Read Online Slocum and the Three Fugitives by Jake Logan - Free Book Online Page A

then apologized and bought him one on the house. This created a stir among the patrons. As friendly as she was, none of them had ever seen her buy a drink for a customer before. Somehow the night passed and the last customer staggered out after midnight, heading to the Santa Fe Drinking Emporium to continue imbibing until dawn.
    â€œI don’t know what we can do, John. I swear if I were a man, I’d strap on a gun and go call Rory Deutsch out.”
    â€œYou’d have to take on the entire family. Just because you cut the head off a snake doesn’t mean it’ll die right away.”
    â€œLet it wiggle around until sundown, but it’s dead eventually. They killed Tom.”
    â€œI never said that.”
    â€œIt makes sense from everything Lucas Deutsch said and how you skirted the matter. Finding the road agents riding horses with X Bar X brands is evidence enough for me.”
    â€œLet’s go to your house. It’s getting chilly out.”
    She smiled, tossed a bar rag into a bucket, and headed for the door.
    â€œBeat you to bed!”
    â€œDon’t start without me,” he said.
    She laughed and went out into the cold mountain air. He pulled the front door shut behind him, and they headed for her house, arm in arm. When she shivered, he realized she had left her shawl in the bar.
    â€œI’ll go fetch it,” he said. “Go ahead and get a fire going.”
    â€œDon’t be long,” she said, “or I
will
start without you.”
    He retraced his steps to the Black Hole, then slowed and finally came to a halt a dozen yards away. Dark figures moved about in the space between the saloon and the bookstore beside it. Slocum slid his pistol from the holster and edged along between the adobe buildings. The rough texture cut at his back, but he never noticed anything but the three masked men in the alley behind the saloon working to light torches.
    Slocum aimed his six-shooter and called, “Drop the match or I’ll drop you!”
    The sudden flare as one torch exploded into flame dazzled him. Then the air was filled with flying lead, tearing all around him.

6
    Slocum fired but missed. This gave the three men the chance to rush him, using the lighted torch to keep him blinded and off balance. When a second torch ignited, he changed his aim slightly and fired at a point just under the ball of flame. A yelp of pain rewarded his shot. Then he found himself bowled over as two of the men hit high and low and slammed him into the adobe wall. He grunted as air rushed from his lungs, but he kept firing.
    Then he shrieked as his clothing burst into flames. One torch had been thrust under his coat. Slocum clamped his arm down hard on the fiery end, jerked about, and started rolling. This would make a more difficult target for the three in the dark as well as extinguishing the fire.
    He was covered in dirt by the time he fetched up against a post. He rebounded, brought up his six-shooter, ready to fire at . . .
    Nothing.
    The trio of arsonists had turned tail and run. He bent over, clutching his side, and moaned. Peeling away his scorched jacket revealed the singed skin. Blisters popped up and the skin was red enough to see even in the night. Slocum winched, sat up, and rested against the fence post that had stopped him. He danced between consciousness and passing out entirely.
    When a wave of strength returned to taunt him, he got to his feet, stumbled out front of the saloon, and doused his coat and vest with water from the horse trough to put out any lingering embers, then used the icy liquid to shock himself completely awake. He sat on the edge of the trough, got to his feet, and managed to open the lock on the door. Inside, he grabbed a bottle of whiskey and poured a generous amount over the blistered skin.
    He almost passed out, but when the initial pain died, he felt only coldness. He had driven away both pain and the chance of infection. Slocum took a quick