Free Slocum 420 by Jake Logan Page B

back into the present.
    â€œThere you go,” Slocum said while slapping the driver’s back. “Looks like you’re with me now.”
    â€œYeah,” the driver said as he wiped some of the water from his face. Rather than flick the water from his hands, he pushed it up over his eyes and shoved his hat back to clean off his dusty forehead. “That’s a whole lot better. Much obliged.”
    Slocum dipped the dented cup into the water barrel once more and offered it to him. “You want this water inside you or outside?”
    Taking the dipper from him, the driver said, “Inside will do nicely.” With that, he drank every drop of the water in one series of prolonged gulps. He handed the dipper back, waited for it to be refilled, and then drained it one more time.
    â€œAll right,” Slocum said. “Now that you’re calmed down a bit, why don’t you tell me the rest of what happened out there?”
    â€œNot a whole lot else to tell. It was terrible . . . just terrible.”
    â€œDid you see anything alongside the road? Anything at all that could have been the thing that ripped those men apart?”
    The driver thought about it for a few seconds before shaking his head. “Not that I can recall. Like I said, I heard that wailing and then the screams.”
    â€œWhat sort of wailing? Could it have been a man?”
    Although the driver’s first reaction was a shake of his head, he had to admit, “I suppose . . . there’s a chance it could have been a man. I’ve heard animals that sound like men and men that sound like animals. Damn it all to hell, I’m not one bit of help.”
    â€œThose men you brought all the way back to where they can be seen by a doctor would tell you different,” Slocum assured him. “Just as soon as they get the care they need. In the meantime, try to think of anything you can, anything at all, that might be a help. I know you’re plum rattled right now, but this is when the memories will be freshest.”
    The driver nodded. “I know. I know. Just give me a second.”
    Womack approached them with his hands on his hips and sweat pouring down his face. “I swear I haven’t moved around so much since I was one of the boys dragging logs from one spot to another.”
    â€œHow are those men doing?” Slocum asked.
    â€œAs good as can be expected under the circumstances. They’re still breathing, which is saying a hell of a lot.”
    â€œHow long will it take for the doctor to get here?”
    â€œShouldn’t be long at all,” Womack said. “He’s been called on several occasions when men get too close to the saw or get crushed beneath a piece of timber. Had one fella trip over his own two feet and split his head open on another man’s boot. Any of them times, Doc Reece was here quicker than two shakes of a lamb’s tail.”
    â€œGood to know,” Slocum said. “Although it doesn’t say much for you being able to keep your men in good health.”
    â€œAin’t none of them was my fault.” Looking to the driver, Womack asked, “How’s this one holding up?”
    â€œThe bushes!” the driver blurted out.
    Womack cocked his head like a dog that had just heard a distant whistle. “Pardon me?”
    The driver snapped his fingers and looked at Slocum as if he wasn’t even aware anyone else was standing there. “I remember something now! There was something in the bushes when I was helping to drag those men into the cart. It was something big.”
    â€œHow big?” Slocum asked.
    â€œBigger than a man. Maybe not as big as a bear.”
    Womack scowled. “So you don’t think it was a man?”
    â€œNo, sir, I don’t.”
    Nodding, Womack gave the driver a reassuring pat on the back. “Why don’t you go into the bunkhouse and rest for a spell? Me and the rest of the