Free Slocum's Breakout by Jake Logan Page B

belt as he ran.
    Behind him in the jailhouse came several gunshots. Wilkinson and Bernard were shooting at each other. Slocum hoped both lawmen were good shots.
    He plunged into the sultry night, wanting as much distance between himself and the Miramar jail as possible.

7
    Slocum settled down to catch his breath. He needed a horse if he wanted to get the hell out of the clutches of two different lawmen. At least he considered the San Quentin guard as a lawman. Wilkinson obviously had the authority to take an escaped prisoner back to the prison without going through the court.
    Thoughts of San Quentin made Slocum simmer and almost come to a boil. How Conchita had duped him! All she wanted was her brother’s release so he and their father could go on a bank-robbing spree. He had thought he might actually love her, but her words had been lies even as her body spoke to his. Slocum tried not to get involved like that. Thinking always worked better for him in the long run than responding emotionally, but Conchita had been different. He thought she had been different.
    He sat up a little straighter when he heard the steady clop-clop of a horse’s hooves against the dry ground. At this time of night it wasn’t likely to be a traveler. He dived off the main road, and this part of the countryside showed no sign of cultivation or mining. Nobody homesteaded here so the only rider was likely to be Wilkinson or Sheriff Bernard.
    He slid his six-shooter from his holster, glad that he had grabbed it from the sheriff’s drawer. Fighting either of the lawmen with his bare hands wouldn’t have kept him from jail.
    Poking his head up, Slocum chanced a look toward the road and saw the dark silhouette of a big man astride a horse. From the movement in the darkness, he knew the rider was tracking him. It was damned near impossible without a light, but the sudden flare of a lucifer so the rider could see the ground and Slocum’s track also revealed Wilkinson’s ugly face.
    Slocum leveled his six-gun and sighted in. He considered simply shooting the prison sergeant but didn’t squeeze down on the trigger, fearing Wilkinson might have brought the sheriff along with him. The gunfire as he escaped the Miramar jailhouse made it unlikely the two had thrown in together, but Slocum couldn’t tell. He didn’t want a murder rap added to all the rest of the charges against him.
    A rueful smile curled his lips. If he killed Wilkinson, that would be the only crime for which he’d be truly responsible. The rest were trumped up or lies concocted to get him into San Quentin. He wasn’t Jasper Jarvis, and he sure as hell hadn’t robbed a bank. Not in these parts, and not recently.
    For a moment, this got him thinking in different directions. If the Valenzuelas had the bank money, robbing them would be easier than stealing from the bank itself. He deserved something for all they had done to him. Then he realized Conchita’s lies had stung him worst of all. He didn’t like being played for a fool.
    Wilkinson’s horse neighed and drew Slocum’s attention back to the prison guard. The bulky man bent low, still in the saddle, and lit a second match. Whatever he saw pleased him because he snuffed out the match quickly and sat straight in the saddle. Again Slocum considered pulling the trigger, but in the dark the shot was difficult. The range worried him, too. If he had a rifle, he might have attempted shooting the horse out from under Wilkinson.
    The guard rode straight for where Slocum hid.
    From the way Wilkinson advanced, he didn’t know how close he was to his quarry. This settled the matter for Slocum. He twisted about, crouched down behind the log where he had taken his respite, then waited. The horse passed close to him, snorting and trying to turn at the smell of the man Wilkinson hunted.
    Sergeant Wilkinson jerked hard on the reins to keep the horse moving straight ahead. “Don’t go