Slocum's Breakout (20 page)

“Leave him be. The execution is scheduled for fifteen minutes,” Slocum said.

“Then do it now, John. Take no chances!”

“Too soon and Atencio won't be brought out from the cell block.”

“Wait too long and he will die!”

Slocum understood her anxiety, but timing was vital.

“You mount up and hightail it away,” he told her. “There's no reason for you to be here now. Murrieta ought to be in position.” Slocum checked his pocket watch again. Keyed up, he felt the same thrill he always had before going into battle during the war. His troops, such as they were, had been deployed . . .

“I hear chants from inside,” Maria said.

“I'll be damned if the warden hasn't brought out the prisoners to watch the execution. That's the only reason for so much noise.”

Slocum led Valenzuela's horse out of the thicket and fastened the reins around the saddle horn.

To Maria, he said, “I told you to get out of here. The time's right to get this started.”

She gave him a quick kiss, saying, “For luck!” Then she mounted and rode away from San Quentin. Slocum counted to ten, then slapped Valenzuela's horse on the rump, sending it rocketing toward the two guards posted outside the gate.

Valenzuela did his part, wobbling in the saddle with his hands bound behind his back. Instinct kept him in the saddle when his best chance would have been to fall to the ground, then run like hell. If he had done that, Slocum would have been forced to shoot the man. But Valenzuela found himself at the gate, guards lifting their rifles to fire when Sergeant Wilkinson bellowed for them not to shoot.

“Capture him. That's one of the escapees!”

Slocum grinned. So far everything worked well with Wilkinson recognizing Valenzuela. His smile faded when Wilkinson dragged José from the saddle, plucking the gag from his mouth.

Valenzuela screamed loud enough to be heard all the way back in San Francisco, “Slocum! He's out there. In the woods!”

By now, Sheriff Bernard had come out to see what the fuss was about. He and Wilkinson exchanged quick words, probably arguing over what Valenzuela meant. They knew him as Jarvis, but Valenzuela's insistence was enough to goad the lawmen into action.

Slocum used the time they spent discussing what was happening to mount. With his horse straining under him, Slocum bolted across the open area, where he found himself an immediate target. Both armed guards opened fire on him, Valenzuela screeching the entire time for Slocum's death as they fired.

Slocum bent low and raced after Murrieta as Wilkinson mustered his guards. Bernard found his horse first and rode to cut Slocum off, but there was little chance that would happen. More guards rushed from inside the prison. Slocum heard the warden's strident voice ordering the guards back inside to control the prisoners.

He had been right about the noise blossoming from inside the prison. The warden had assembled the prisoners to watch. There might be hundreds of them in the yard surrounding the gallows.

Slocum rode harder, striving to stay ahead of the sheriff. His horse began to tire just as he saw Murrieta waving to him. Murrieta had unloaded the packhorse and had piled the two cases of dynamite against the stone wall.

“I have it ready,” Murrieta called.

Slocum glanced up. His memory was good. This stretch wasn't easily seen from either of the guard towers at either end of the wall. He hit the ground running, knowing Bernard wasn't far behind.

“You did good,” he said, seeing that Murrieta had burrowed down some into the dirt to half bury the crates of dynamite. The explosion had to go inward if they were to breach the wall. Slocum whipped out his tin of lucifers, scratched one against his belt buckle, and applied the flaring tip to the fuse.

“Only six inches,” Murrieta said, “as you told me.”

Black miners' fuse burned at one foot per minute. Thirty seconds ought to be enough to get them safely away.

Only Sheriff Bernard had chosen this instant to gallop up, six-gun out.

“Grab some sky, you two. Now or I'll shoot!”

Slocum saw the fuse sputtering toward the blasting cap and knew they had another fifteen seconds.

“Run,” he said, shoving Murrieta along the wall. “Stay with the horses!”

He dodged away from the wall to draw Bernard's fire. The sheriff didn't open up but rode closer. Slocum played for time—and won.

The dynamite erupted with a throaty roar that shook the ground and made the world stand still for an instant. Then rock, dirt, and debris exploded outward, showering Slocum where he lay facedown, arms over his head. Shaken, he rolled over and saw that the blast had knocked Bernard from his horse. Where the horse had gone, he couldn't tell. Slocum was partially deaf, and his eyes watered from the still-billowing dust cloud.

He got to his feet and ran to the six-foot hole they'd blown in the wall.

He was almost crushed by the prisoners fighting to escape through the hole. Slocum grabbed the men and heaved them from his path, forcing himself into the prison. He felt like a fish swimming up a fast-running stream.

Some prisoners fought with guards, but most tried to get free through the hole that had miraculously opened for them.

Slocum made his way toward the gallows but saw Warden Harriman on the platform, hand on the lever that would spring the trap under his black-hooded prisoner. Atencio was only seconds away from being hanged.

Jostled about as he was, Slocum knew he would have a hard time getting a good shot at the warden. Worse, if he missed and only winged the man, he might jerk away and throw the lever, guaranteeing Atencio's death.

The prisoners all around him were attacking and being attacked by the guards. He pushed forward, desperately hoping that he could reach the gallows before Harriman carried out the death sentence.

Then Slocum heard a high-pitched voice that cut through the din like a knife.

“Stop! Do not kill him!”

Maria rode through the crowd straight for the gallows. It took Slocum a few seconds to realize someone had opened the main gate, giving her the chance to ride in. But she was oblivious to the fight raging all around her and did not realize how enticing it was to an escaping prisoner to ride out on a horse—her horse.

Slocum was torn between helping Maria and saving Atencio from the warden's easy movement of the lever controlling the trapdoor. He made his decision and fought his way toward the woman.

He clubbed one prisoner trying to pull her from the saddle and kicked another out of her way. The prisoners realized they couldn't remain inside the walls long or they would be trapped again when Sergeant Wilkinson got his men under control. Right now, the guards fought as individuals and not as a well-disciplined unit. When that changed, they would begin rounding up the prisoners in a methodical fashion, starting with those still inside the walls. Tracking those who had successfully breached the walls would take more time.

Wilkinson would want to hang on to what prisoners he could. The guard sergeant might be many things, but Slocum doubted he was incompetent. San Quentin had been run too efficiently for too long to believe Wilkinson wasn't capable of clever planning or even outright brutality when it was called for.

“Go to him,” Maria cried when she saw Slocum trying to clear the way for her. “You can stop the warden. I cannot!”

“Yes, you can,” Slocum said. “You caught the warden by surprise. Play on that. Beg him to release Atencio. I'll be right behind you.”

Slocum followed the woman through the thinning fight. Guards were beginning to gain the upper hand as prisoners realized it was better for them to run than fight.

“Please, I beg you. He is innocent!” Maria sat astride her horse and looked up the few feet to the warden, who simply stared at her as if he had never seen a woman before in his life.

“How'd you get in here?” Harriman finally asked.

The hesitation on his part and her slowness to answer him gave Slocum time to get around to the steps leading to the execution platform. While Maria distracted the warden, Slocum took the steps two at a time to reach the top of the gallows. Only then did the warden realize what was happening.

He tried to throw the lever, but Slocum was already swinging. His meaty fist struck the warden on the cheek and sent him reeling. Slocum quickly followed up with a haymaker that knocked Harriman off the platform. He fell heavily to the ground fifteen feet below. He landed flat on his back. The loud whoosh of breath gusting from his lungs carried over the din of battle throughout the prison yard.

Slocum wasted no time getting the hood off Atencio's head and then lifting the noose from his neck.

“Gracias . . .”
the man started. Slocum didn't let him get any farther. He slammed his palm against the lever.

Both of them hurtled downward and landed heavily under the gallows floor. Slocum caught the man because his ankles were bound together.

“Let me get you free.”

“Why did you—”

“Wilkinson's alerted the guards in the towers. They're going to open fire at any instant.”

The words had barely escaped his lips when the sharp report from a half-dozen rifles filled the prison yard.

Slocum slit the ropes and helped Atencio take a step or two until he got circulation back into his legs.

“What do we do?”

Slocum hadn't thought this far ahead. In none of his schemes had he considered a riot and mass escape.

“Get behind Maria and ride the hell out of here,” Slocum said.

“Maria? She is here?” Atencio's eyes went wide and a broad, toothy grin split his face. “I knew she would come for me!”

Slocum grabbed him by the arm and pulled him from under the gallows. As they rounded the base, the warden struggled to his feet, gasping out commands that brought nearby guards running to him.

“Damn,” Slocum muttered under his breath. He kept moving and hunted for Maria, but the woman had disappeared.

“Where is she? Where?”

“She must have hightailed it out of the prison. She pulled your fat from the fire by distracting the warden.” Slocum saw that Sergeant Wilkinson was closing the main gate, cutting off escape that way. He hoped Maria had ridden away because being trapped on this side of the wall would be a terrible fate for her.

“We've got to get out the hole I blasted. Murrieta is on the other side.”

“Procipio? He came to save me also?” This pleased Atencio even more.

Slocum wanted to give him time to thank his friends, but they had to first get out of the prison yard. Barely had he gone a dozen paces when he realized the hole he had blown in the wall was closed off by four armed guards. He started to draw and shoot his way out, then realized that would draw attention to him. The tower guards had stopped firing but were still where they could ventilate him if necessary.

“We can't go that way,” he said. Grabbing Atencio and shoving him in the direction of the cell block was the only thing he could do. To remain out in the open meant their capture.

Slocum vowed not to let them take him alive. He had spent almost a week in solitary and wasn't going to do that again. Sergeant Wilkinson still thought he was Jasper Jarvis and an escapee. No amount of argument would change that. Worse, the only lawyer he knew of had stolen money intended to bribe a judge to free Atencio. He was entirely on his own.

“They will not let us stay inside,” Atencio said with such assurance that Slocum almost believed him. Almost.

Then he saw how Wilkinson roamed the ranks of the guards and swept through the yard, collecting any convict who had been unlucky enough to remain inside. The truncheons swung and heads were split open. The bloody tide moved inexorably.

“Into the cell block,” Slocum said. “It's our only way to get out.”

“How? There is nothing but . . . cells.”

Slocum wasn't sure, but since this was his only route left, he had to take it. He and Atencio slipped through the open door and into the holding area. Slocum remembered it only too well. From here he had been herded to the room where he was scrubbed down and given the prison uniform.

“Uniforms,” Slocum said.

“
Sí
, yes, I have one on.” Atencio grabbed the heavy canvas of the striped shirt and held it out. “They would bury me in this, the pigs.”

“Guards' uniforms. Where can we find some?” He had gotten into the prison before by pretending to be a guard. It was a long shot but all he had if they were to get out.

“I do not know. There, perhaps. The guards have bunks there.”

Slocum didn't wait to see if Atencio followed him. He ran for the door and kicked it open, ready to gun down any guard who might be inside. The room was empty. Bunks lined two walls and at the far end were hooks, some with guard uniforms dangling from them. Hardly breaking stride after kicking the door, Slocum reached the clothing and quickly sized up the blue wool coats and trousers with the dull brass buttons.

“Here,” he said, tossing a set over his shoulder to Atencio. “Put it on over your prison uniform. No time to strip.” As he spoke, he found a uniform for himself that was several sizes too big. This worked to his advantage. He tightened a belt around his middle so that the pant legs dropped far enough down to cover the tops of his boots. The coat went on and hid his cross-draw holster with the ebony-handled six-shooter in it. He sent his hat sailing under a bunk and tried on three caps before he found one that didn't perch on the top of his head like a bird hatching an egg.

“You look silly,” Atencio said.