Longarm and the Boardinghouse Widow

Within another half hour, Tom Hunter’s place came into view from a long distance off. It was set upon a little crown of land with its good stone house and its neat outbuildings and corrals. As they neared, Longarm could see that there were some cattle, more than just the ten that Hunter claimed to have, being close herded near the house. It was his guess that it meant that the Goodmans had arrived. That was a relief.

Barrett suddenly turned in his saddle and said, “That’s Tom Hunter’s place up there. We’re not going anywhere near there, are we?”

Longarm said, “Oh, Tom Hunter. You know him, do you?”

“What the hell business is it of yours whether I know him? Of course I know him. I know just about everyone around here.”

“And have stolen cattle off of damned near everybody around here, I understand. I guess the only reason you haven’t burned out Tom Hunter is that his house is made out of rock and he’s a pretty good hand with a rifle. I hear he’s shorted you a few hired hands. Is that right?”

“Go to hell.”

“Not as fast as you, neighbor. Now, get that horse to moving.”

They rode steadily forward until they started up the rise to Hunter’s house. Fifty yards away, Longarm saw Tom Hunter step through the front door, a rifle in his hands. They rode up and the rancher came forward, nodding his head.

Hunter said, “Howdy Marshal.” He glanced over at Barrett. “I see you brought our visitor.”

Longarm looked at Barrett and saw that the man looked alarmed. Barrett said, “What the hell does he mean, his visitor? You’re not keeping me here. I am not staying in this man’s house. Marshal, you cannot do this.”

Longarm swung his leg over his saddle and dismounted. He said, “Get down, Barrett. You can rest your legs for a while, and you can also rest that mouth of yours.”

“I’m not getting off this horse.”

Longarm walked around the flank of his own horse and approached Barrett with his rifle reversed and the butt end facing the chunky man. He said, “Get down or get knocked off that horse. Take your choice. I’ll give you about one second to decide.”

Barrett began to cuss, but he also swung his leg over and dismounted with a grunt. He was heftier than Longarm had thought at first. It was clear that he hadn’t done much hard work in some time. Tom Hunter said, “I’ve got a room all ready for him.”

“Did Mr. Goodman and his boy get here?” Longarm said.

“Yeah, they’re getting their stock settled.”

Barrett swung around to face both of them. He said, “What the hell is going on? What are you playing at? If you are trying something that you will be sorry for, I promise you I will make you sorry for it. You are not going to detain me here.”

Longarm said, “Walk on into the house, Mr. Barrett, or else we’ll carry you in. It makes no difference to me, one way or the other.”

With Tom Hunter and Hawkins following, Longarm shoved Archie Barrett into the front room of the cabin. It was dim and cool. Longarm said over his shoulder to Hunter, “Which way?”

“Straight ahead. There’s a small room that my wife used to use for sewing and whatnot. It’s bare now. She took what furniture and other little items she could with her. Got a good stout door on it and the windows are mighty small. I think it would take a hell of a big window to get his fat butt out.”

Longarm shoved Barrett ahead of him and to the right and through a door that opened into a room that was about ten feet by ten feet. There was a window in each of the two outside walls, but they were up high and as Tom had said, they were small. There was a chair and a table in the room and a wash basin and a pitcher of water. There was nothing else.

Longarm looked around and said, “Fine. This ought to do it.” He backed out and pulled the heavy wooden door shut behind him and then turned the key in the lock. On the other side, he heard a sudden yell and a stream of curses.

He turned around and smiled at Tom Hunter and at Hawkins. He said, “Now, I think we’ll let him cool out for a while and let him meditate on his sins.”

Tom Hunter said, “How long do you reckon?”

“Oh, all night for certain, and that with no supper.”

“Do you reckon we ought to put a bucket in there for him?”

“There’s a pitcher, ain’t there? And a wash bowl?”

“Yeah, but that’s for him to drink and wash his face.”

Longarm shrugged. “Hell, he can take his choice.”

The men sat talking for a few minutes. Tom Hunter started frying up some bacon and beans. In a little while, the two Goodmans came in. If Longarm hadn’t been told different, he would have thought they were brothers rather than father and son. They were both on the smallish side. Longarm guessed they each weighed somewhere between one hundred and forty and one hundred and fifty pounds. They were square built with square shoulders and square hands and thick necks and they both looked very solid and very capable. The father, Robert, was not quite as blond as his son, but his eyes were equally blue. The son, Rufus, had a little thinner face, but Longarm reckoned it would square up to match his father’s when a few years had passed.

While the bacon was frying, they sat around the big table and discussed the matter at hand. As best as he could, Longarm explained his plan. Tom Hunter was the most enthusiastic. The Goodmans seemed to have a number of doubts. Robert Goodman said, “I don’t see how you’re going to be able to force him to keep his word. That’s what I don’t see.”

Longarm said, “You leave that part to me. That’s law work. And by the way, speaking of law work, Mr. Hawkins here is already sworn in as an auxiliary deputy marshal. Y’all three are now sworn in as auxiliary deputy marshals.”

Rufus, the son, said, “Ain’t we supposed to hold up our hands or something?”

Longarm gave him a dry look. He said, “Son, it ain’t the ceremony that counts. But do understand this: you are now duly constituted law officers, and you’ve got to act within the law, whatever you do. I’m responsible for you, so I’m going to make damned sure that you don’t misuse it. But, being within the law, whatever you do will be legal.”

Rufus said, jerking his head toward the room where Archie Barrett was still yelling at the top of his voice, “Is what you’re doing with that fellow in there inside the law?”

Longarm said, “Son, whatever I do is within the law. That don’t apply to all of y’all, but it applies to me.”

Mr. Hawkins said, “You’re pretty easy with that law. You kind of make it up as you go along?”

“Why, Mr. Hawkins, how can you make such a statement?”

Hawkins shook his head. “Because you have shanghaied me. I’m not even supposed to be here, and now you’re laying out plans that are going to keep me here four or five more days. What am I supposed to tell my company? That I’ve quit them and gone into law work?”

Longarm said, “I’ll give you a note for your boss. It’ll make it all right.”

But it was Robert Goodman who said what Longarm thought needed to be said: “Well, Marshal, I don’t have any idea if this plan of yours will work, either, but I do know there ain’t many ways that these folks can be got at, and your way sounds as good as any I can think of if you give me ten years to think of it. What’s important to me and to Rufus and to Tom is that somebody from the outside is trying to help us. The way it was before is that we’ve been sitting down here being picked off one by one. They’ve took the weak ones and now they are down to just us. We haven’t succumbed so easy, but it would be just a matter of time before they wiped us out. The only reason they haven’t just massacred the bunch of us is that I figure that it would have caused so much of a ruckus that maybe even somebody in the state capital would have cared. I’m with you, me and Rufus, all the way, and I appreciate what you’re doing.”

Longarm said, “Thank you, Mr. Goodman. We’ll just roll the dice and see what happens.”

Tom Hunter said, “One thing’s for certain: it can’t be no worse than what it was. I was about a week from up and leaving.”

Robert Goodman added, “I doubt if we would have lasted the week. We’re down to eight cows. We couldn’t have gone on much longer.”

Tom Hunter got up to turn the bacon over and to stir the beans. Hawkins said, cocking an ear toward the room they had Archie Barrett in, “He is kicking up a ruckus, ain’t he?”

Rufus said, “Marshal Long, you just plan to starve him down? Just hold him down until he comes to his senses?”

Longarm said, “That’s the only way I can do it, son. I don’t know of any other way.”

The boy said with a grim look, “How about you just turn me loose in there and lock the door behind me? I reckon I can get him to agree to just about anything, and it’ll take a hell of a lot less time.”

Longarm laughed. He said, “Yeah, we could take some skin off him, but not right off the bat. Let’s do it this way for a while and see how it looks. I have a feeling he won’t be too hard a nut to crack. He looks a might on the soft side to me.”

Hawkins nodded his head on his scrawny neck. “Archie Barrett might have been a pretty hard man at one time in his life, but that’s long since past. He couldn’t drink black coffee now if there was a prize for it. He’s got to have cream for his coffee and butter for his bread. Hell, I bet he can’t even eat corn bread. He eats nothing but light bread now. No, he’s soft, Marshal. He’s soft, but how willing he is to give in to the kind of demands you’re going to put on him, I don’t know.”

“We’ll see,” Longarm said.

From the small kitchen, Tom Hunter said, “You boys better get in here and get you a plate. What there is, is ready. You may not want it, but it’s all we’ve got.”

While they ate, Hawkins said to Longarm, “You know, Marshal, I don’t know if it’s occurred to you or not, but you ain’t even told Archie Barrett what you want of him. You reckon he might be willing by now?”

Longarm had to wait a moment while he swallowed a mouthful of very dry corn bread. He shot Tom Hunter a look as if to accuse him of being a dangerous man in the kitchen. He said to Hawkins, “No, I don’t see any point of burdening the man’s mind any more than need be. Right now, he’s in that room and he’s imagining worse things than I could ever tell him. Best thing, I reckon, that you can do with him is to let him sit and stew for a while. If you ever get in a gunfight with a fellow, Mr. Hawkins, make some excuse to put it off for an hour. You’d be surprised at how shaky that other fellow’s hand will get in an hour.”

Hawkins gave him a sardonic look. “What about your own hand?”

“Mine shakes all the time,” Longarm said. “It don’t make a difference to me.”

Young Rufus Goodman said, “Marshal, you know they’re going to come looking for him, don’t you?”

Longarm nodded. “I would reckon, but I don’t think this is the first place they’ll come. It’ll take them some time to even get an idea that he’s missing. I’ve also got an idea that he’s got two brothers that might not much care. He’s been the big cheese over them for quite some time, as I understand it. They might not want him found.”

“What do we do if they come looking here?” said the older Goodman.

Longarm glanced at the man. “I was given to understand that you and your boy are pretty fair hands with a rifle. This cabin is made out of rock and we’ve got good, clear land all around us and we’ll be shooting down. I’d say the odds are all on our side. If we can’t stand off fifty men here, the five of us, something’s wrong.”

“What about ammo?”

Longarm said, “I’m going into town in the morning to get some.” He glanced over at Tom Hunter. “I’m also going to get a couple big sacks of grub that nobody can ruin.”

Tom Hunter said, “Listen, Marshal, if you’d like to take over the cooking, you’re more than welcome. I’ve lost ten pounds since I’ve been cooking for myself. I’ve never been so tired of anything in my life as I am of bacon and beans, but those are the only things I know how to cook, short of slaughtering a cow and cutting off one steak.”

Rufus Goodman said, “Marshal, how long do you think this is going to take before he breaks?”

Longarm looked at him. He said, “Son, if I knew that, I’d be damned near as smart as a twenty-year-old.”

Chapter 8

Longarm had Barrett brought out of his room the next morning about eleven o’clock. He had created a ruckus far into the previous night and then had fallen silent, only to begin again, pounding on the walls and yelling some time around daybreak. Finally, after a couple of hours, he had grown quiet again. Longarm had figured he was nearing the point of exhaustion.

He sent Tom Hunter and Robert Goodman to bring Barrett out. Longarm sat at the big dining table near the kitchen, faced in such a way that he would be the first sight that Barrett would see. He had sent Hawkins and the younger Goodman outside so Barrett would not know the strength of their numbers.

Barrett came out looking haggard and disheveled, but he was still angry. The minute he saw Longarm, he began to swell up and shout, “Damn it, you cur! What do you mean locking me in a room like that? You son of a bitch, I’ll have you killed, marshal or not.”

Longarm let him rattle on, shrieking and shouting until he finally quieted down. Then he nodded for Goodman and Hunter to bring the rancher over to the table where he had laid out a pen, a pot of ink, and a piece of paper. He said, “Set him in that chair.”

There was a heavy smell of bacon in the cabin along with the smell of flapjacks. Longarm had sent young Rufus Goodman into town early that morning to buy a supply of .44 shells and some flour and some canned goods as well as a smoked ham. He could see Barrett sniffing the air. He knew a man that was used to eating as regularly as Barrett would be dying by now.

Barrett said, “You sons of bitches plan on starving me to death? I want something to eat and I want it right now.”

Longarm said calmly, “Mr. Barrett, you can have something to eat and you can have much better treatment. All you have to do is write a letter for me.”

Barrett looked at Longarm, his lip curling. He said, “You go to hell, you son of a bitch. I ain’t writing nothing for you. What kind of a letter do you want me to write, anyway?”

Longarm said, “I want you to write a letter to Jake Myers asking him to meet you.”

Barrett furrowed his brow. He said, “Why would I want to do a damn-fool thing like that? I don’t want to see Jake Myers.”

“No, but I do.”

“Then, hell, write him yourself or go see him. I doubt you’d get out of there alive.”

Longarm smiled. “Now, you’re getting the general idea. No, I think I need you to write the letter. Now, here’s the pen. Take it up, and I’ll tell you what to write. When you’re finished, you can have something to eat.”

“You go to hell. And besides that, I need to go outside.”

“Write the letter first, Mr. Barrett.”

“I ain’t writing you no damned letter, you son of a bitch. Are you holding me hostage? Is that what this is all about? Are you planning on holding my brothers up for money? Well, I can tell you right now, they won’t pay you. They won’t pay one red cent, so you’re wasting your time. When I get out of here, I’m going to have every one of you bastards killed. That includes you, Tom Hunter, and you, too, Robert Goodman.”

Longarm sighed. He said, “All right. Take him back to his room.”

Barrett suddenly gripped the sides of the chair he was sitting in and said, “No! No! No! I want something to eat and I want some more water and I want some coffee and I want a drink and I want to go outside.”

Longarm looked at him for a long moment. “Well, maybe that last one ain’t such a bad idea. Tom, you and Mr. Goodman escort our friend outside. Keep a close eye on him, though I doubt he’ll do much running.”

Longarm sat there waiting until Archie Barrett reentered through the back door. He had shed his coat and his vest was open and he had taken off his tie and his collar.

Motioning at the writing paraphernalia, Longarm said, “You ready to oblige me now with this letter?”

Barrett looked at him cunningly. He said, “I want something to eat first. I smell bacon. I’d like some bacon and eggs.”

“After you write the letter, Mr. Barrett.”

The squat man flared up, jerking back his shoulders. He said, “You may think you’re tough, but you ain’t near as tough as I am. You son of a bitch, I’ll finish you before it’s all over with.”

Longarm nodded at Tom Hunter. “Put him back in his room and this time, don’t be so careful. You don’t need to handle him so cautiously, if you take my meaning.”

He sat back down in the chair behind him and listened to the sounds of the commotion coming from the other room. Even as thick as the walls were, Longarm could hear the sounds of blows and of screams. In a moment, Tom Hunter and Goodman were back. Tom Hunter was flexing his right hand. His knuckles looked bruised.

Longarm said, “Mr. Barrett didn’t fall down, did he?”

Tom Hunter smiled faintly. He said, “Yeah, tripped over the sill of the room right there. Took a bad spill. I hate it when a guest in my house has that kind of misfortune.”

“Has he got water?”

Goodman said, “That’s the bad thing about it. When he fell, he knocked over the table where his pitcher and pan were. spilled every drop of water on the floor.”

“Somebody ought to take him some more one of these days,” said Longarm.

Hunter said, “I’ll get to it, right away. First, I need to go outside and see about my cattle.”

Goodman stood up. He said, “Reckon I do, too.”

“Y’all don’t get in a hurry, hear?” Longarm said. “By the way, send Rufus in here. I want to ask him about his trip into town.”

Rufus Goodman had just returned from hauling a load of water from a little nearby spring where Tom Hunter got his household water. It wasn’t a big enough supply for his cattle. They had to be driven several miles farther on to a little creek that was threatening to go dry. Of course, none of this would have been necessary had Barrett not dammed up Hunter’s main stream that ran so close to the house. They brought the water in for the horses. They were all being kept in the barn, out of sight from any curious passersby. That way, it appeared that only Tom Hunter was home alone. Longarm had cautioned that every man should keep himself well concealed.

The young man came in, and Longarm questioned him about what he had heard in town. Young Goodman shrugged his shoulders and said he hadn’t heard a word about Archie Barrett. “But then I don’t reckon I would, Marshal. They kind of keep their business close up to themselves. It’ll be a few days before it gets around town that something’s wrong.”

Longarm nodded and sent the boy back so he could finish up his chore of watering the horses. After that, he settled back to think. Barrett was going to be a tougher nut to crack than he’d imagined, but crack he would. Longarm had no doubt of it, even if it meant that he would personally have to go into the room and talk to Barrett.

That night at supper, Tom Hunter said, “Now, I understand that you want Archie Barrett to write a note to Jake Myers. How are you going to get that note to him?”

Longarm looked up. He said, “Why, the simplest way possible. Deputy Hawkins is going to take it.”

Hawkins’s mouth fell open. “Deputy Hawkins! Let me tell you what, Marshal Long. Deputy Hawkins is fixing to resign and become Mr. Hawkins again, pretty damned quick, and get on about his business of peddling various kinds of leather.”

Longarm gave him a mild look. He said, “Now, George, you know there’s nobody else that can take that note. None of us can take it. We’d have to rope and drag a Barrett man up here and convince him to take it. It’s the most natural thing in the world for Archie Barrett to send that note with you. Can’t you all see that?”

Everybody nodded but Hawkins, who said, “Now, dammit, Longarm. I ain’t got no desire to go into that armed camp. I went into one for you and got out alive. I sure as hell don’t want to press my luck.”

Longarm nodded his head and said, “George, I’ve got faith in you. I know that you’ll do the right thing when the time comes. But let’s don’t study on it right now. First we’ve got to get that note out of old Archie. He’s being damned stubborn about this matter. I may have to talk to him myself.”

Goodman said, “I’d appreciate it if you’d let Rufus here have the next conversation with him. Rufus is real fond of Archie Barrett, aren’t you, boy?”

The younger Goodman said, “Yes, sir, Pa. I’m just real fond of him. I’d take great pleasure in speaking to him, especially in a closed room.”

Rufus Goodman had been able to find smoked ham in town and they were having that and canned tomatoes and canned peaches. Robert Goodman had turned out to be a first-class biscuit maker and they were also having baking powder biscuits. Tom Hunter claimed it was the first decent meal he’d had since his wife had left.

Longarm said, “Well, it’s a good thing. I don’t know if I could have kept this crew on the job if we’d had much more of your corn bread and that crispy stuff you call bacon. Have you ever heard of taking it off the fire before it turned into charcoal?”

Tom Hunter laughed good-naturedly. He said, “Well, my wife gave me about two hours of instruction in cooking before she left. I guess she must have left out a few things.”

Longarm asked, “Did anybody see any riders today that were more than the common number?”

Robert Goodman and Tom Hunter looked at each other. Both men shook their heads. Hunter said, “I didn’t see any extra activity, Marshal, but then, it’s still a little early. I don’t think they know which way to look. They might have been looking around to the west or in town. No, you said Rufus here didn’t hear anything in town. But you can bet they’ll be coming and not in the distant future, either. I don’t figure we’ve got forever to get what you want out of Barrett.”

Longarm said, “Well, I reckon we’d better start standing watches tonight. It shouldn’t be any hardship. We’ll cut it up into about eight hours and each man can watch about two hours. I’m deliberately letting Mr. Hawkins out of that duty because I’m going to have to call on him for that extra-special job of work of carrying the note to Myers, if we ever get it. So, it’ll just be the four of us doing two hours each, and I’ll take the first one, beginning at eleven o’clock. That ought to see us through dawn. One thing that y’all have to be certain of and that is not to give anybody that’s spying up here any reason to think that there’s anything unusual going on. There’s more here than normally would be here, so let’s not bunch up. I know you’ve got to see to your cattle and I know you’ve got to herd them, but young Rufus ought to be able to handle that. I think the rest of us should try to stay out of sight as much as possible. I know I am.”

Hunter said, “What about Barrett? When are we going to give another little glimmer?”

Longarm said, “I reckon first thing in the morning. I don’t reckon he’s going to spend a very comfortable night, seeing as how he’s out of water. He ought to be getting pretty hungry by now, and he ain’t yelling anywhere near as loud as he was yesterday. He seems to be running out of wind.”

Tom Hunter said, “Reckon we ought to have knocked a little more out of him?”

Longarm shook his head. He said, “Tom, you can carry that stuff too far. It’ll even get a coward’s back up, if you bruise him up too much and he figures he ain’t got anything to lose. No, we’re going to work on Mr. Barrett’s mind. See, he don’t know that we’ve got plans for him. He don’t know anything. All he knows is that he’s hungry, he’s thirsty, and he’s uncomfortable. He don’t know what the hell has happened and that unknown thing is what’s bothering him most of all. If you beat on a man, you can stiffen his backbone more than you think. I figure he’ll be most vulnerable at first light, so when we’re all up, we’ll have another go at it and see what happens.”

Longarm spent his watch sitting out in front of the cabin gazing across the moonlit range. It was a pretty sight. He could make out a few lights still on in town, and he wondered how Mrs. Thompson was getting along. She was going to be a very instrumental part of this plan, and for her sake, he desperately hoped it would work. In the short time he had known her, he’d grown fond of her and he’d come to admire her. If for no other reason than her welfare, he intended to bring peace to the area and to pull the teeth of the big bully families that had been causing so much trouble. She was a fine woman and did not deserve the sadness that had been brought into her life. He hoped, for her sake and for his, that the business could be wound up very quickly. There were some parts of his plan he didn’t understand because he didn’t know the ins and outs of certain parts of it, but he figured that either she did or Hawkins did or somebody did and he’d just follow their advice. What he needed now were the two ringleaders in his custody and at his mercy. After that, he thought things might well go along the right path.

Everyone was up a little before seven. Tom Hunter put a big pot of coffee on to brew and started some bacon frying mainly for Archie Barrett’s benefit. Then Longarm set the paper and the ink bottle and the pen out on the table again and sent the older Goodman and his son to fetch Archie Barrett.

Barrett looked worse than he had the day before, which was what Longarm had expected. His clothes were in disarray and a grubby black growth of whiskers was sprouting. He came into the room working his mouth and saying, “Water! Water! I’ve got to have some water. I’m dying of thirst.”

Longarm nodded at the paper and the pen. He said, “All you’ve got to do, Mr. Barrett, to get some water and a meal, is to pick up that pen and write what I tell you. Set him in that chair, Mr. Goodman.”

They guided Barrett into the chair and Robert Goodman held the pen out to him. He looked at it for a moment and then tentatively reached for it. He looked up at Longarm. Longarm could tell from his eyes there was still plenty of fight left in him.

“What the hell do you think I’m supposed to write?” Barrett said.

“Dip the pen in the ink and start off by saying, ‘Jake Myers.’ Just write that down, not ‘Dear Jake’ or ‘To Jake Myers.’ Just write down ‘Jake Myers’ and I’ll tell you the rest.”

Barrett stared at the paper and then stared at Longarm. He said, “I don’t know what the hell you’re trying to pull, but I ain’t going to have no part of it.” With a sudden move, he swept his hand across the table, striking the bottle of ink. It slid to the edge and would have tipped over except for the quick hands of Rufus Goodman. He caught it just off the stone floor. It would have broken for certain and that would have meant another trip to town for more ink.

Longarm shook his head. “Barrett, you ain’t making yourself very popular around here.” He glanced over at Rufus. “Son, did any of that ink spill?” he said.

“Yes, sir. There’s a pretty good splotch on the floor. I tried to catch it in time, but it was canted sideways and about half of it spilled out.”

Longarm sighed. He said, “Barrett, I’m sorry as hell that you did that. Now, take your shirt off and mop up Mr. Hunter’s floor. He don’t want folks staining it with ink. Understand me?”

Barrett glared at him. He said, “Go to hell.”

Longarm nodded at Hunter. He said, “Mr. Hunter, would you and Mr. Goodman assist Mr. Barrett in taking off his shirt and help him mop that ink up? Get him down on his hands and knees. Might be his face would be the best thing to wipe that spot instead of his shirt.”

With rough hands, they stripped the vest and then the white shirt off Archie Barrett. Then, holding him by both arms, they hustled him out of the chair and then bent him over until his face was touching the floor. Longarm’s view was blocked by the table, but he could see them making swabbing motions with Archie Barrett’s upper body. Finally, he said, “All right. That’s enough.”

They brought Archie Barrett back up and plumped him into the chair. Longarm noticed that he was hairy all over his body. He said, “Mister Barrett, now I know why you act like a gorilla. My God, I’ve never seen a man with so much hair in all my life. You need to shave your back.”

Barrett’s face was a mess. Hunter and Goodman had not been as careful as they could have been about putting Barrett’s shirt between his face and the ink. A good deal of the ink had been smeared down one side of his cheek and his forehead and into his hair. The shirt was a mess.

Barrett said sullenly, “You son of a bitch, you’ll pay for this one of these days.”

Longarm said, “No, Mr. Barrett, you’re going to pay. You are going to pay and pay and pay and then pay back what you’ve stolen from these people. Understand that?” He leaned across the table so that Barrett could get the full implication of his words. “I’m glad you brought up the word pay, because you ain’t got no idea how much you and Jake Myers owe these folks, and I’m going to see that you pay back every damned cent. Take him back to his room, boys, and this time, don’t be quite so gentle.”

As they pulled Barrett up, he said, “Wait a minute, damn it. Wait a minute.”

Longarm said, “What?”

Barrett stared at the blank sheet of paper and the pen. Then he looked up at Longarm. “What do you want me to write to Jake Myers?”

“I want you to invite him to a rendezvous with you. I want you to tell him that you want to have a meeting with him.”

“Why would I want to have a meeting with Jake Myers?”

“You want to have a meeting about me. About a deputy U.S. marshal who is stirring up trouble. You want to talk about doing something about me.”

“Why would he come?”

Longarm said, “Because he’s already worried about me, that’s why. I’ve already killed two of his men, maybe more; I don’t know. I’ve lost track.”

Barrett stared at him. His little pig eyes bored straight ahead into Longarm’s face. He said, “You think you’re pretty tough, don’t you mister?”

Longarm shook his head. He said, “No, I don’t think I’m tough. I think I’m doing my job. Now, do you want to write that letter and then get some water and some of that bacon that’s frying over there?”

The room began to fill with the mouth-watering smell of the bacon. In a little while, Longarm knew, it would smell like burned bacon if Tom Hunter was kept on as cook, but for the time being it smelled good. Longarm said, “What’s it going to be? Speak now. I ain’t got time to fool with you.”

Barrett shook loose from Goodman and Hunter. He said, “Give me the damned pen and ink.” Rufus Goodman was holding the bottle of ink and the pen. He set them in front of Archie Barrett.

Barrett picked up the pen and then dipped it into the ink. He looked up at Longarm and said, “You swear you’ll give me water and something to eat if I write this, and then you’ll turn me loose?”

Longarm said, “I’m not going to swear anything to you, Mr. Barrett. I promise you this and I’ll swear this to you, you’re going back into that room until you rot if you don’t write. That’s what I will swear to you. So, you make up your mind about it.”

Barrett’s voice took on a whine. He said, “I don’t see what you need with me after I write this letter. You ought to be willing to turn me loose. If I write it, you ought to be through with me.”

“What are you doing, Mr. Barrett? Reading my mind? You don’t know what’s in my mind. Now, you write what I tell you, and I’ll give you some water and some breakfast. That’s all I’ll promise you. It’s your choice: either write or go back in that room.”

Barrett’s face grew sullen. He glanced around at the hard-looking men standing around him. Finally, he dipped his pen again in the ink and then wrote the name Jake Myers at the top. After that, he looked up at Longarm, the pen poised in his hand. He said, “Now what?”

Longarm said, “Write what I tell you.”

Myers, I think we need to have a meeting about this here United States marshal that has come to town and is causing quite a bit of trouble. I hear he has been interfering in your business and I damned sure know he’s been interfering in mine. I’m sending this note by that leather peddler Hawkins who has been over here trying to sell me a saddle. He says he is on his way to your place. I figure we should meet this afternoon about three o’clock at the rocky hill just east of town. I figure that’s about halfway between us. I won’t be bringing any men with me.

We’ve had our differences in the past, but I figure we need to handle this one with a common interest. Once he’s dealt with, we can take up where we left off, but until that time, I’m willing to call a truce between us. If you can’t come at three o’clock, send me a note back by that saddle salesman.

Longarm waited until Barrett had finished writing. He had to admit that the man wrote a damned good hand.

When Barrett had finished the last sentence, he looked up. Longarm said, “Just sign your name. Archie Barrett.”

When the document was complete, Longarm took it up and read it carefully, looking for any tricks or hidden meanings. There were none. Barrett had taken it down exactly as he had spoken it.

Barrett said, a little croak in his voice, “Now, what about some water and some whiskey and something to eat?”

Longarm grinned at him. He said, “You know, Mr. Barrett, you expect us now to treat you fair and decent, like we’re going to keep our part of the bargain because you’ve kept yours. Well, I don’t think we’re going to do that, Barrett. We’re going to treat you the way you’ve been treating these folks around here for years. You can have some breakfast and you can have some water and you can have some coffee—you can’t have no whiskey—but you can only have it after we’ve had our breakfast. Mr. Hunter and Mr. Goodman, would y’all escort Mr. Archie Barrett back to his room?”

It gave Longarm a deep inside chuckle to hear Barrett scream and curse as he was thrown once again into the room and have the heavy door shut on him. When Hunter and Goodman came back, Longarm rubbed his hands together. He said, “Well, gentlemen, let’s get this thing started. Let’s have some breakfast. I believe we can even have some eggs, courtesy of young Mr. Goodman here and his endeavors. Mr. Goodman, if you’ll fry up a good batch of eggs and keep Tom out of the kitchen and make up some more of those baking powder biscuits, we’ll have a good feed.”

He glanced over at Hawkins. “Then Deputy George Hawkins will be off on his mission to carry this little missive to our good friend, Jake Myers.”

Hawkins just gave Longarm a sour look and got up to pour himself a cup of coffee. He said as he passed, “You know I wouldn’t do this, Marshal, if the pay wasn’t right. I’d do nearly anything for two dollars a day.”

Longarm smiled. He said, “That’s the spirit, Mr. Hawkins. By the way, do you know where this rocky hill is?”

Hawkins said, “Of course. If you recall, I was the one who suggested it. I probably know this country better than any one person around here. Lord knows I’ve been all over it.”

While they had waited for Barrett to agree to write the note, Longarm had questioned the others about a possible rendezvous point that would also give him a place of ambush. A small hill with rocky outcroppings had been chosen, mainly because about a mile farther north there was a small butte with some little caves that led into it. It would make an ideal place for Longarm to await the coming of Jake Myers and Hawkins.

From the kitchen, Hawkins said, “In that letter you got Barrett telling Myers to come alone. I can guarantee you, Marshal Long, that Jake Myers ain’t going to stir his fat old ass out into the open without a couple, three gunhands with him. That’s for sure.”

Longarm said, “Well, if that’s the way it has to be, that’s the way it’s got to be. You just make sure you ain’t amongst them, that you have business back in town.”

They ate their breakfast and then Tom Hunter and the elder Mr. Goodman went to get Archie Barrett out and feed and water him. While they were at the task, Longarm beckoned Hawkins out the front door. They walked a little way from the cabin, surveying the range that led back down toward the town. Longarm said, “Look here, George, if you’re really not of mind to deliver that note to Mr. Myers, I can understand it. I don’t want to ask you to do something you don’t really want to do, because I figure you’ve already done more than I could ask of any citizen, luring Mr. Barrett out from behind his fort where I could get my hands on him.”

George Hawkins smiled slightly. He said, “Well, that’s mighty kind of you, Marshal, though I think you’re just trying to salve your own conscience. If I don’t take that note, who do you reckon is going to take it? Tom Hunter? Rufus Goodman? Robert Goodman? I don’t think so. Why don’t you just take it yourself? It would be just about the same as if you sent one of them.”

“You could go into town and find some young boy and pay him a couple dollars to take it out there.”

Hawkins laughed. He said, “Yeah, and the first thing Jake Myers is going to ask that boy is, ‘Who gave you that note, son? I’m going to twist your arm off and shove it up your ass.’ And that kid would describe me and then Mr. Myers would know.” He shook his head. “No, there ain’t but one way, and that’s for me to stick my head in the lion’s den again, like it or not. Why all this, Marshal? Are you getting worried about me?”

“No, I can’t say that I’m getting worried about you, George. It’s just that you bitch such an uncommon much when you’re asked to do the least little old thing, like just make a short five-mile ride and drop off a note and come back.”

Hawkins looked Longarm steadily in the eye. He said, “You want this note put in Myers’s hands, don’t you?”

“Yep.”

“You don’t want it handed off to some hired hand and then I turn tail and run, do you?”

“Nope.”

“So, then I’ll be standing there while Jake Myers reads it. Right?” Hawkins said.

“Right.”

“And you reckon he’s going to let me take off?”

Longarm took a second to answer. Finally, he said, “I don’t see why not.”

Hawkins laughed. “Then you’re a bigger damn-fool than I thought. Listen, this time, don’t shoot so damned close to me. That’s all I ask.”

“You ain’t got no idea what I’m going to do,” Longarm said.

Hawkins spit on the ground and scuffed at it with the toe of his boot. He said, “Marshal, I’ve done seen you in action. I know how you do your talking. Now, let’s go back in. I could do with another cup of coffee.”

Longarm turned around and glanced inside the cabin. He could see that Barrett was still at the table. He said, “Let’s wait a minute until that pig gets out of there. I can’t stand the sight of him.”

Hawkins cackled. He said, “He is a sight, isn’t he. That’s the hairiest son of a bitch I believe I’ve ever seen. What we ought to have done, or maybe still could do, is hold him over a low fire and turn him and singe all that hair off of him. Wouldn’t do no good shaving it, it’d just grow back.”

Longarm said, “Mr. Hawkins, you do have the best ideas. Are you sure you want to do this?”

Hawkins looked at him with amazement in his face. “Want to do it? Hell, no, I don’t want to do it. But will I do it? Hell, yes, I’ll do it. You just be damned sure you do your part.”

Longarm said with a straight face, “I’ll go inside and get about a half of a bottle of whiskey in me so as to steady my hand. How’s that? That make you feel better?”

Hawkins stared at him with round eyes. He said, “Don’t be saying that to an old reformed drunk. My God, man. You scare me to death talking like that. I better not even see you near a bottle of whiskey.”

“Oh, I won’t be near a bottle. I’ll put it in a glass if that makes you feel any better.”

Hawkins said, “You are a rare son of a bitch, Marshal.”

Longarm answered, “No, I call myself more well done than rare.

Chapter 9

They had all calculated that it was about a two-hour ride for Hawkins to Jake Myers’s ranch and a little over an hour’s ride for Longarm to the butte where he could take up his ambush position on the northern side of the knoll they called Rocky Hill, the place the note suggested that Barrett and Jake Myers meet. Hawkins was fidgety and anxious to get it over with, so they sent him off at about eleven o’clock, allowing him to take it slow and easy so as to arrive around one o’clock and hope that he could get Myers started no later than two. Longarm planned to give himself plenty of time. He was going to start for his position no later than noon.

Rufus Goodman had Longarm’s horse saddled and bridled and had made sure that the saddle blanket was smooth and that the roan’s hooves were clean with no stones or any other objects that could make the gelding go lame. Longarm’s preparations were to put a dozen rifle cartridges into his shirt pocket and to stick his extra .44-caliber revolver in his belt. It might be uncomfortable, but then he couldn’t be sure when he was going to need it. Hunter urged him to take along a 12-gauge, double-barreled shotgun that Hunter owned, but Longarm said, “If I let anybody get that close, I’ll go to fighting him with the butt end of my pistol.”

The others had watched Hawkins ride away. Longarm came back inside and sat down at the table. There wasn’t a whole hell of a lot to say. Either Myers came and they could go ahead with their plan, or he wouldn’t. There was nothing they could do about it.

Longarm said, “Did our star boarder make a good breakfast?”

Robert Goodman shook his head. He said, “I damned near couldn’t cook fast enough, the way that son of a bitch was poking it down, and he must have drank about a half of gallon of water and about the same amount of coffee. Then he had the nerve to want whiskey.”

Longarm shook his head. “I’m glad I wasn’t here to see it.”

Tom Hunter said, “He ain’t a very pretty sight, I’ve got to admit that. I don’t know how long it’s going to take me to get that room clean and smelling like anything.”

Longarm stood up, yawned, and walked to the door. The figure of Hawkins was a mere dot in the distance as he traveled toward the northwest. He turned back into the room. He said, “I guess I’d better think about getting ready to go.” He found the bottle of whiskey where he had left it in the kitchen and poured himself a half a glass. He put some water in it to make it last longer and then began sipping.

Mr. Goodman looked at him curiously. He said, “You pretty fond of that stuff, Marshal.”

Longarm shook his head. He said, “No, I drink it under doctor’s orders.”

“Doctor’s orders? What doctor ordered you to drink whiskey?”

Longarm said, “I never got his name. He was shaking so bad, with me pointing a gun at him, that he could barely write out the instructions of how much whiskey I was supposed to drink every day.”

They all laughed, though not very loud. They were all nervous and worried.

Tom Hunter stood up from the table. He had strapped on a gun belt with a revolver in a deep holster. He was obviously no gunman. He said, “Marshal, don’t you reckon it might be a good idea if I went with you to try and stop Myers? I can guarantee you he ain’t coming by himself. You’ll have two, three, maybe more to deal with. You might could use some help.”

Longarm shook his head. “I’m sure you’re a good and capable man, Tom. I’m sure you’re a very capable man at a lot of things, but this is the kind of business I’ve had a lot of experience in. Hawkins, bless his soul, might be in the middle of that bunch, and I’d rather it just be me doing the shooting. Nothing said against you, understand?”

“I catch your drift, and you’re probably right.”

“Beside that,” Longarm said. “If they get through me, there’s an excellent chance they might make straight for here. If that’s the case, you’re going to need all the guns you can muster. So I think it’s better if you stay here, Tom, as well as young Rufus and Mr. Goodman.”

He looked over at the young man. He said, “My horse ready, Rufus?”

“Yes, sir. He’s as ready as he’s going to get.”

Longarm got out his watch and looked at it. He said, “Then I reckon it’s time for me to be starting. Do we have a canteen handy? It might get a little warm out there, waiting.”

Rufus said, “I’ve already hung one on your saddle horn, Marshal. It ain’t but a gallon canteen, but it ought to do ya. Do you want to take along any grub?”

Longarm said, “I don’t reckon this is the kind of job that a man needs to take along his lunch. This ought to be over pretty quick. Well, I’ll be going now.” He gave them a nod and walked out the front door. He could feel the others coming out behind him. Without looking back, he mounted his roan gelding and reined him around toward the northwest.

Behind him, Tom Hunter said, “You’ll see Rocky Hill pretty quick after you go over a rise and down a valley and then up another rise. You can’t miss it. Then it’s about a mile on past that to that butte where you’ll be taking up your position.”

Longarm looked around at them. He said, “Keep our guest happy, and I’ll see if I can’t bring us in another boarder.” They mumbled and nodded and shuffled their feet and gave him a wave as he put the spurs to the roan and left at a high lope.

The butte was almost ideal for Longarm’s purposes. He was able to hide his horse behind a little rocky outcropping that was almost like a cave. He could peer around a ledge and have a clear view to the northwest toward the Myerses’ ranch where he hoped Jake Myers and George Hawkins would be coming from and coming soon. His watch said one o’clock and he was starting to worry. They should have been in sight.

He sat in the shade at the feet of his horse and took a little nip of whiskey and smoked a cigarillo. There was no one in sight to spot the slight trail of smoke that was drifting upward. He could only hope that Hawkins and the note were bait enough to fetch the big fish out of his little pond. Every ten minutes or so, he glanced around the ledge, hoping to see something. There was nothing the first several times he looked.

Finally, at one thirty, he was able to distinguish a group of black dots coming from the proper direction and heading his way. He took one more swallow of whiskey and put it back in his saddlebag, buckled it shut, and then took a drink of water out of the canteen. It had become lukewarm in the afternoon sunshine, but it was wet. He looked again. The dots were much closer, and there were more of them than he had hoped there would be. They had not come close enough yet for him to take a count, but he knew with a sinking heart that there were more than two or three. This, he thought, was going to be tougher than he expected.

He put a boot in his stirrup and mounted his horse, pulling him back farther behind the ledge. He took off his hat and peered around the edge of the rock. Now the riders were only a half mile to a mile off. As best he could, he could count six and there might have even been a seventh. He couldn’t tell who they were. Longarm wouldn’t have known Jake Myers if they had been in a poker game together, but he felt certain he would recognize the easy riding style of Hawkins.

Longarm got ready by tying a knot in his reins and dropping them behind the saddle horn. It appeared it would be a two-hand job, and he’d have to guide his pony with his knees. The horse had been well trained and he had no doubt that it would work out like that.

He took one last look and saw that the riders were only three or four hundred yards off. Now, he could see them clearly. Up front and in the middle was a big, heavyset man wearing a white Stetson hat and a gray beard. He was plump and heavy and looked to be at least sixty years old. Longarm had little doubt that the man was Jake Myers. Then he saw George Hawkins, riding a little behind and to the right of Myers. His heart sank as he counted the outriders. There were five of them, five gunmen. He was certain of that. Well, this was going to take some doing, he thought. He guessed that it might scare Hawkins a little more than Hawkins cared to be scared, but he didn’t know how else to go about it. He got his Winchester up out of the boot and got set, pulling back slightly on the reins to let the horse know that they were fixing to do something. He listened rather than looked. He could hear the hoofbeats of the horses going at a fast trot as they neared and then as they passed.

As they passed, he swung his horse out and put the spurs to him and circled the rock to his left, keeping on around the butte until he was in behind the party. He was some hundred or hundred and fifty yards behind them, but he didn’t care. It was going to be difficult shooting, but he thought he could manage it. He lifted his horse up into a slow gallop and raised up in his stirrups and threw the Winchester to his shoulder. He hated to shoot horses, but he didn’t know any other way outside of shooting the men in the back, and he wasn’t going to do that. What he hoped to do was burn the horses with a shot across the rump, enough to either cripple them temporarily or cause them to buck and change direction, perhaps throwing their riders.

Longarm got off the first shot on the man trailing and he saw immediately that the tactic might work. The horse suddenly veered to his right and began pitching. It caught the rider so off guard that he went tumbling off, going head over feet, sprawling on the rocky ground.

They didn’t seem to have heard the shot, and Longarm levered in another cartridge and aimed at the horse next in line. He fired again and this time the horse stumbled, his hindquarters sagging. Longarm feared he had wounded the horse too deeply, but by then, he had no time to look. Already, he had thrown a fresh shell into the chamber and had fired at the third horse. It instantly went down in a heap, rolling over the rider and pinning him. By now, the other four riders were aware that they were under fire. Myers was to the far left. Beside him, and trying to drop back, rode Hawkins. There were two gunmen to the right of the leather salesman, all looking backward.

Longarm didn’t like them so close to Hawkins. It was going to be a hard shot from about seventy yards off a running horse, but he stood up in his stirrups and aimed carefully at the gunman nearest George Hawkins. He squeezed off a shot and saw the man suddenly pitch forward and then slowly slide down the side of his galloping horse. The other man fired off a revolver shot that went over Longarm’s head. Longarm was coming up on the first of the men whose horses he had disabled. The man was still down, but he was scrambling to pick up a revolver. Longarm couldn’t afford to waste another rifle cartridge as he only had one left and he didn’t have time to reload. He quickly flipped the Winchester from his right hand to his left and drew his revolver and fired at the man from about five yards away as he closed on him rapidly. The bullet caught the man somewhere near the middle of his chest, and he whirled around and fell forward.

The next man was still under his horse, but at that instant, Longarm saw real danger. The third man he’d dropped was clear of his horse and had somehow managed to get his rifle in his hands. He was squatting there on one knee, leveling down, trying to bring his sights to bear on Longarm. There was no time to shoot carefully. The man was thirty or forty yards away, which was a very long shot for a pistol. All Longarm could do was thumb the big .44 revolver and fire as fast as he could. The man got off one rifle shot and it sang right by Longarm’s ear. The third shot Longarm fired took the man in the belly. He doubled over, dropping his rifle, and fell on his side.

Now there was no more time to be concerned about those that were left. It was time to get the best of the gunmen, get Hawkins loose, and take Jake Myers into custody. He had the one cartridge left in his Winchester, and putting the spurs to his horse, he closed the distance to thirty yards before he raised up to fire at the last man. The man was turned in his saddle, firing rapidly with a revolver. Longarm shot him just under the shoulder. The bullet knocked him across the side of the saddle. For a second, he hung down among the thrashing hooves of his horse. Then he slipped away, falling to the ground and went tumbling end over end over end.

In that instant, Hawkins suddenly split away to the right, leaving only Jake Myers riding alone. As Longarm gained on him, he could see the old fat man giving frightened looks over his shoulder. Their horses were both in a dead run, but Longarm’s had much the easier load, and within ten jumps, Longarm was almost up to the tail of Myers’s horse. He could see Myers fumbling inside his pocket for some kind of weapon. He didn’t want to shoot the man—it would defeat his purpose—so he swerved his horse over until he was right behind the old man and his mount. The man was too stout to turn far enough around in his saddle to fire, and Longarm knew that his horse wasn’t going to be able to run much farther, carrying such a load. To get Myers’s attention, Longarm pulled the extra revolver out of his waistband and, aiming carefully, shot the white Stetson off the old man’s head. It took all the starch out of Myers. His horse was already beginning to slow. Longarm fired another warning shot and then Myers pulled his horse down to a gallop and then a lope and then finally down to a trot. Longarm frantically waved for Hawkins to ride away before he came up alongside Jake Myers.

The old man turned his fat, florid face on Longarm and gave him such a look of fury that Longarm was glad he wasn’t carrying a cannon. If he had been, Longarm thought he might have taken great delight in putting a hole through the man. As he came abreast of Myers, he said, making his point with the revolver he was still carrying in his hand, “If you’ve got any hardware on you, Mr. Myers, or anything that’s likely to shoot, you’d better get rid of it right now, or else this thing in my hand is likely to go off.”

The old man gave him a disgusted look and then reached into the pocket of his suit coat and came out with a small-caliber revolver and cast it aside.

They slowed to a walk.

Longarm said, “Jake Myers, my name is U.S. Deputy Marshal Custis Long. You are under arrest for various offenses, both federal and state.”

Myers’s face was furious. He said, “You go to hell.”

Longarm said, “Maybe, but first we’re going to go up to Tom Hunter’s cabin so you can meet and talk to Archie Barrett and he can tell you how comfortable it is living up there.”

Jake Myers’s voice was unnaturally high for a man of his girth and size. He said, “Let me tell you something, you simpleton son of a bitch, you ain’t got any right to arrest me, and before this is all over, you’re going to sure as hell wish you hadn’t. I’ve got friends, plenty of friends. They’ll probably not only have your job, they’ll probably have your ass.”

Longarm reached out and grabbed the bridle of Jake Myers’s horse and brought them both to a stop. He said, “Let’s me and you get something straight right quick, Myers. Nothing about you scares me. In fact, there’s nothing about you that makes me feel anything at all except disgust. You’ve had it all your way around here for far too long, and you’ve made a lot of folks miserable as hell. But all that’s over with now. There’s nothing you could do to me, but I’m going to do plenty to you. Let’s get that straight. I’m a United States deputy marshal and you can’t touch me.”

Myers glared at him for a moment and then waved a hand at the departing figure of George Hawkins. He said, “There goes a Judas goat. I’ll hang that son of a bitch, that’s for sure. He’s the one who lured me into your trap.”

Longarm said, “That man has been sworn in as a deputy United States marshal, same as me. You touch one hair on his head, and you’ll never see so much trouble in all your life. There’ll be five hundred deputy marshals come boiling down around this place, and there won’t be a thing left of this countryside once they get through. Matter of fact, nothing will grow here for ten years once they get through, and that includes you. Now, you might as well make your mind up to the fact that things have changed and there’s not a damned thing you can do about it. Let’s get to making some tracks for Tom Hunter’s cabin. We’ve got some business to do today. I’m as sick of this whole affair as I’ve ever been of any job I’ve ever had since I became a marshal. I’d like to get it over with and get out of here and away from the likes of you and Archie Barrett. Get that damned horse moving, that is if he can carry your fat gut the mile or two more we’ve got to go.”

As they rode, Myers said only one thing and that was to ask Longarm if he had intentionally set up an ambush for him.

Longarm said, “Hell, no, Myers. I’ve been watching for you to come out of your lair for some time. It was just an accident that you came along at just the time I was hiding behind that butte. Just one of those lucky coincidences. I’m sorry about your men. Seems like several of them had horses step into gopher holes and fall over.”

The fat man turned in his saddle and glared again at Longarm. He said, “I don’t know how I’m going to do it, but I’m going to fix your wagon.”

Longarm smiled. “My wagon ain’t broke, Myers. Now, get moving.”

Just before they got to Tom Hunter’s cabin, Myers said, “I don’t know what you got in mind, marshal, but I do know you can’t stay here forever, and when you leave, things’ll get straightened back out again.”

“Mr. Myers, you know that very thought occurred to me. An idea came to me in the middle of the night and I went to thinking about it and I’ve kind of got it figured out how things aren’t going to go back to where they were after I leave. I think I’ve got a way where we can get you and Mr. Barrett to be good to your neighbors. You reckon?”

Myers’s only reaction was to give Longarm another one of his glares. Longarm calculated that the man could make as ugly a face as anyone he had ever seen.

As they came riding up to the door of the cabin, Tom Hunter and the Goodmans came crowding out, their faces alight with smiles. The Goodmans practically dragged Jake Myers out of his saddle. He was their principal meat, since they were convinced that it was his men who had burned them out and stolen their cattle. Longarm dismounted, loosened the cinch on his horse’s saddle, untied the knot in the reins, and let them fall to the ground. He figured young Rufus would tend to the horses in due time after he got through helping Myers into the cabin. Tom Hunter stood silently by the door, looking pleased. As Longarm came up, he stuck out his hand and they shook.

Tom Hunter said, “Congratulations, Marshal. Was it easy?”

“About like falling off a log. That is, a log straight up and you don’t want to fall off a log straight up.”

“He have any men with him?”

“Five.”

Hunter whistled softly. He said, “And what did they have to say about the matter?”

Longarm shook his head. “I don’t know,” he said. “They kept falling off their horses. I don’t know what was the matter with them. I’d be damned if I’d hire men like that. Couldn’t ride for sour grapes. I think some of them hurt themselves when they fell, too.”

Tom Hunter smiled faintly. “That’s a shame.”

Longarm could see that Tom Hunter was not a cruel man, but he couldn’t blame the rancher for taking some small satisfaction in seeing a little of it coming back his way.

When Longarm got into the main room of the cabin, they had Myers sitting down at the table with his coat off and his shirt undone.

Longarm stopped and looked puzzled. “Y’all fixing to bathe him? I agree he smells a little bit, but this is going a little too far.”

Robert Goodman said grimly, “This is a tricky son of a bitch.” He held out his hand and showed Longarm a derringer. “And I wouldn’t be surprised if he doesn’t have another one somewhere around on his person.”

Longarm looked at Myers. He said, “Damn it, Jake. I’m surprised at you. Didn’t I tell you to get rid of any hardware or anything that might make an explosion or that might shoot somebody? Well, I’m amazed that you didn’t listen to me. I’ve got a good mind to never let you have a gun ever again. Yeah, I reckon y’all had better search him all the way. But for God’s sake, don’t take all his clothes off. I don’t think any of us could stand the sight. I wish I had cattle as fat as he is.”

Tom Hunter said, “Ain’t that the truth. Lord, a man could retire if he had a hundred head carrying that much weight.”

Longarm went into the kitchen and poured himself a glass of whiskey and stood leaning against the counter, sipping it, while he lit a cigarillo. When he had that going good, he turned and asked the group if they were satisfied that Myers had no further weapons.

Goodman nodded. He gestured toward a small pile on the table. He said, “That’s all he’s got. Some coins, his wallet, a penknife, and his watch.”

Longarm said, “Well, chuck him back in that room with his old buddy. He and old Archie ought to have quite a bit to talk about.”

Tom Hunter and Robert Goodman took Jake Myers by the arms and lifted him out of the chair. He began to protest immediately, but he might as well have been talking to rocks for all the attention they paid him. They manhandled him across the space of the big middle room and then unlocked the door and shoved him through. Longarm could hear Myers yelling and shouting and then suddenly shut up. Longarm thought he’d probably seen Archie Barrett and the surprise had taken the words out of his mouth.

Hunter and Goodman came back from their chore. Hunter said, “Now what, Marshal?”

Longarm walked over to the table and sat down. He said, “Now, I’ve got to do some writing. I ain’t real good at this word stuff, though I ought to be, as many reports as I’ve had to turn into my boss, who, by the way, is about twice as mean as both of them sons of bitches put together.”

Robert Goodman said, “What are you going to write, Marshal? You haven’t really filled us in on all the details.”

Longarm yawned. He said, “I think you’ll understand it better after I get it finished.”

Tom Hunter said, “Marshal, we’re all proud of you, dragging them two big shots in here, but I still ain’t quite certain how we’re going to use it to our advantage.”

“Never you mind, Tom. I think we can use it to our advantage. It’s the only hope I can think of.”

Rufus came in from putting the horses up. He was all excited and eager. He said, “Marshal, did you know there’s some blood on the front of your horse and it ain’t from your horse? Must have shot somebody up so close, it splattered on it.”

Longarm smiled slightly. “Did you wash it off?”

“Yes, sir, I did, but I was just wondering how it come to be there.”

The young man’s father looked at him. He said, “Rufus, sometimes you talk too much. Sometimes you ask too many questions.”

Longarm said, “No, that’s all right. That’s the only way the boy’s going to learn.” He turned to Rufus, “Yeah, I had to shoot a guy at about five yards as I was closing on him at a gallop. I was firing my handgun. He was about halfway raised up. I would guess the bullet I pumped into his lungs spurted some blood out. I wish the son of a bitch hadn’t gotten his blood on my horse.”

Rufus said almost breathlessly, “How many you kill, Marshal?”

His daddy said sharply, “Rufus, I’ll have no more of that. You’re starting to sound as bloodthirsty as the men who work for those two in the back room.”

“Your daddy’s right, Rufus. This ain’t anything to be keeping count of, and I don’t take no pleasure in that part of my job. I’m a peace officer. I’m not a trouble officer. Unfortunately, sometimes keeping the peace involves having trouble.”

Tom Hunter brought Longarm several sheets of clean paper and the pen and ink. Longarm got settled down with his drink and his cigarillo and started in to write. He got so far as “We the Undersigned” and then Hawkins came blowing in through the door.

He was looking exuberant and triumphant and excited. He said, “Boys, I never knowed I had it in me! I really never knew I had it in me!” He looked at Longarm. “That’s what I call a good early afternoon piece of work.”

“You want me to congratulate you for going into Jake Myers’s camp, don’t you?”

Hawkins’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down. “Hell, yes. I not only went in and got Barrett, but I went in and got Myers, too. Say, do you know how close some of them bullets you were firing came to me?”

Longarm said, “They never came within ten yards of you. Are you going to start that again?”

Hawkins was almost chortling. He said, “That was something. You know, the way you were burning them horses so they’d go to jumping and pitching and then popping them old boys when they were scrambling around on the ground and then the clean way you knocked them other two off.”

Longarm looked pained, especially from the expression on Rufus Goodman’s face. He said, “By the way, George, you were carrying that .38 caliber pistol of yours. Why the hell didn’t you shoot those guys on either side of you? It would have saved me a lot of trouble.”

Hawkins looked shocked. He said, “Me? Shoot somebody? I ain’t supposed to be shooting anyone. Hell, I’m a leather salesman.”

Longarm said, “You’re a United States deputy marshal, which gives you the right to shoot anybody I’m shooting at.”

Hawkins took off his hat and scratched his head. “You know, I never thought about it that way. I reckon I could have, couldn’t I?”

Longarm gave him a flicker of a smile. He said, “You ever shot anybody, George?”

Hawkins thought a moment, then said, “No, I don’t reckon I have.”

“Then I don’t recommend you go to trying it in the future.”

Hawkins said, “You know it ain’t going to be safe around here for me unless you get Barrett and Myers put plumb away. Of course, they’re still going to have kin around here. I guess you know you’ve ruined this area for me.”

Longarm shook his head. “Nope. I’ve told Jake Myers that you were a United States deputy marshal and you had full right to be doing what you were doing and when I get through with this plan of mine, I don’t think Mr. Barrett or Mr. Myers are going to be bothering anybody. Now, why don’t you go and get yourself a drink of buttermilk or whiskey and quit bothering me? I’ve got this here letter to write.”

“A letter?”

“Well, it ain’t exactly a letter. Let me get on it.”

For the next thirty minutes, Longarm laboriously wrote out two documents. It took him so long because he wasn’t sure of some of the spelling and he never did write a neat hand, and also, he wanted to get the wording just exactly right. The others stood around watching him somberly, curious but not wanting to break into his mood. The only noise was the yelling and screaming from the back room where Jake Myers and Archie Barrett were confined.

When he was finishing the second document, he said, “Does anybody know what Mrs. Thompson’s first name is?”

They looked one to the other. Finally, Hawkins said, “I believe it’s Judith. As a matter of fact, I’m certain it’s Judith. Why don’t you just make it Mrs. Milton Thompson?”

Longarm said, “Yeah, that’s probably the best idea.” Longarm sat back, finally satisfied. He looked the two documents over and then he glanced at the four eager faces staring at him. He said, “Do y’all want to hear what these say?”

Tom Hunter said, “Well, I reckon.”

Hawkins said, “You’re worse than a cat with a mouse. You know we want to know what they say. Lives are at stake here, maybe even my own.”

Longarm said, “All right, I’ll read the first one. It’s a confession. Here’s what it says:

“We, the undersigned, Archie Barrett and Jake Myers, freely and willingly confess to causing the murder of Milton Thompson of Grit, Texas. We also confess to the murder and manslaughter of several homesteaders in the Grit area. We further confess and admit to cattle theft, horse theft, and the burning of homes and barns of homesteaders in the same area. We make this confession of our own free will and we give it in the hope that it will cause peace to come to this area. We understand that this confession, given to United States Deputy Marshal Custis Long, stands as a parole for our insuring that no such further incidents will happen in the Grit area. We further pledge ourselves to the fair and open use of water and grazing rights by all parties concerned in this area. No longer will we dam up streams or run cattle off of government free ranges. This parole, we understand, will become a full-fledged confession of our misdeeds should any of the homesteaders in this area suffer any further damages or mischief, either at our hands or the hands of the men who work for us.

“Agreed to and signed by us on this 16th day of May.”

Longarm looked up. The four men stared back at him dumbfounded. Finally, Tom Hunter found his voice and said, “They’ll never sign it.”

Robert Goodman said, “That’s a death warrant, Marshal. They’re not going to sign that confession. Why should they?”

“For a lot of reasons. The main one being that I’m not going to take them straight to prison. Let me read this other document to you and maybe you’ll understand how we’re going to enforce this first one.”

Hawkins said, “I’d damned sure like to see how you’re going to enforce that first one. The minute you’re gone, they’ll be back up to their mischief.”

Longarm said, “Just let me read you this.” He picked up the second piece of paper.

“We the undersigned, Jake Myers and Archie Barrett, willingly and freely, agree to contribute $50,000 each to the Grit Settlement Association. This money will be held in a bank account in a bank in Junction, Texas, and will be administered by a committee of three, comprised of Tom Hunter, Robert Goodman, and Mrs. Milton Thompson. We understand that this money is to be used in several ways. First, it is to be used to make retribution to those who have suffered losses of property and life by our actions and at our hands. Secondly, this money will be used to make loans to those homesteaders who are having a hard time making a living because of our mischief, interference, and skullduggery. We further understand that if we commit any single act against any of the homesteaders that is to their harm, the confession we signed will immediately come into use and warrants will be issued for our arrest and we will be hunted down and brought to justice. We further understand that in one year from this date, we will each make an additional payment of $25,000 to the Grit Settlement Association. We each understand that the failure to do so will result in the publication of our confession and the issuance of warrants for our arrests. We understand that the confession we have given is not immediately being executed solely in order to repair the damage we have done to the settlement of Grit and to the innocent homesteaders who have tried to make a living here. We pledge ourselves to try our best to repair the damage we have done in the past, and we understand that is the sole reason we are not being taken into custody at the time we execute this document.

“Signed by our hand on May 16.”

Longarm looked up. He said, “Well?”

Hawkins found his voice first. He said, “By damned, Marshal, that’s slick. No question about it. In other words, you’re holding out the carrot. If they behave themselves and don’t cause no more trouble, you won’t stick them in prison right away. But if they don’t, they’re going to prison right now.”

Longarm said, “That’s about the size of it, Mr. Hawkins. Or Deputy Hawkins as I should call you.”

Tom Hunter had an anxious look on his face. He said, “Marshal, that’s slick as bear grease, there’s no question about it. But I just can’t see them signing it. Why would they want to sign a confession?”

Robert Goodman said, “Are you serious about this Grit Settlement Association? That’s a wonderful idea. It’s what Milton Thompson was trying to do. Lord knows, having money in the bank that we could borrow against would help a lot of families through these hard times.”

Longarm said, “The way I look at it, Barrett and Myers did the damage, and I’m going to let them pay to repair it. Now, this ain’t strictly going by the law, but then I never was much of one to go by the book. I ain’t really got no way of proving anything against the two of them. They can get them a smart lawyer and they could play this thing out over several years and nothing would ever come of it. I figure if I could force them to sign these documents, some good would come out of it. Some people who have been hurt can start getting well. That’s the way I see it.”

Tom Hunter said, “It’s a damned good idea, and it’s a good way to do it. It’s the right of the thing. I just hope to hell it will work, but I still can’t see them signing this confession.”

Longarm said, “Well, let’s see. Bring them on out. We’ll let them have a look and get their reaction. In fact, I think I’ll let Deputy Hawkins here read it to them. Would you enjoy that, George?”

Hawkins chuckled his dry little sound. He said, “Yeah, I reckon I would enjoy that. After all, that’s lawmen’s work.”

The difference between the two men was clearly obvious. Jake Myers was older, but Archie Barrett showed the effects of his confinement and ill use. It had obviously preyed on his mind. He looked wilted. He looked defeated. The thought crossed Longarm’s mind that perhaps Jake Myers would have to undergo a few days of confinement himself before he could see a reason for signing the confession. He desperately hoped not. If there was any way he could wrap this business up and head back home, he would do it. Nothing he could think of would be more welcome than a train bound for Denver.

They both came in looking sullen and defiant, but there was still plenty of bluster in Jake Myers. Longarm listened to him spout and shout and curse for a moment or two. He turned to Tom Hunter. He said, “Didn’t I see a pair of good heavy leather work gloves around here?”

Hunter nodded. He said, “They’re out here on the back porch.”

“Would you kindly step out and hand them to me?”

“Be glad to.” In a minute, he was back with the heavy rough leather gloves that had gauntlets that reached halfway up the forearms. Longarm took the pair, stepped deliberately over to the front of Jake Myers, and slapped him as hard as he could across the face with the gloves. The blow staggered the old man backward. A little blood came trickling from his lips.

Longarm said, “Now, listen you old bastard, you fucking murdering son of a bitch. You’re here to listen. You keep your mouth shut until you’re asked a question. If you say another word, you’re going to get a lick of these gloves for every word you say. Have I made myself clear?”

Myers looked murderously at him. He said, “Yeah, I heard you.”

Longarm slapped him with the gloves again, harder this time. “Didn’t I tell you that you were going to get a lick for every word you said? You’ve got three more coming, by the way.”

Some of the bluster had gone out of the old man. Now, he looked frightened.

Barrett said, “You’re supposed to be a law officer. You ain’t supposed to be hitting folks.”

Longarm turned a gimlet eye on the man. He said, “Barrett, the same thing holds for you. Do you want a taste of these gloves, maybe with my fist in them?”

Archie Barrett turned his face and looked away.

Longarm went back around the table and sat down. He said, “Now, you two have been brought out here to hear something. I want you to listen to it, and then consider it very seriously.” He turned to George Hawkins. He said, “Deputy Hawkins, would you read that first document? Just read the first one. Read it aloud and read it carefully so these dumb sons of bitches can understand it.”

Longarm studied the two faces of his prisoners as Hawkins read with great delight the confession that Longarm wanted the men to sign. When he was finished, Barrett and Myers both exploded with a volley of curses. The main words they kept yelling over and over were, “Hell, no. Hell, no. We’re not going to sign that damned thing. Do you think we’re crazy?”

Longarm said, “Let’s get something straight right now, gentlemen. You don’t have to sign that confession for me to have your ass. I can take you right outside to that old oak tree and hang you both for the evidence I’ve got on you.”

Barrett said, bluster still in his voice, “You can’t do no such thing.”

Longarm said, “Mister, I’m afraid you’ve been misinformed. There is a law that says that a United States marshal, in the absence of a judge and jury, can take what steps he deems necessary to protect the public welfare. I think the public welfare would be well served by hanging the pair of you.”

He was making it up out of whole cloth, but he doubted that they knew that.

His remark silenced both Barrett and Myers. They glanced at each other, looking worried. The other men in the room exchanged glances.

Longarm said, “But I don’t want to do that. There is another way to handle this matter. As I have told these gentlemen, I am going to try and give y’all a chance to repair the damage you’ve done. Hanging you just gets rid of you. It doesn’t pay back the widows, it doesn’t rebuild the houses and the barns, it doesn’t replace the cattle, and it doesn’t get men back up on their feet that you have knocked down. Deputy, would you read the second document?”

Longarm leaned back in his chair and smoked a cigarillo while George Hawkins read the document about the Grit Settlement Association. When he was through, he could see that it had given Barrett and Myers food for thought, but Myers burst out, “Fifty thousand dollars? That’s highway robbery! I’m not going to give you any fifty thousand dollars, not to save a bunch of tramps and bums. You’re crazy as hell!”

Longarm got up leisurely, picked up the gloves, and slapped the old man in the face again. Now his nose was starting to bleed. He said, “Myers, if you don’t keep a civil tongue in your mouth, you ain’t going to have a piece of skin left on your face.”

He walked back to his chair at the table and sat down. He said, “Now, are you gentlemen willing to sign these documents?”

Archie Barrett said, “I ain’t. I ain’t signing no confession to murder. You must think I’m crazy.”

Myers said, “I ain’t either.”

Longarm nodded his head. He said, “Throw them back in their room, boys. And would y’all please quit being so gentle? You’re just too nice to these fellows.”

As the Goodmans and Tom Hunter were shoving the two prisoners back to the small stone room, George Hawkins looked over at Longarm and cackled his dry laugh. He said, “You’re about half mean, ain’t you, Marshal?”

Longarm said, “That hurts my feelings.”

“What? Calling you mean?”

“Yeah, I don’t like that half part.”

Hawkins cackled again. He said, “I’ve got a feeling, though, this ain’t your regular style.”

Longarm shrugged. “You don’t play every hand of poker the same, do you?”

“No, indeed,” Hawkins said. “Every card is different.”

“Well, these are two of the worst cards I’ve ever run into and I don’t figure anything is too bad for them.”

Hawkins said, “You really think they’re going to sign that confession?”

“If they don’t, they’re going to wish they had, before it’s all over. I’ll take them into custody and I’ll make up evidence if I have to.”

Hawkins looked at him strangely. “You’d do that?”

Longarm took a draw of his cigarillo and blew the smoke into the air. “In this case, yeah. That is, if I don’t have to shoot them escaping. There’s always that chance.”

Hawkins looked at Longarm curiously. He said, “You know, Marshal, I’ve played poker with you and you’re a hard man to figure out if you’re bluffing. Right now, I don’t know if you’re bluffing or not about all this.”

Longarm shrugged again and gave him a smile. He said, “If you can figure out it’s a bluff, then it’s not much of a bluff, now, is it? I always found out the best hand to bluff with was four aces.”

They brought the two men out again that night about eight o’clock, well after supper. Neither had been given food or drink. By now, Barrett knew what that meant. Jake Myers was just starting to find out, and he complained loud and hard about the treatment. All he received in return was silence.

Longarm said, “You boys ready to sign yet?”

Barrett said, “Hell, no. I ain’t ready to put no rope around my neck.”

“The same goes for me,” said Myers.

Longarm nodded. He said, “Well, welcome back to the Hardship Hotel. Show them back to their room, boys.”

They stood watch again that night. With five of them, they were two beds short, so Rufus made himself a pallet on the cold stone floor and did the best he could. His daddy said it wouldn’t bother him. He said, “That boy can sleep standing up if there’s any work around.”

Longarm caught the watch just before dawn. He was making the coffee when the others began to stir. Tom Hunter came in to help. He said, “I’m getting worried. There’ll be scouting parties out looking for both of them by now. I would think that one ranch has talked to the other ranch, and they’ve found out that both of the big shots are missing. I think we can expect some trouble real soon.”

Longarm said, “I hope so. It’s been pretty dull around here.”

Tom Hunter looked at Longarm. He said, “You actually like it when the guns are going off?”

Longarm shook his head. He said, “No, but at least I know that some progress is being made in one direction or an other.”

They let the cabin fill with the smell of frying meat and eggs and biscuits before they brought the two prisoners back in. Both of them were all eyes for the kitchen. Both of them looked wan and dried. Jake Myers, especially, looked drawn out and tired. Longarm put the same question to each of them. The answer was the same.

This time, Longarm put his boots up on a handy chair and folded his hands up behind his neck. He said, “Gentlemen, I don’t think you fully understand your options. Now, if you do this like I’ve laid it out for you, you’re going to be able to walk out of here free. That is, so long as you keep your part about the money. I’ll have the confessions, and I’ll execute them when and if you get out of line again. But for the time being, you are going to be as free as a bird.”

Barrett looked at Myers and the older man looked back. Jake Myers said, “I don’t trust you, Marshal, any further than I can throw a wagon load of manure. If we sign those confessions, then you’re going to drag us off to jail.”

Longarm brought his feet to the floor with a thump. He said, “Jake, you don’t know it, but I can drag you off to jail and probably have you in prison inside of three months and maybe get you hung. In fact, I might could just take you outside right now and hang you. I’m offering you a chance. You don’t seem to understand that.”

Myers said, “Well, I ain’t signing no document.”

Longarm nodded his head and made a motion, and once again, the complaining prisoners were taken back to their room without food or water. Hawkins said, “They’re a blamed sight harder and more stubborn than I thought they’d be. Hell, Barrett ain’t had but one meal in about three days. Of course, Jake Myers could live off his fat for some time. But I would imagine that things are beginning to pinch both of them a little. Do you mean what you say about them being free if they sign that document?”

“Yeah, I mean it. As I’ve tried to explain it, I’m just trying to bring some peace to this place. Get things working again.”

It was in the afternoon, about three o’clock, that Rufus spotted scouts roaming through the countryside. He called Longarm over to one of the windows and the marshal looked out. He could see a few riders working the ground between the eastern side and back toward town. They were a good two or three miles from the cabin, but at any time, one or more could present themselves.

At about four o’clock, Longarm had the two men brought back out for what he told them would be the last question of the day. He said, “This is about the last time I’m going to ask you. We’re going to start fixing supper pretty soon, and we’re either going to put your names in the pot now, or they’re not going in at all. The next time you’re going to be asked this question, it’s going to be tomorrow morning, after breakfast, and after another night without any water or any food. So, I’m going to ask you one more time what you’re willing to do. Are you willing to sign these confessions?”

Before they could answer, young Rufus yelled from a front window, “Marshal! Marshal! There’s a big body of men headed straight this way.”

Longarm stood up, but even as he did, Archie Barrett made a bolt for the door. Longarm would have never thought he could have moved so fast as he did after being starved down for several days and deprived of water. He was out the door before anyone could touch him.

Robert Goodman was moving even faster. He was out the door right behind Barrett and within three steps had wrestled him to the ground. By the time Longarm reached the door, Goodman was jerking the struggling rancher back toward the rock house. But the biggest sight was a party of at least two dozen men coming up the slope toward the cabin. They were only some three hundred yards away.

Longarm said quickly, “Throw them back into the room. Get your rifles and get to the windows and let’s start pouring some fire into that bunch before they scatter.”

Chapter 10

At first, they could bring only two rifles to bear on the large, advancing party: Longarm’s and that of young Rufus. Hawkins was firing, too; but as he freely admitted, he would have been better off chucking rocks. Mr. Goodman and Tom Hunter were meanwhile occupied trying to get the struggling prisoners back into their room of confinement. They had been delayed because Jake Myers had tried to escape, as Barrett had, making a run for freedom through the front.

Longarm, firing fast, was able to hit at least three men or their horses, and he could tell that Rufus’s fire was also doing damage. They had forced the men to split up and disperse into a long line. Most of them had quit their horses and were advancing on foot, which made them harder to hit. By the time Robert Goodman and Tom Hunter had taken their positions, Longarm could tell they were in trouble because the long line of gunmen were going to flank the cabin on both sides, and they didn’t have enough firepower to defend from each side.

For a moment or two, he had been concentrating on each end of the line, forcing those that would approach the cabin from the ends to fall back. He had estimated that they had dropped six or seven of the two dozen attackers, but there were still too many of them left to handle. He didn’t know if they were Myers’s men or Barrett’s men or a mixture of both. Neither did Tom Hunter or either of the Goodmans.

Robert Goodman said, “It’s too far, Marshal. I can’t pick out the faces. They’re starting to get to cover behind those little rocky ledges down there. They’re going to make this place get kind of warm.”

The words were no sooner out of his mouth than bullets began to come in through the windows and ricochet off the stone walls. Longarm was firing from a corner near the front door. He said, “Everybody keep down. I’m going to try to keep them the least bit busy here. Tom, you and Mr. Goodman go fetch Barrett and Myers. We’ve got to do something quick before we get drilled three or four times by the same bullet ricocheting around this room. Damn! There’s good things to be said about a stone house, but there’s also some bad things to be said. They’ll keep the bullets out, but if they get in, they’ll damned sure bounce around.”

Firing as fast as he could and reloading his rifle from the cartridges in his shirt pocket, Longarm was able to keep the return rifle fire to a minimum and also keep each end of the advancing line from flanking him. He knew that such tactics weren’t going to last long. Behind him, he heard a sudden cry and looked to his left. Young Rufus Goodman was squatting in the corner. He had his hand pressed to his right shoulder. Longarm could see blood. Longarm said, “Son, are you hurt?”

There was pain on the young man’s face. He said through gritted teeth, “Not so you’d notice. It just got meat, no bone. I’ll be all right.” With that, he stood up and fired three quick shots through the open window and then hunkered back down again.

There were still shells coming through the door and the window and the ones that didn’t bury themselves into the table or a chair bounced at least twice. It made it very dangerous to be standing up in the room. Hawkins was at the right-hand window. He’d pulled a chair over and was sort of wearing it like a turtle back. From time to time, he stood up and blindly fired a shot.

Longarm said, “Quit wasting that ammunition, George. You ain’t hit anything. I don’t think that last shot even hit the world, or at least in this county. Stay down under that chair. We might need you again.”

Longarm fired two quick shots and he saw one man suddenly stand up and fall backward. He calculated that they had depleted the ranks of their attackers by at least seven or eight men.

Just then, Hunter and Robert Goodman came out, prodding Barrett and Myers ahead of them. Tom Hunter said, “Here they are, Marshal.”

Longarm waved frantically. He said, “Get them over here in the door.

Myers said, “You go to hell, Mr. son-of-a-bitch Marshal. Now, you’re going to get yours. You’re going to see what it’s like.”

Longarm said, “Get in this door.”

Barrett said, “We ain’t going to do no such thing.” Just then, two slugs came whining through the left-hand window, struck the far wall, ricocheted off another wall, and then off the back wall and then off the floor and buried themselves in the ceiling. Both slugs passed within a foot of Barrett and Myers.

Longarm gave them a lean smile. He said, “All right, gentlemen. Just stand right where you are and you’re fixing to get hemstitched by about a dozen slugs from your own men.”

Myers suddenly moved, heading for the door. Barrett was right behind him. Longarm stood up, pressing his back against the wooden door. He grabbed each man and turned and stopped them right at the door. He shoved the Winchester into Myers’s back. He said, “Both of you, wave your arms. Start yelling for them to stop firing. Do it right now, or so help me, I’ll blow a hole through your kidney.”

Barrett and Myers both raised their arms and waved and took turns shouting, “Stop shooting! Hold your fire! Stop!”

Gradually, the firing stopped. The silence slowly became total. It sounded eerie inside the cabin where there had been so many explosions and so many twanging sounds from the slugs.

Archie Barrett looked back over his shoulder at Longarm and bared his teeth. He said, “Well now, Marshal. It looks like we’ve got you.”

“You ain’t looked real good, Mr. Barrett. This rifle of mine is pointed straight at you, and you ain’t going anywhere. You try to move, and you will be shot escaping.”

Jake Myers said, “Yeah, but you’re surrounded now, and you ain’t going nowhere.”

Longarm said, “They’re not going to shoot in here, not unless you want to get killed. Tell them to back off two or three hundred yards—they’re way too close. We need to have a talk, us three, so you yell down there, both of you, and tell them to back up.”

Barrett said, “What if we don’t?”

Longarm slapped him on the side of his head with the barrel of his rifle. He said, “If you don’t, it ain’t going to get pleasant. I’m willing for you to stand there in that door for the rest of your life. Now, if you want to talk, tell those men to back off.”

Reluctantly, both men, yelling and pushing with their hands, directed the men that worked for each of them to pull back. Each time they stopped, Longarm would say, “Farther.” Finally, they were a good four or five hundred yards away. He said, “They can sit down now. You two gentlemen can get back in here in this cabin.”

Tom Hunter and Mr. Goodman grabbed Barrett and Myers and jerked them back inside the cabin.

Mr. Goodman said, “What do we do with them? Shove them back in that room?”

Longarm shook his head. “No, we’re pretty near the time for a showdown. Set them down at the table. Either they’re going to sign now or they ain’t ever going to sign. I’ll be right with you.”

Longarm took the time to pour himself a glass of whiskey, very conscious that Barrett and Myers were both watching him, the desire for the whiskey clear in their eyes. He came over to the table and then sat down. He motioned for Tom Hunter to put both the confession and the terms of agreement for the Grit Settlement Association in front of the two men.

He took a slow sip of the whiskey and then took time to light a cigarillo. When he finished doing that, he said, “Now, let’s examine the situation. You think you’ve got me because you’ve got some hired hands out there. What are you paying them? Eighty dollars a month? One hundred dollars a month? One hundred and fifty dollars a month? Probably some of them are kinfolk, but that doesn’t matter. They’ve already seen that over a half dozen of their number have been killed, along with the number that I’ve killed on my own. You ain’t going to buy a man’s life for what you’re paying them. Pretty soon, they’re going to get tired of watching this rock cabin and waiting to see what we’re going to do. I know one thing that you’re not going to do, and that is walk out of here until you sign these documents. Now, my deal is real simple. You sign this confession and you keep the peace. and I give you my word that that’ll be the end of it. You sign it and break the peace, and I’ll give you my word that I’ll cover you up with marshals and United States calvary and anything else it takes to hang you from the nearest tree. You break even one part of this settlement agreement, and you’ll rue the day. Sign it, keep the peace, and walk free. Don’t sign it, and there’s a damned good chance of getting killed while I take you to prison. You’ve got two places you’re going if you don’t sign these papers, and that’s to the funeral parlor or to a federal prison. You can make up your mind, either way.”

Barrett still wanted to bluster. “Yeah, but you’ll never get out of here alive. None of you.”

Longarm smiled. He said, “You want to bet your life on that?”

Suddenly, Jake Myers caved in. He heaved a big sigh. He said, “Is this all you want? We sign these and we’re free?”

“If you keep your word.”

Barrett said, “Yeah, but will you keep yours with that confession?”

Longarm said, “Mr. Barrett, you haven’t known me long enough for me to take offense to that statement. Otherwise, I’d knock you out of that chair. If I tell you I’ll keep my word, you can believe it. If I tell you a jackrabbit can pull a freight train, you might as well go ahead and hook it up because the jackrabbit can. I’ve made it all clear to you. Are y’all a little thick-headed or what? So, here’s the papers. Sign them or not. You’ve got one minute.”

Jake Myers looked at Barrett and shrugged. He said, “I don’t see where we got a choice. If we don’t sign the confession, he’s going to make up evidence, anyway. We can’t go on doing business with him making a mess of things here. What good’s the confession, anyway? We’ve got lawyers. If he tries to use it, we can give him a hell of a fight. But I can’t take much more of this kind of living. I’m too old for it.” He reached for the pen, dipped it in the ink, and signed it Jake L. Myers.

Barrett thought for a moment and then he took the pen from Myers’s hand and signed the confession just under the signature of the other man. Longarm took the pen from him and dipped it back into the ink and then held it out for Tom Hunter. He said, “Each of you sign as witnesses.”

One by one, they wrote their signatures. Longarm finished the confession by writing:

Given into my hand this 16th day of May, willingly, by Archie Barrett and Jake Myers and witnessed by the above.

Then he took the confession, folded it carefully once he was sure the ink was dry, and buttoned it into his shirt pocket. After that, he put the agreement for the Settlement Association in front of the two men. He said, “Now this.”

Mr. Myers looked annoyed. He said, “Hell, that’s a lot of money. Fifty thousand dollars.”

Longarm looked over at Tom Hunter. He said, “Tom, how much money do you reckon these settlers have been robbed of by these two scoundrels?”

Tom Hunter shrugged. He said, “I couldn’t count it, but it’s a hell of a lot more than fifty thousand dollars apiece. Besides, how do you put a price on a cabin that a man built with his own hand and how do you put a price on a man’s life? How do you put a price on how a wife feels when she loses a husband? Or the children?”

Longarm held the pen out to Jake Myers. He said, “Sign it.”

Myers sighed, dipped the pen, and wrote his name and handed the pen to Archie Barrett. Barrett didn’t even hesitate. In a tired hand, he scrawled his name.

Once again, Longarm had each of the men present, including Hawkins, witness the document, and as before, he wrote at the bottom that he, as an official of the United States government, had received the document into his hand at such a time and on such a date.

Archie Barrett looked up at him. He said, “Now, is that it?”

“Not quite.” Longarm shook his head.

Barrett said, “I ain’t doing another damned thing until I get some food and some whiskey.”

“Your job ain’t done yet, Barrett,” Longarm said. “Remember, you’ve got to get fifty thousand dollars over to a bank in Junction. Did you bring your checkbook with you?”

Barrett looked furious. “Whether I’ve got my checkbook with me is none of your affair.”

Hawkins said, “Oh, he’s got his checkbook, all right, Marshal. I saw him special put it in his pocket, thinking he could buy that saddle of that assassinated president of Mexico. Yeah, he’s got it. I bet if you go in there and look in his jacket, you’d find it.”

Barrett looked livid. “You better not touch my personal belongings! As it happens, I do have a checkbook, but it’s not on an account that I’ve got that kind of money in.”

“Then you both better send to your headquarters, and you both better get a check, because you ain’t getting out of here until an account gets open in Junction with one hundred thousand dollars in it. Now, is that clear? And you ain’t going to get a bite to eat or a drop to drink until I see those checks on the way. You comprende, hombres?”

Jake Myers was looking more and more tired. He said, “How are we supposed to get our drafts-“

Longarm interrupted. He said, “I suggest you send one of your men back to each of your places and have him locate wherever you keep your checkbook and have him get on back here. That’s the fastest way, as far as I’m concerned.”

They both shrugged. Jake Myers said, “Why not?” He turned around in his chair and looked out the door. “I think my son James is out there. If he is, one of you call for him.”

Longarm looked at Barrett. He said, “What about you?”

“Any of my men will do. I know that neither one of my brothers are out there, but they can give him the checkbook. Just call for one of my men.”

“I think you had better do that,” Longarm said. “Stand there in the door in case anybody’s got an itchy trigger finger. Call for James Myers and for whoever you want.”

Barrett stood up. He said to the marshal, “You think you’ve won, but you might yet regret this.”

Longarm smiled. “Oh, I generally regret everything I do. But the funny thing about it is that the other fellow usually regrets it more. Now, get busy.”

Within half an hour, two men had been dispatched to both ranches to fetch back the checkbooks. Archie Barrett said, “Now, I want some food and a drink of whiskey.”

Longarm said, “There’s only one last thing, Mr. Barrett, and I’m sure you won’t mind doing this since it’s for your own good.” He turned to Tom Hunter. “Tom, would you give me two more pieces of paper?”

While he was waiting for the paper, he turned to George Hawkins and said, “Mr. Hawkins, what’s one of your top saddles?”

Hawkins thought for a moment. “Well, I reckon that would be the Cheyenne model. It’s a double girthed, deep seated saddle with a high roping pommel. Comes with a matching breastplate.”

“What does it sell for?”

“We generally sell it, shipping charges included, for around one hundred and forty-five dollars.”

“Good.” Longarm took the two pieces of paper and wrote out an order for ten saddles to be bought by Mr. Myers and ten saddles to be bought by Mr. Barrett. He handed Mr. Myers the pen and said, “You just bought ten saddles. My deputy has been put to some considerable trouble on your account, and I think he ought to be compensated.”

Myers looked up at him with rage in his eyes that slowly dissolved to resignation. He signed the order and then shoved it away from him. In a moment, Archie Barrett did the same. Longarm took the two orders and turned around and handed them to George Hawkins, who cackled in glee.

Longarm said, “See, you tell me that the law business don’t pay? Why sure and you’ll get your two dollars a day on top of that.”

Hawkins said, “Well, you never did explain it to me that way before. If you had explained it before, I would have just volunteered.”

“Volunteered? You wouldn’t have volunteered, George, if I had thrown in a velvet easy chair to go with it.”

An hour later, Tom Hunter and the two Goodmans were riding for Junction with the two checks in hand. Longarm’s instructions to them had been simple. There would be three people who would sign each check: Tom Hunter, Robert Goodman, and Mrs. Thompson. Before they had left, he had promised Myers and Barrett what would happen to them if there was any problem with the checks. He said, “You don’t want to find out, that I promise you.”

But all that was over now, and the Settlement Association was well on its way to being a working institution. Longarm said to Jake Myers and Archie Barrett, “Now, all right. Get your gear, get your clothes, and get anything else you’ve left here, including your stink, and get the hell out of here. Take those men down the hill with you. And you better hope that I don’t see either one of you again, because if I do, it’s going to be for the purpose of killing you. Understand me?”

Neither man would look at him. Myers never had gotten any food, and Longarm had said, “You certainly ain’t going to get any of my whiskey. I barely will allow close friends to share that. You can imagine just how much chance you’ve got.”

Now there was no one left but Longarm and Hawkins. Together, they gathered up their gear and walked across the floor that was littered with brass cartridge cases. They went out, saddled their horses, and started the slow ride to town.

Hawkins said, as they started down the hill, “You know, Longarm, sometimes the leather business gets a little dull. It kind of does a man good to get some excitement in his life every once in a while.”

“George, what do you think Mrs. Thompson is going to think about all this?”

“I think she’ll be right pleased. If we hurry along, we should get there in time for supper, and you can tell her all about it.”

Longarm said, “We’ll both tell her about it. You had a big hand in this, George. I’m going to see to it that you get a medal and two dollars a day.”

“How many days I got coming?”

“Oh, three.”

Hawkins shook his head. “Six whole dollars. I don’t have any idea what I’ll do with that kind of money.”

Longarm said, “You could lose it to me playing poker.”

“No, it’s too hard. It’s hard to lose to you, Marshal.”

Longarm gave him an eye. He said, “You’re liable to talk yourself into losing a little more than six dollars if you’re not careful.”

Hawkins was silent for a time. Then, as they neared town, he said, “You know, Marshal, that was about the slickest way out of that mess I could have imagined. How did you ever think of a way to do that so that it would kind of make the best out of a bad situation?”

Longarm laughed slightly. He said, “George, it wasn’t so much that I thought that up. It was just that I couldn’t think of anything else. It happened by kind of a process of elimination, you might say.”

“Well, it worked out for the best. You reckon they’ll keep to their end of the bargain?”

Longarm looked at him and said grimly, “I know I will. If they make one little slip, they’re going to wish they had never been born.”

Chapter 11

It took several more days to see to the setting up of the Grit Settlement Association. Word spread like wildfire, and the town was soon thronged with people who had been struggling on small farms and ranches. They clogged and crowded Mrs. Thompson’s boardinghouse until rules had to be established. Longarm presided over the rule-making and the installation of the officers. After that, it was out of his hands. The board consisted of Robert Goodman, Tom Hunter, and Mrs. Thompson, with Mrs. Thompson serving as president of the board. It was a bold move for a woman to have the deciding vote, but it seemed only fitting in view of what her husband had attempted. In many ways, the Grit Settlement Association was framed and formed on his ideas. During this time, Hawkins reluctantly took his leave. Longarm wrote him a letter stating that he had served honorably for a week as an auxiliary deputy United States marshal and that George Hawkins was entitled to all emoluments and courtesies due that rank.

Hawkins looked at the paper. He said, “What’s an emolument?”

Longarm shook his head. “I don’t know, but they always put that word in them kind of documents. As far as I know, it means you get the cream with the milk. But if you ever do run across an emolument, I wish you’d get in touch with me and let me know.”

They shook hands, and Hawkins departed. Longarm doubted that he would ever see the man again, but then that was the way with so much of his work. He met people and became so close to them under the intense pressure and danger of situations, and then it was all over with and everyone went their own way. Just as he now was anxiously looking forward to finishing up and leaving Grit and leaving Texas and getting back home to Denver.

His work was finally done and he would be going the next day. That night, he sat in his room on the side of his bed, thinking and having one last drink and smoking a cigarillo. He thought about Billy Vail and what he had told him about the circus. Well, he had been right. This was the damnedest bunch of lions and tigers he had ever seen. He hadn’t been sure how he was going to tame them without a whip and a chair.

Since he was fixing to go to bed, he wasn’t wearing any clothes. He had the lamp trimmed down low because it was just before he was to extinguish it. Longarm guessed it was going on midnight. He would pick up his train the next day somewhere around noon, so there was no rush. As long as he was out of Grit by nine o’clock, he’d have plenty of time to catch the little rattle-banger that ran between Junction and Brady.

As he was sitting there thinking back over the past time and all that had happened, there came a very light tap at his door. Without thinking, he said, “Come in.”

The door opened slowly and Mrs. Thompson came softly into the room. Longarm was so startled, he almost stood up. She was wearing a pale pink nightgown of very sheer material. He could see that she had fixed her hair and put on some rouge and touched up her lips and eyes. It was clearly obvious what she had come for.

He made no attempt to hide his nakedness. He said, “Mrs. Thompson, are you sure about this?”

She moved toward him, holding out her hand to touch his face as she did. She said, “Yes. Very sure. I’ve held myself alone and without long enough.”

Longarm said, “I know you set a great deal of store by your husband.”

“Yes,” she said, “and I still do. But this is different. You did a wonderful thing here. What you did for these people, the help you gave them, the peace that you brought back to this area, the prosperity.”

Longarm said, his voice going husky, “Well, I don’t need any thanks, ma’am. It’s my job.”

“This is not thanks. This is what I want to do, that is, if you want to.”

“Oh, ma’am. Yes, I want to very much. I’m just surprised, that’s all. You’ve kind of taken me off guard.”

She said, “Let me get in the bed.”

Longarm scooted back on the bed to make room for her, but before she moved forward, she lifted her nightgown over her head and then stood there for a moment. The sight made the breath catch in Longarm’s throat. She was not some young shapely girl who, in spite of her looks, had not had the experience that radiated from Mrs. Thompson’s mature body. There was a fullness about it, a voluptuousness and experience that could only come with maturity. Her breasts were full and round. They hung a little, but then they had been used. Her hips were wider than they would have been ten years before, and her belly was rounder, but the way the lamplight glanced off the sheen of her skin and the high points of her body caused Longarm’s breath to come faster and faster. He fastened his eyes on the vee of black, rich pubic hair that was almost at the level of his eyes. He let his gaze travel up to her breasts, to her face, and then to her hair. He held out his hand. She reached and took it, and he pulled her to him. They came slowly together.

For half an hour, they made slow, preparatory, teasing, flattering love play. Then, when she was ready, Longarm brought her to climax with finger and tongue and penis. He held her while she shuddered and screamed softly into his neck. She had her legs locked around his hips and with strong pulls, she drove him deeper into herself. In three or four rhythmic plunges, he erupted and filled her with semen in a long, slow, star-bursting cascade of tingling satisfaction. When it was over, he collapsed on her for a moment and then rolled to the side and lay next to her.

Neither one of them spoke for a few long moments. Finally she said, “Well, first Milton ruins me for other men, and now you come along. What am I supposed to do?”

Longarm said, “Just judging from what I’ve seen of him, Robert Goodman appears to be a good man.” He realized what he had said and then laughed. “I guess he would have to be a good man, wouldn’t he?”

“I’ve been watching him. He’s interesting, he’s steady, he’s not too imaginative, but I think I could always depend on him.”

Longarm said, “I think so. I think he’s the kind of man who would wear well, like Tom Hunter.”

She turned her head toward him. “Or like you?”

He shook his head. “No, ma’am. I’m not here for the long haul. It just ain’t in the cards for me.”

“You could never marry?”

Longarm said, “I don’t see how. It would be unfair to both parties. It would be unfair to the woman because I’d be gone all the time, and it would be unfair to me because I might be thinking of her at the wrong time and be just that fraction of a second too slow. No, ma’am, I’m here to do a job and then I’ll go someplace else to do a job.” He turned and propped his head on his elbow. “But I won’t soon forget this night. Ma’am, you’re a wonderful, lovely woman. You give a man great pleasure. I’d say that if I wanted or if I had to choose one woman to sleep with for the rest of my life, your name would be well up near the top of the list.”

She smiled in the dim glow of the lantern. She said, “And I’m sure that’s quite a list. But I am complimented and I thank you for everything that you did. You’re leaving in the morning?”

Longarm nodded. “Yep, I’ll probably be out of here around nine.”

“Tomorrow, I’ll be Mrs. Thompson, the landlady of the boardinghouse, so I’ll only bid you good-bye like that. But I’d still like to give you a real good-bye tonight.” She reached out her arms and drew his head slowly toward her lips. He went willingly.

Longarm was less than two hours out of Denver and thoroughly tired of train travel, but he felt a great sense of satisfaction with the job he had just done. It had been an unusual job, much different than his ordinary line of work. He had left two criminals in place, but he had made the judgment, and he still felt it was the right one. If they went wrong on him, then he was going to come down on them like a ton of bricks. He thought he had taken the law and applied it to the best interests of the most people.

He stretched and yawned and took a nip out of the bottle of whiskey he had on the seat beside him. It was going to be good to get home, even if Billy Vail was going to be there and would be trying to get him out of town as soon as possible. His mind turned for a moment to Mrs. Thompson, but then he turned it away. Women like Mrs. Thompson weren’t for him. Her kind didn’t come along very often. She was best left as a wonderful memory.

Longarm yawned again and wondered if the young lady named Betty Shaw would still be in town when he got home. If she was, maybe she’d help him wash the trail dust off himself. But if not her, then maybe the dressmaker lady. All in all, it had been a good job, and he felt content.