Slocum and the Hellfire Harem (9781101613382) Read Online Free PDF Page A

seemed the logical explanation. And it would have been like Mueller to leave these men for whoever was tailing him to deal with, for Slocum had been assuming that Mueller felt he was being followed.
    But that still didn’t explain who’d done this. If it hadn’t been Mueller, then who?
    â€œHang on there, men. I’ll fetch water, then get you inside.” Somehow, he thought. But just how he would accomplish the task, he had no idea. Slocum looked beyond the fence toward a decent-size ranch house, barn, and fenced crops that, despite the searing sun of this remote stretch of Nevada, appeared to be growing well. Must have a decent source of water, he thought.
    In short order, he had fetched a bucket of cool water from a well to the side of the house, halfway to the barn. The place looked decently built, tight, and tidily kept. The men all had similar characteristics in build—big, burly, though the youngest was thinner, more like a boy not yet filled out. But they were all obviously related, bearded up though the older four they were. The beards, he guessed, probably helped protect their faces from further burns.
    Their bodies were crisscrossed with welts from the ropes and puckered where the ropes had bit into them and forced their flesh to bubble up.
    Once he got water drizzled onto their greedy lips—careful not to let them have too much too soon, lest they throw it all up again—Slocum turned his thoughts again to getting the men to the house. A travois, that’s what he’d need, then he wouldn’t have to heft these beefy lads even if he could find a wagon.
    He ran back to the barn, kicked two rails free from the corral fence, and dragged them back to the front fence. The men were beginning to stir, trying to raise themselves up on their elbows, their heads wobbling, still dazed.
    Slocum used the ropes he’d cut from them, and lashed together a half-assed rig using his own blanket roll. He began with the old man and worked his way through the five, from what he guessed was youngest to oldest. Before a half hour was up, he had the men transported to the house, saving the youngest for last. The youth surprised him by struggling to his feet with the assistance of the fence, and leaning on Slocum, he managed to walk the distance of several hundred feet to the ranch house. As soon as they reached the shade of the low front porch, the boy sighed.
    Slocum spent the next hour fetching water, and with the help of mumbled directions, he found a tub of salve that from its stink appeared to be made of bear grease mixed with something that came out of the south end of a bear. But it seemed to do the trick. He was thankful that by then the men had recovered enough that they were able to smear it on themselves and help each other. Slocum wasn’t opposed to helping his fellow man, but greasing up a bulky army of sunburned men had pushed the limits of his charitable efforts for the day.
    â€œSo, you fellas related?” said Slocum, knowing the answer, but hoping to get one of them to crack a smile. It didn’t work. Despite the fact that he’d saved their lives, they seemed angry, almost hostile in their looks toward him, as if he had somehow been responsible for their plight. He decided not to let them know he’d heard of them in town. Probably a sore subject, and from the looks of their raw, bubbled hides, they had enough to be crabby about.
    â€œThey’re my boys,” whispered the old man. “I am Rufus Tinker, the head of the family, and they are my sons.”
    Where are the women? Slocum wanted to ask, but again, held his tongue. It didn’t seem the time for many questions.
    As the minutes wore on, the rest of the men were able to talk, in croaking voices at first, then in less strained tones. As minutes turned to an hour, then two, they were also able to shuffle around the house, and soon had pulled on loose-fitting shirts and sagged long underwear. It