Slocum And The Socorro Saloon Sirens - Plot & Excerpts
The big Swede was dead, cut down by a stranger’s bullets. Thorson’s lifeless face was sallow, drained of blood, and there was a black hole in his forehead that was turning purple at the edges. Wu Chen stood next to Hiram Littlepage. He held a white handkerchief to his nose. Thorson’s sphincter muscle had relaxed and he had voided himself when he died so suddenly. Scroggs cursed under his breath. The two bartenders leaned over the bar top to stare at Thorson’s body. Ruben Loomis had returned to the bar once he saw Slocum saunter away, and now the hired gunman stood a few feet away, a blank expression on his face. Scroggs looked over at him. “Did you get a good look at that man who shot the Swede?” Scroggs asked. Loomis nodded. “I want you to get that bastard,” Scroggs said. “Track him down. Shoot him. Back or front, it don’t make no difference.” “Yes, sir,” Loomis said, and turned to leave the saloon. Miranda and her daughter, Maria Luisa, were like two hawks. They watched and listened.
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