Read Online Slocum #396 : Slocum and the Scavenger Trail (9781101554371) by Jake Logan - Free Book Online Page B

that appellation.
    This was the kind of place where kidnappers brought men to hold for ransom. But how was he going to find Baransky and the men who had grabbed him out on the trail?
    “You got more ’n that mangy mule yer ridin’?” The call came from a gent rocked back in a chair, precariously leaning against the saloon wall. “You got more, I kin make you a good deal.”
    Slocum tugged on the reins and walked his mule to where he could study the man.
    “Might have a few mules and some gear. Who else is buying?”
    “Why, mister, you don’t need nobody else. Ole Buddy Drew—that’s me—gives top dollar.”
    That told Slocum more of what he needed to know. The town thrived on buying stolen animals and supplies. That it competed and obviously thrived along with Almost There told of the huge numbers of men and supplies struggling to the distant goldfields. He hesitated, a faint sound alerting him.
    “What’s wrong, mister? You got a bug in yer ear?”
    “Hear something.”
    “All you need to hear’s my offer cuz it’ll be the best you can git in this godforsaken town. You got them other mules to show me? I don’t buy no pig in a poke.”
    “Buy me a drink and let’s dicker,” Slocum said. He dismounted, wondering how safe the mule would be if he left it in the street. Barely had his feet touched the muddy ground when a grizzled man in a threadbare old Confederate uniform limped up. His left leg was nigh on useless from the way he dragged himself along.
    “Watch it fer a dime,” he said.
    “Git yer lazy ass outta here, Wallace. You don’t want to annoy this fellow. He’s got stuff to sell.”
    “Here,” Slocum said. “Don’t let anybody make off with the mule or saddle.” He handed the gimpy man a greenback. The sneer told him scrip wasn’t held in high esteem in these parts.
    “This’ll buy you a half hour, no more.”
    Slocum nodded. His business wouldn’t take him that long. He’d either find out what Buddy Drew knew or be on his way quick enough.
    “You come right on in, mister. What do I call you?” Drew held the saloon door open for Slocum.
    “Thirsty.”
    Drew laughed, but there was no humor in it. He called out to the barkeep, “Set ’em up, Mr. Preston. Me and my friend here got business to discuss.”
    The bartender wiped off a pair of shot glasses using a rag, which disappeared back behind the bar. Slocum doubted it was much cleaner than the glasses that were quickly filled to the brim with amber fluid.
    “Bottoms up,” Drew said, knocking back his shot.
    Slocum was slower to follow. A drop of chloral hydrate would leave him unconscious on the floor and at the mercy of the men scattered around the saloon watching him like a hungry coyote watches a plump rabbit. He snorted as the fiery liquor slid down his gullet.
    “Potent stuff, ain’t it?”
    Slocum waited a moment for any hint of dizziness. Drew would be the first to die if he had been drugged. But the burning in his belly didn’t warn him of anything wrong, other than his lack of food recently.
    “I’ll swap the mules I got,” Slocum said.
    “Swap? I don’t understand. I run a strictly cash business. Ask any of the boys.” Drew made a sweeping gesture that took in everyone.
    “I want information. I got a score to settle with an owlhoot and heard he was here.”
    “What kind of score?” Drew looked at him as he stepped back a half pace.
    “That’s between me and Baransky.”
    “That his name? Baransky?”
    “Clem Baransky.”
    “Don’t know him. Any of you know this Baransky fellow?”
    Drew never took his eyes off Slocum but still answered, “Sorry, they don’t know him. You got to look elsewhere, though I’m still willin’ to buy yer stock.”
    “Two mules. What price?”
    “Got to see ’em first. You came into town alone.”
    “I’ll look around a bit more,” Slocum said.
    “You’re not walkin’ ’way from this deal.”
    “What deal?”
    “You drank my whiskey. That sealed the deal. You