Longarm and the Dead Man's Reward

Asher looked at him. “Ross Henderson. His life hangs on your willingness to do this.”

Longarm had been about to light another cheroot. He stopped and lowered the match he was holding. He took the little cigar out from between his lips. He looked slowly at the three brothers. “Ross Henderson. Where is he?”

Asher Nelson said, “We have him.”

“In what condition?”

“He’s fine. He’s being well taken care of, but his life hangs in the balance with your decision. If you go through this contest, if you give us the chase that we expect, he’ll go free.”

Longarm looked at Asher Nelson steadily for a moment. “Bullshit. I don’t believe you. If you have Ross Henderson, how come you didn’t play this game with him?”

Asher Nelson said, “Because he’s not you, Marshal Long. He’s not the famous Longarm. He’s a young, inexperienced lawman who would be easy meat, but it was very convenient for us that he showed up here. He gave us a hostage, more bait to draw you in.”

Longarm said, “I want to see him right now. I think you’re lying.”

Asher Nelson stood up. “All right. You can see him, but you can’t talk to him. Is that understood?”

“Why can’t I talk to him?”

“Because there is nothing to be gained by you two exchanging information. I will simply show him to you and show you that he is in good health and that he has not been harmed, and that will be it. Do you want to do that? That is the best I will offer.”

Longarm said, “I don’t seem to have much choice here, do I?”

“No, you don’t.”

There was a level to the house that was below the floor they were on. It was not exactly a cellar because it contained some rooms that were used for cooling meats and vegetables and some rooms where grain and such were stored. On that lower level there was a small room with a heavy door on it. Asher stepped forward and unlocked it while Claude and Frank held Longarm a good distance from the door with the threat of their pistols. Asher swung the door open. He said to Longarm, “Now, just stand there and don’t speak.” He looked into the room. “Deputy Henderson, would you step out please?”

In a moment, the young, blond innocent-looking deputy that Longarm had first met in Denver came into the light of the hall. He was blinking from the dimness of the room.

Asher Nelson said, “Do you see him? Do you recognize him? Do you see that he’s not hurt? Just nod your head if you do.”

Ross Henderson was still in a daze. He was looking around, his eyes trying to focus. He said, “What the hell is going on here?”

Asher Nelson looked at Longarm. He said, “Well?”

Longarm nodded. He said, “Nelson, you sonofabitch, if anything happens to that kid, I don’t know how but I’ll get you for it.”

Nelson put out a hand and guided Henderson back into the small room. Then he shut and locked the door before they escorted Longarm back up the stairs and back into the sitting room.

Longarm sat on the couch, the picture of the confused young man clear in his mind. He looked at Asher Nelson and said harshly, “What the fuck have you been doing to him? Giving him some of that same sleeping powder you gave me?

He didn’t look like he knew where he was.”

“Marshal, you’ll have to believe me, we’re not cruel men. The young deputy has been given good food and whiskey when he wanted it. Unfortunately, he’s been kept in alone and that will work on a man’s mind. I know. Sometimes we were alone out there on that African plains for days and weeks and months. He’s confused, that’s all.”

Longarm said, “All right. Lay out your deal and I’ll see if I’ll play.”

Chapter 7

Asher Nelson said, “It’s fairly simple, Marshal Long. At four o’clock this afternoon, we’ll turn you loose. You can go in any direction you want to go in. You’ll be on foot, of course. We’ll furnish you with some leather sandals since I don’t believe you’ll want to be in those leather boots. You will have a three-hour lead time. At seven o’clock, Brother Claude will start out after you. He will be carrying only his .38-caliber revolver.”

“How long of a barrel?”

Asher Nelson smiled faintly. “Nothing like dealing with a professional. A nine-inch barrel, Marshal.”

Longarm thought a second. He said, “With that caliber, a good shot—and I’ve got to figure you’re all three damned good shots—he can hit me at forty yards, and all I’ve got is a long knife that ain’t going to do me a hell of a lot of good at forty yards. Go on, what’s the rest of it.”

“He’ll have no extra ammunition. He will attempt to kill you. If he succeeds, it’s all over with. If he doesn’t, then at three o’clock in the morning, Frank will start out mounted.”

Longarm said, “Wait a minute. You’ll make up whatever distance I can cover in nothing flat.”

Asher Nelson shook his head. “No. Because Frank has a heart condition, he’ll be led on horseback for a mile or two to wherever he thinks you’ve gone. But Claude will be on foot from the very beginning and so will I. None of us will know which direction you’ve gone. We’ll have to pick up your trail from wherever you leave it around the house leading in whatever direction you take. We’re going to track you fairly and squarely.”

Longarm said, “Yeah, with a damned gun in your hand.”

Asher looked at him. He said, “Marshal, you don’t have to do this. You have a choice. But you do understand that we cannot release you under any circumstances and if we don’t release you, then we certainly cannot release young Ross Henderson.”

Longarm laughed bitterly. “I really like the chances you’re giving me, gentlemen. Some selections. Why four o’clock?”

“Because I don’t think it would be fair to put You out in the heat of the day. Plus, I don’t think it would be entirely fair to us for you to start out at night. At seven, when Claude starts, he will have perhaps an hour, an hour and a half to pick up your trail. If he doesn’t do it, that’s hard cheese. The moon is full tonight, so Frank will have a good hunting moon. When his eight hours are up at eleven tomorrow morning, then it will be my turn. If you haven’t been killed, I will hunt you through the heat of the day, on foot and with the same amount of water that you have.”

Longarm looked at Asher Nelson with loathing. He said, “You’re a hell of a sport, Asher. You better pray I don’t live through this.”

Asher Nelson smiled. “It’s our intention that you don’t.”

“So that’s the game. My question is: What do I win?”

Asher shrugged. “If you succeed in killing us or you succeed in going the twenty-four hours without being killed, then you are free to go.”

Longarm gave him a look. “Just like that? You’re going to turn me loose?”

Asher nodded. “Yes.”

Longarm laughed. “Pull my other leg. What you’ll have just done is attempted murder of a United States deputy marshal. I don’t think you can afford to turn me loose.”

“Ah, but you won’t go to the authorities because we’ll still have young Deputy Henderson.”

Longarm’s eyes flared. “Well, if you’re going to keep him, then what in the hell am I going through this for?”

Asher Nelson said, “We won’t keep him long. Only long enough to get us out of this country. We’ll release him in some foreign port—that is, if you keep your mouth shut. We’re tired of this place, we’re tired of this life. We are ready to go someplace else and seek new adventures. We have enough money, I assure you, that we can buy ourselves into anywhere. We’ll take the young deputy with us and when we are safe, then we’ll send him home to you. Can anything be fairer than that?”

Longarm looked at him. He said, biting off each word, “Yeah, for you to have never started this insane business in the first place. You’re a madman, Nelson. You’re as crazy as hell. I think what would be fair would be for you to be gut-shot, lying on your back, out in that sun, staring up at the sky, wondering why you were getting off so easy. You think you can play with folks’ lives, but it don’t work that way, Asher. Right now, you boys are holding the best hand, but we ain’t counted the money yet. Let’s see what happens when that time comes.”

Longarm leaned over to pour himself some more brandy. Claude said mildly, “Marshal, you’re going to be out in this heat for a few hours at the very least. Do you think that it’s wise to drink that much alcohol?”

Longarm nearly burst out laughing. “Oh, you want me at my best, is that it? Well, if you really want a fair game, why don’t you give me a six-gun and a Winchester and you can take any of those high-powered rifles you want to and let’s see who wins.”

Claude grinned, not a particularly pretty sight. He said, “Marshal, we ain’t under no illusions of who you are or how tough you are. We are making this game as fair as we can. You are a dangerous animal and none of us are going after you with just a whip and a chair. You’re well armed enough just with your hands and your feet and your brain. We don’t believe you need a rifle or a six-shooter. We believe a machete should be more than adequate to make a fair game.”

Longarm looked at Asher. “You’re making some big promises here. If you kill me, you’re going to leave here, take young Henderson, and turn him loose in a port somewhere—South America, I guess. I don’t know. If I get back alive by seven o’clock tomorrow evening, you’re going to release me and take young Henderson with you in the same way. What assurance do I have that you’re going to do that? I know that you’re going to say that I have your word. Well, gentlemen, you might make a wild guess about what I think of your word.”

Asher Nelson nodded. “You have every reason to think that, Marshal, since we tricked you into coming here. But I assure you that, as sportsmen and as men of adventure, we will abide by the covenant of this adventure. We will keep our word to the letter.”

Longarm yawned. “It really doesn’t seem to make much difference, does it? I’ve got a pretty fair idea that I’m not going to care much what happens. I reckon it won’t be too long before I’ll be belly up with a high-powered slug through me.”

Asher shrugged. “I’ve told you what weapons we’ll carry. You can make your own choice about whether you choose to believe us or not.”

Longarm said, “What time is it getting to be? You’ve got my watch.”

Asher Nelson said, “It’s almost three.”

“Do I get my watch back? At least, I’d like to know how many hours I’ve gone and how many I have to go.”

“Of course,” Asher said. “Claude, give him his watch back.”

“How about my pocket knife?”

The men glanced at each other, and then Asher shook his head. He said, “No, nor that cunningly concealed little derringer of yours either. Just the machete, your pants, shirt, your hat, a pair of leather sandals, a canteen, and some food. What do you want in the way of food? Sliced beef and bread?

Cheese? I’d travel as light as I could, Marshal, but you will need some sustenance.”

Longarm said, “Then just beef and bread.”

It was a quick hour. At ten minutes until four, Longarm was standing in the doorway leading out onto the porch. A machete, shining and new, had been placed there for him. He was wearing the kind of thonged leather sandals that the workers around the place wore, and had on his own shirt, his own pants, his hat, and his watch. He also had a cloth sack, containing some beef and biscuits, with a string on it so he could carry it around his neck. They had given him a two-gallon canteen of water, but he had decided that it was too heavy, and he drank off a quart of it before slinging it over his shoulder. All three brothers were standing behind him in the hall. Asher had his watch out. He said, “We give you our word that we will seat ourselves, Marshal Long, so that we cannot see which direction you go.”

Longarm said, “That’s damned big of you, Asher. Seeing as there is damned little to choose from. This country’s flatter than my first girlfriend’s chest. Where is a man going to hide?”

Claude said, “Oh, it’s a good deal more cut up than you can imagine.”

Longarm had been going from window to window inside the house, looking out at the terrain. To the east, he had seen some buttes and some small rocky hills. There was very little to the south, though from the way the country lay, he thought there might be some ravines and some draws and some washouts. There was little to the West to recommend it, except some thickets of stunted post oak and some small pinyon pine.

They had not allowed him to go outside, so he had done his best by prowling, first the ground floor and then the second floor, looking out what windows he could. They had followed him, but had made no comment or recommendations. The whole time, they had stayed a respectable distance away from him, their guns at the ready. He knew that it would have been hopeless to try to jump any of them. His heart ached for the loneliness of the young man in the small room. He figured Ross Henderson was scared and confused and not at all certain of what his fate might be.

Asher Nelson said, “Are you about ready, Marshal? It’s three minutes until four.”

Longarm said, “It’s still pretty damned hot out there. Why don’t I leave at five and ya’ll not follow until eight.”

Asher Nelson laughed slightly. “Because it’s almost dark by eight o’clock, Marshal, and we would like to have a little daylight. You would grant us at least that extra hour of daylight to at least pick up your trail. It’s not going to be easy as it is, and we’ll be on foot too. Take that into account.”

Longarm looked around at him. He said, “And if you’re not on foot, what can I do about it? And if you’re carrying one of those high-powered rifles, what can I do about it? Nothing.”

Asher Nelson said, seriously, “Marshal, if we simply wanted to kill you, we would have already killed you. We want a contest. We want you to have every chance of winning this contest, but there’s no thrill in it for us if there’s no danger. We think you’re a very dangerous man even with that machete against three pistols. You must understand, we only care for you as a trophy if you are worthy.”

Longarm turned and looked at him. His eyes went hard. He said, “Yeah, a trophy. You lose my badge and you’re going to be a trophy. I’ll take your scalp.”

A couple of hours before, they had taken him down into the trophy room. There he had seen the heads of lions and tigers and various pronged and antlered animals mounted on the wall. He had identified the big black cattle with the funny horns that he’d seen out in the pasture as caped buffalo. He had walked slowly around the room until he had come to a walnut mounting that was empty. At the bottom had been a brass plaque that said: “United States Deputy Marshal Custis “Longarm’ Long.” His blood had run cold. He’d looked at the three brothers. They’d been smiling faintly.

He’d said, “You sonofabitches planning on cutting my head off and sticking it up there? Who’s going to do your taxidermy work for you? The undertaker?”

For answer, Asher Nelson had reached into his pocket and taken out the badge that they had taken from him that morning. Asher had said, “No, your badge will do.”

For the first time, the real, evil intent of the brothers had made its full impact on him. They were not only crazy, they were skillfully crazy, and they were rich on top of that.

Now, he stood at the door, ready to go, ready to pit himself against them. He said, “I mean it, Asher. Don’t lose that badge.”

Asher Nelson said, “The badge is what we will hang on your trophy mount—not your head, of course. I’m not going to lose that badge. If you win, it will be returned to YOU.”

Longarm said, “You are the three most bloodthirsty sonofabitches I’ve ever met and I’ve known some bad ones.”

“It’s four o’clock, Marshal. You’re on your own time now.”

Without another word, the three brothers turned and walked back toward the interior of the house.

Longarm went swiftly through the door, picked up the machete, went down the steps, and started west. Since there was nothing in that direction except some stunted trees, he thought he would give them the impression that he was headed in that direction.

He walked bent over below the level of the big windows on the north side of the house. He planned to lose himself amidst the maze of the small buildings and barns that lay to the west of the house. Here and there he could see a field worker or one of the vaqueros around the stock, but most of them had been disbursed from anywhere near the house on his insistence. As he walked, he glanced backwards to see if he could see a face in a door or a window.

He was walking over dusty ground now, having left the vicinity of the yard, and was making his way toward the first of the big barns. He wanted to use them to block any sight of him as he headed west. As he looked back, he noticed something peculiar about the tracks he was leaving in the dust. It wasn’t anything big, just a tiny difference that bothered him. He went on perhaps another ten yards, and was almost to the first of the big barns when he stopped and looked back again. He had just passed over a particularly smooth stretch of sandy dirt where his sandals had sunk in. He stood stock still and bent down and looked back. There was a tiny notch on the heel of his right sandal. As carefully as he could, balancing himself on his left foot, he lifted his leg up and turned his sandal sole up. There, very carefully and cleverly cut, he could see where someone had taken a small notch out of the part of the sandal just beneath his right heel. It was a dead giveaway. With all the sandal tracks around the ranch, his would have been hard to pick out had his sandals not been carefully marked. He smiled quietly to himself. These boys weren’t missing a trick, he thought.

He went on as if he hadn’t noticed anything. He passed by the front of the first barn and paused to look in. There was nothing there except some tools and bales of hay. The next building was a small shed that held harness and ropes and various other paraphernalia for handling stock. Over in the corner, he saw several pairs of sandals. The trick was to get one of them without making his own tracks into the building. He found a rake leaning up against the side of the building and, walking just on his toes, was able to snare three separate sandals. He pulled them over to him. Two of them were right-footed. One of the right-footed sandals was too small. The other was just about the right size, except it was a little broad. After that, Longarm very carefully smoothed the dirt with the other side of the rake before leaning it back in its place and continued on his way west, carrying the sandal he had stolen and leaving the telltale notched shoe print that the brothers would be counting on.

He passed the last of the outbuildings, being careful to keep them between himself and the house. He had come, he reckoned, about a mile and a half. He was trotting now, hurrying as fast as he could. It was hard going. Most of his life had been spent on horseback and he was not a good walker, much less a runner. But that all had to change now. Too much was at stake. He was still in loose sand country. Leaving an obvious trail. He badly needed a hard surface that would allow him to go undetected for at least a hundred or so yards.

Finally, as his breath was beginning to give out, he hit a rock flat. He stepped up on the first of the ledges and then began walking carefully, being certain not to leave any sign of his passing. Ahead, he could see the limestone rock extending for at least a hundred yards, maybe further. His hope was to give the impression that he had headed west. He himself wanted to cut south where he thought there was some low country, some gullies or ditches or washouts. He wanted a view of the house by seven o’clock to see which way Claude went when he left, to see which way he would choose to hunt him. He thought they would expect him to head straight for the buttes and the little hills since that was the best country for him to defend. He figured they would think he would head west in order to turn back and head toward the east. He intended for them to have that impression, but it was not exactly the way he was going to do it.

He walked approximately two hundred yards on the rocks, leaving no tracks. When he was sure he had arrived at a place where he couldn’t be trailed, he backed up on the rocks and then, still wearing the notched sandal, headed off toward the northeast, as if he was headed for the top end of the buttes, heading far enough north that he could find a rise or a piece of low ground where he could sneak past the house and get into the forward reaches of the buttes. He went a couple, three hundred yards in that direction in his notched sandal until he found some grassy prairie. After that, he went on a little further before he sat down and exchanged his right sandal for one he had gotten out of the harness shed. From there, he turned back, heading south, staying well away from his own previous track. Now, anyone pursuing him would just see one of the print tracks of one of the workers around the ranch. There would be no giveaway notch in the right heel.

Now, he walked as rapidly as he could to the south. He knew that he was out of sight of the house, unless they were watching him with a telescope, which they had promised they wouldn’t. But nevertheless, he took advantage of every bit of low ground that he could find so that at the most, all he ever saw was the top of the roof of the big house.

As he ran, he got out his watch and looked at it. He was startled to see that it was closing in on five-thirty. A feeling of panic tugged at his chest. He had wasted more time than he had thought. He didn’t know if there was going to be time for the quickly devised plan he had pieced together.

But fortunately, some three and a half miles south of the big house, he found a pretty sharply cut ravine that wandered toward the east for what he considered a considerable distance. He followed it about a mile and a half until it broke up into a little series of arroyos. He picked the biggest one of these, and kept in it until he was east of the house but with a good view of it. He figured it was about a mile and a half away. The sun was starting to go down, but he still thought he’d see Claude when he came out and could see which direction he would go. He was willing to bet dollars to doughnuts that Claude would head west following his telltale sandal, then cut up north along the path that he, Longarm, had left, and then guess when the trail petered out that Longarm was headed toward the buttes to the northeast. At least, that was what had to happen if he, Longarm, was going to have a chance.

He ducked his head down and kept hurrying east along the little cuts and draws and arroyos. It was rough going, especially when he had to run bent over. He knew there wasn’t a moment to lose. He had to be in position when the first man, Claude, came looking for him.

He was gasping by now, but the thought of his badge mounted on the wall in the Nelsons’ trophy room drove him on with renewed energy. He knew he was playing in a game where the cards were stacked against him worse than any other time in his life. He had been suckered in. Not only had he allowed himself to be taken in, he hadn’t protected a fellow officer who was too young to have been entrusted with what was really his, Longarm’s, work.

He could tell from the way the sun slowed that dusk was going to hold for sometime. It did that in the desert. The sun seemed to just sit there, the bottom on the horizon and the top blazing across the hot desert. Finally, he had worked his way until he was opposite a string of little rocky ridges and buttes and little hills. It would be open ground between the hills and the ditch he’d finally crawled into, but he reckoned it was too far from the house for them to see him. He stopped to take a drink of water and to eat some of the beef and biscuits, and then he crawled out of the ditch and using what cover he could, made for the first of the rocky outcroppings. It stood some five or six feet high. The next one was higher, and the one after that was higher still. It culminated in a butte about twenty or thirty feet high, all rock, with cactus and greasewood growing out of the cracks. As he slithered through the tall grass like a lizard, he paused to look at his watch. He made it out to be five minutes until seven. Claude would be starting soon.

He got to the first of the rocky ridges and stared back toward the house. It was a long view, but he could make out a few dots working behind the house, the servants and the field hands. If he could see them, he reckoned he would be able to see Claude Nelson. Now he could move more freely since the outcroppings and the ridges blocked him off from the house. He moved on up to the next ridge and then the next, and then on to the bigger one in the middle. It was shaped somewhat like a horseshoe, and the top was about ten or twelve feet higher up. He clambered up from the outside, going slowly and carefully. It was covered with little cubbyholes and small caves. The thought of a rattlesnake or a Gila monster made his blood run cold. Longarm had never cared for things that slithered or crawled, but he had no choice but to keep pressing his body against the rock and working his way slowly to the top.

The outcropping was short of horseshoe-shaped. He arrived at the rounded top and could look back through the opening toward the house. In some places the outcropping was ten or twelve feet wide. He crawled across the top until he was behind a boulder where he could see straight down to the ground below him. The other leg of the horseshoe was not quite as high. He needed to give Claude Nelson some reason to enter the trap of the horseshoe-shaped rock formation. The shape of the horseshoe was skewed to the left, south with reference to the house. That meant that Longarm could sneak around to the south and enter the opening without fear of being seen by anyone in the house or by Claude, if he had turned to the east yet. Longarm took a moment to take a long, careful look. As he studied the front of the house, he saw a figure emerge, stand out in front for a moment, apparently searching the ground, and then begin walking away toward the west. Longarm looked at his watch. It was three minutes after seven. So far, they were keeping their word about the rules. But of course, the rules hadn’t said anything about a marked sandal. He took a moment more to watch as Claude Nelson proceeded on west, almost exactly as Longarm had gone, heading toward the big barn.

As quickly as he could, Longarm eased himself down the side of the rock, and then skirted along its southern border until he could slip carefully into the opening. Once there, he made his way to the northern side of the Outcropping without leaving any sign. It was about fifty or sixty yards across. Then he carefully moved on to the next part of the butte, which was almost a sheer wall. He stepped carefully from one small rock to another until he was some hundred yards on beyond. He knew that he was running a risk because he could be seen from the house. But now, he didn’t care. Then he changed his right sandal to the one with the notch, and began moving around leaving obvious signs, though not so obvious that Claude would think he was doing it on purpose. Obvious only to the eye of a trained tracker. He let his footsteps take him inside the opening of the horseshoe-shaped formation. He went all the way to the back of it, some fifty, sixty, seventy yards, stepping carefully from rock to rock, but being careful to slip every once in a while and leave the deadly mark of the notch. He let the steps take him up to where he had spotted a ledge that stuck out prominently, some ten yards up. There he stopped, and then backed his way out, this time leaving a clean trail. He climbed up the north side of the rocks that made up the horseshoe and clambered to the top. Once on the top, he skirted around the sides of the top of the horseshoe until he was back to the highest and also the broadest point. There was a ledge there that hung out over the whole area below. He wanted Claude to come in and follow his footprints, his trail, to where he had led him. After that, it was going to be a test of skill.

From his position, Longarm was able to see back toward the ranch house. Some parts of the walk that Claude would make if he followed Longarm’s trail around to the north would be obscured from his vision. It could be that Claude would appear suddenly at the mouth of the butte, or he could decide to come around it all the way and make his approach from the northeast. Longarm couldn’t be sure. To get a better vantage point, he crept along below the crest of the ridge until he was over the spot where he had made it appear that he had found a hiding place in the rocks. At least, that was where his trail led, the trail with the sandal with the notched heel. He wanted Claude to go to that spot and begin to climb.

Longarm got around to the north side of the ridge, and cautiously peered over the next formation. He could just barely make out a figure walking east but still well to the north. The man appeared to be wearing some kind of long garment. Longarm couldn’t imagine what he’d be doing in a duster or a raincoat, if that was what it was. It was too hot for such a garment. As he watched, he saw the figure begin to turn toward the south, toward the buttes, the rocks, and the outcroppings. He tested the blade of the machete for the first time. He had carried it mostly in his left hand, not paying much attention to it. He didn’t think much of it as a weapon, and after he tested the blade, he thought even less. It was as dull as a dull knife could be. In fact, it was as dull on one side as it was on the other. The point wasn’t even very pointy. As a weapon, it was practically useless. It wasn’t sharp enough to be used as a knife or heavy enough to be used as a club. He swore softly to himself. It was another example of the Nelsons’ deceit.

He watched carefully as Claude neared. Now, he could see him clearly. He was wearing some kind of big coat that reached almost to his ankles. He had on a felt hat, but he was wearing that big coat and gloves. In his hand, he was carrying a revolver. The barrel length was nine inches, but it looked like a bigger caliber than .38 to Longarm.

Then Claude disappeared, and Longarm could hear him casting about in the first circle of rocks and buttes. They were very muted sounds, just the clink of one rock against another, the sound of a man brushing up against a boulder. He was moving softly and carefully. He didn’t have a trail now to follow Longarm, and wouldn’t pick it up until he came far enough south to find the trail at the mouth of the horseshoe. Longarm tried to put his mind into that of Claude Nelson’s. There was enough grass and enough rocks that he could credit Longarm with being able to leave no sign after a certain point in his flight east. But the ground inside the area of the buttes was all bare and dusty and there was no way not to leave a trail. He knew that Claude was carefully making his way from north to south, his revolver cocked, ready to fire at the first sign of anything.

It had grown well past dusk now, and the moon was starting to rise. It was still almost as light as day, though the sunshine was vanishing fast. The buttes were casting eerie shadows on the harsh landscape as Longarm looked down from his perch. He figured it would take Claude another half hour to work his way toward the southern semicircle of rock ledges. He might turn and go the other way, but Longarm doubted it, since Claude began casting about on the western side. Longarm was lying atop the rock ledge where he couldn’t be seen from either the west side or the east side. The realization that the machete was worthless was greatly troubling him. He did not know what he could use for a weapon. From where he was, it was about a twelve-foot drop down to the floor of the desert, almost a sheer drop with nothing but a ledge here or there to leap from. He lay quietly, now and again looking at his watch and listening to the night getting quieter except for the sounds that Claude made in his search.

Longarm guessed that forty-five minutes to an hour had passed since Claude had first approached the line of buttes when he suddenly appeared in the mouth of the horseshoe rock ledge. Longarm could only see him indistinctly as he was sixty or seventy yards away and the light was fading fast. By now, Longarm had found a rock that suited his purposes. It was about the size of a big loaf of bread, and he reckoned it weighed about fifteen or twenty pounds. The sight of Claude had startled him for a second, but then it had answered the question about the long garment the man was wearing. The man had on a heavy leather overcoat. It made Longarm almost want to laugh. He could see that the purpose, clearly, was to render the machete useless. The machete wouldn’t have cut hot butter, much less such thick leather. Longarm supposed that they considered him dumb enough that he would charge Claude with a machete in hopes of getting in one swipe, and when that stroke failed, he would find himself helpless against the weapon that Claude Nelson was carrying.

He saw Claude discover the trail of notched sandaled tracks. He saw him get down on his hands and knees and study it in the dim light. He could almost see the satisfaction on Claude’s face as he stood up and advanced into the opening, carrying his revolver at the ready now with the hammer back. It made Longarm want to smile, and if the stakes hadn’t been so high, he would have. He liked his position. He was about five feet from where his false trail would lead Claude to the rock face. It was all he wanted. It was all the edge he needed. As carefully and as silently as he could, he slipped the canteen and the food sack off his arm. The machete he left lying where it was. Now he lay stretched out, the loaf of rock in his hands, one hand holding each end. Claude came forward, following the trail toward the rock face. Longarm began to gather himself. There was a jagged outcrop to his left that allowed him to get partially to his knees and yet keep Claude from observing him. But it wouldn’t have mattered. Claude had his head down, his gun out, and was following the trail right straight to where Longarm wanted him.

Claude Nelson reached the rock face and stopped. He looked around puzzled. He glanced up to his left toward the ledge. He was not quite turned away from Longarm enough that he couldn’t whirl back in time, but Longarm liked his position and the distance between them just as it was. With a deft movement, he flipped a pebble over Claude Nelson’s head so that it landed toward the north, in and among the rocks. Nelson instantly whipped around, showing his whole back to Longarm. In that instant, Longarm stood up, took one step, and dove, the rock held outstretched in both of his hands.

He hit Claude Nelson with the rock first. He could feel the man’s head break. Then his chest slammed into the back of the gold miner as Nelson crumpled. There was a sound of a shot as Nelson involuntarily pulled the trigger. He was falling and Longarm was falling with him.

They lay tangled together on the desert floor. It didn’t take but a quick glance to see that Claude Nelson was dead, his head smashed in. Blood was flowing freely from the blow that Longarm had given him with the rock.

Even though it was only ten o’clock, Longarm felt there was little time to waste. When he could disentangle himself from the body, he reached down and picked up Nelson’s revolver. True enough, it was a .38-caliber. Longarm opened the gate and spun the cylinder. There had only been one shell. The gun was useless. Frantically, Longarm looked through the pockets of the dead man. Surely, he would not have come with only one round of ammunition, but perhaps that was some silly game that the brothers played depending on their skill. Perhaps because Claude got the first chance, he was only allowed one cartridge. Longarm searched the body for thirty minutes, every pocket, every crevice, even his hat band. There was not another cartridge to be found on him. Longarm sat back in disgust. He had thought if he could kill the first of them and get a weapon, it would be easy from then.

Now, he had to think of something else. He sat, contemplating. A thought came to him. On the south side of the outcrop, he had seen a series of caves about shoulder high to a tall man. Something like that might serve, he thought.

He reached down and put back on the sandal that had the notch on it. Then he shouldered Claude Nelson to his feet, leaned over, and took him over his shoulder. The man was not particularly heavy—Longarm reckoned him to be about 160 pounds—but Longarm was tired from the tension of the day. He walked as deliberately as he could, leaving as few marks in the deep sand as possible. He did not want it to appear that he was carrying a load.

He went down the south side of the horseshoe butte, and then turned around its end and came back up until he had found one of the little caves that seemed to suit his purpose. There were two together, one smaller than the other. The first was not much bigger than a big trunk. With some effort, Longarm shouldered Claude Nelson into the hole, and then using what rocks he could find, filled it in so that there was no sign that a body was buried there. The cave next to it was bigger. It was about six feet wide and six or seven feet deep, and there was room enough for a man to hide behind the face so that someone looking directly in couldn’t see the occupant. It appeared perfect, but first he had other work to do.

He clambered down the face of the rock, and then went back along his first trail, eradicating any signs of blood that might have dripped from Claude’s crushed head. He kept going until he had reached the original place where he had leapt upon the Nelson brother. There was a great deal of blood there. He didn’t want to disguise all of it. Using his hat, he scooped up enough sand so that there appeared to be just a few drops. After that, he carefully backtracked using his hat to smooth out the places where his sandals had sunk deep into the sand. He didn’t want it to appear that he had been carrying a load.

When all that was done, he circled around, using his original entrance into the rock pile, went to the spot where he had killed Claude, and then walked in and around to the cave where he had left Claude’s body. There were a few signs of blood on the rock to indicate that someone had crawled in there to hide or to hide and die. He intended for the next brother, Frank, to think that the person was him, Longarm.

He almost waited until too late to realize his mistake. Frank wouldn’t go to the cave where Longarm was waiting, hiding to ambush him. He would remove the rocks from the little cavity where Longarm had stuffed Claude’s body. And that cavity in the rock side was too far away to reach the other brother without exposing himself. It was going on one o’clock in the morning when he frantically began rectifying his error. He quickly pulled away the rocks that hid Claude, then jerked the body out, tore the big leather coat off him, and dragged him over to the bigger cave and stuffed him into the back. After that, he arranged the rocks that showed blood in a line toward the bigger cave where he had been hiding.

He took the big leather coat and let just one sleeve lay so that it could be seen from the outside. For practice, he got behind the little facing that hid him enough inside the cave so that he couldn’t be seen from outside. After that, he climbed back to the top of the ledge and worked his way around to where he had left his food, canteen, and the machete. He worked his way north to the highest point of the rock ledge so that he could see back toward the house. It was almost two o’clock, but Frank wasn’t due to come until three, when Claude’s eight hours would be up. He had been told that Frank would be led part of the way on a horse because of his heart condition.

The moon was up good now, and though it wasn’t anything like daylight, there was still enough light so that he could clearly see movement around the house and among the outbuildings.

He lay still and watched. Surprisingly, he wasn’t tired, but he supposed it was from the tension. He had almost made a very fatal error, so he could tell that the heat and the hurry and the feeling of being hunted must have been working on him. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have laid such a foolish trap. He wished, mightily, for a spyglass or a set of binoculars so that he could more clearly see what his next hunter was up to.

He didn’t, however, have long to wait. At about two o’clock, he saw a horse and rider leave the ranch and start directly toward the hills and buttes where he was hiding. No one was leading the horse. There was a rider and he was making straight along the path that Claude had taken, heading toward the north end of the rocks and ridges and little hills and buttes. One brother, or perhaps both brothers, had been watching what the other brother had done. Not only that, Frank was leaving an hour before it was his time. It was all Longarm needed to know. Oh, yes. Their word was good. About as good as fool’s gold. They might have the gold, but they damned sure took him for a fool. Well, he would see about that.

Climbing carefully so as not to create the slightest sound that would carry a long way in the still night air, he made his way down the south face of the butte until he was on the desert floor. Then he worked his way back around to the cave where he intended to conceal himself. He carefully climbed up the six or seven feet, and then worked his way inside and got behind the facing. He only had about a quart of water left and no food, but he had the machete and he had the body of Claude Nelson, and he had the sleeve of the heavy leather coat visible to anyone looking from a horse into the cave. He sat back and forced himself to wait. He didn’t know how long it was going to take, but he could be very patient when he had to be. He knew that Frank Nelson would work the outcroppings from the north to the south because that was the route that Claude had taken. The signs would not be as clear at night, especially not from horseback, though he expected that Frank would be dismounting from time to time to look at the signs. Longarm wanted it to appear that he had been bloodied and then had run around the leg of the rocky outcropping and died on the other side. At least, that was what he wanted to have Frank come around the end thinking. What he thought after he saw the cave and saw the sleeve of Claude’s overcoat could only be a guess on Longarm’s part.

He waited and he waited. He didn’t bother to look at his watch. He could tell the time by how near the sounds were that Frank Nelson was making in his coming. He could tell how near the clink of a hoof on a rock was, or the creak of a saddle. He wondered if Frank was armed the same way that Claude had been, one gun, one cartridge. He didn’t think so. As a matter of fact, it appeared to him from the brief view he had gotten that Frank was carrying a long gun of some kind, either a shotgun or a rifle. It appeared what the Nelsons said and what they did were two different matters.

The time passed. Two hours. His greatest fear was that Frank would conclude that something had gone amiss with Claude, and that he would go back to fetch Asher and Longarm would have the two brothers to fight. But he doubted that. There was a streak in each of them, he thought, that made each one want to outdo that other. He didn’t believe that Frank would be willing to go back and tell Asher that he didn’t think he could take Longarm alone. Frank might be having his worries and doubts about what had happened to Claude by now since he hadn’t come back to the house, but Longarm didn’t think Frank would seek help himself. Besides, he was on horseback and he had no reason to conclude that Claude would have returned to the house from the same direction he had come. For all Frank knew, Claude had claimed the prize and had Longarm staked out somewhere. No, Longarm thought, Frank would come on.

Then he heard, much closer than before, a creak of a saddle. Frank had turned the corner of the southern leg. There was no rock blocking the sound of him and his horse. In a moment, Longarm heard the sound of an iron shoe on a rock. It sounded as if it was almost on top of him.

And then, unbelievably, he heard a whisper in the night air. It said, “Claude, Claude. Are you around here? This is Frank. Where are you?

Claude.”

Longarm waited. He was on his knees with his left shoulder pressed against the side of the cave entrance. He had the machete drawn back with both hands, ready to chop with it.

He heard the saddle creak loudly and heard the man step to the ground before he heard the whisper again. “Claude. This is Frank. Claude, where are you? It’s me. Is that you in there? I see your leather coat. Are you all right?”

Longarm tensed himself.

He could hear the sound of boots scrambling over rocks. He could hear the sound of a man climbing. It was coming very near.

“Claude, is that you in there? Why don’t you answer me? What’s the matter?”

There was the sound of more climbing, and then suddenly Frank’s head and shoulders appeared in the opening of the cave. Longarm swung the machete with both hands, swinging it with every ounce of strength he had, the dull edge first. He caught Frank Nelson right between the nose and the forehead.

Chapter 8

His intention had been to cut the top half of the man’s head off, and he damned near had done just that. Even though it was with the dull side of the machete, the blow had gashed into Nelson’s head and killed him instantly. The man had sort of just slumped down right in the entrance of the cave. It took some effort for Longarm to work the blade loose from the bone in Nelson’s head. When he had done that, he reached out, grabbed the man by his belt, and dragged him up into the cave. He pushed him back over to where Claude was huddled in death, and then began covering them both with rocks.

Just outside the door of the cave, he saw the weapon that Frank Nelson had been carrying. It was a short, sawed-off, double-barrel shotgun. It looked to be a 12-gauge. It was, Longarm reckoned, about as deadly a weapon for close work as you could get. He wasn’t even sure that it wasn’t a 10-gauge. He cracked it open and saw the two enormous shell heads in the breech. Longarm snapped it shut, and then crawled out of the cave and began laboriously throwing more rocks up and into the mouth of the opening until it looked like a rock slide from above had covered it up.

Frank Nelson’s horse was standing right where it had been left. The horse looked around as Longarm walked up and gathered up the reins.

Longarm threw the reins over the pony’s neck and then stepped into the saddle. He shoved the shotgun down into the boot, and discovered a .44-caliber revolver in a saddle holster. The man had come well prepared, Longarm thought, but it hadn’t done him any good. Now there was just Asher Nelson.

For a time Longarm sat on Frank Nelson’s horse, staring in the moonlit shadow of the rock outcropping across at the lit-up ranch house, wondering what Asher was thinking. It was very close to five o’clock in the morning and by all accounts, Asher must have reckoned that Claude, who had gone first, would have returned had something not happened to him. Asher must have heard the shot that the first brother had fired as Longarm had dropped on him. Then Frank had left and almost three hours had passed, but there still hadn’t been a sound. Longarm visualized Asher walking back and forth in the house, wondering, confused, maybe not concerned yet, but starting to have a doubt nibble at his mind. Longarm debated his options. He could slip up on the house and take Asher inside the dwelling. He didn’t think that would be a very difficult task since he had the shotgun and the revolver.

But Longarm didn’t want Nelson that way. He wanted Asher to discover for himself what had happened to his brothers. He wanted Asher to have the pleasure of tracking the movements of his brothers and seeing what had happened to them. Perhaps he wasn’t as good a tracker as he’d let on to be. Perhaps he wouldn’t find them in their tomb that had once been a cave. But by any rights, Longarm wanted Asher out looking. He wanted Asher to get the taste of a fruitless search.

There was only about an hour and a half left till daylight. He turned Frank Nelson’s horse south, and walked him slowly but steadily until he came to the first depression in the ground. Then he led the horse down until he couldn’t be seen, and started a southwestern movement. He wanted to get completely on the other side of the ranch house, but he wanted to be able to stop on occasion and watch to see if Asher left the ranch house. He didn’t think that Asher was going to be able to hold on until eleven o’clock, when it was his turn, but then, Longarm couldn’t be sure. He thought of firing one barrel of the shotgun just to give Asher something more to think about, but even that seemed as if it would make it easier on Nelson.

By six, he had worked his way completely around the ranch house and was approaching it from the west. He saw no workmen up and moving around but just to be on the safe side, he stopped well short of the outbuildings and tied the horse to a stunted cedar tree. He took the shotgun in his hand and stuck the .44 revolver in his belt, and began to sneak from one outbuilding to the next. He knew that the hired hands would be getting up very soon. He could already see lights in some of the little houses. The worst part was the open space between the first big barn and the ranch house. He came at it from an angle, trying to avoid a view from as many windows as he could. He covered the distance in a kind of lumbering run, hunched over and taking advantage of every bit of cover he could. The moon was down now and it was about as black as it was going to get. He got to the southwest corner of the house, and then began moving slowly from window to window until he was able to see into the big sunken living room. He edged up and peeked around the corner, and saw Asher walking back and forth. He was wearing rough khaki outdoor clothes, and had on knee-high hunting boots that were flat-heeled and looked as if they would be ideal for walking. Asher had a glass in his hand, but whether it was weak whiskey or tea or coffee, Longarm couldn’t be sure. Every few moments, Asher would go over to the window and stare toward the east, toward the buttes and the rough rocky country, the direction his brothers had last been seen taking.

Longarm took a grim satisfaction in noting the man’s concern. From the looks of the man, Longarm doubted he would last very much longer.

Five minutes passed, then ten, then fifteen. Suddenly, Asher walked straight across the room to the door and yelled out something in Spanish. Longarm spoke enough to know that Asher had just told someone to saddle his horse. Longarm wished him luck.

Longarm stayed behind the house, at the corner of where Asher had to come out if he were going to where they kept the horses. Most likely, though, he would exit through the front door and they would bring his horse around. Longarm knew that he could slip around to the east side of the house and confront Asher as he started to ride off, but there would be very little pleasure in that. Not the kind of pleasure Longarm was looking to have with a man like Asher Nelson. He wasn’t sure, but he was pretty certain that he had never felt such personal hatred for anyone as he did for Asher and his brothers. Of course, he no longer despised and was disgusted by the brothers. They were past that. Now all his hatred and disgust were concentrated on this spoiled, selfish, self-willed, cruel, arrogant sonofabitch who called himself Asher Nelson and who thought, because he had found some yellow metal, he could do anything he liked. He was a man who made himself the law. Well, if Longarm could do anything about it, he wouldn’t be the law much longer.

He saw Asher come back into the room, now wearing a khaki coat, go to the gun rack, and select a high-powered rifle with a scope mounted on its long barrel. He was going to break every part of the deal that he had supposedly made.

After that, Longarm watched him walk across the room and then down the hall and through the front door. Longarm waited a moment, hesitating at the southeast corner of the building, waiting to see if Asher did indeed ride off to the east.

Five minutes passed, and then Asher Nelson came riding into the beginning day on a good-looking, chunky bay horse. He already had the telescope of the rifle up to his eye, studying the country up ahead. Longarm watched him and let him go a half mile, then three quarters of a mile, before he turned and went around the house to the side where he knew the kitchen, the dining room, and the servants’ entrance was. He caught Manuel just as he was about to come out of the house through a side door. Longarm grabbed him around the neck without a word and put the revolver up to his head. The Mexican made no sign other than to have his eyes get big. Longarm said, “No speak. No speak. Comprende?”

The Mexican nodded, and then Longarm pulled the door back open and shoved him through.

Longarm said to Manuel, “Now, you do what I tell you, understand?”

The Mexican nodded. “Si, senor.”

They were in a kind of hall that seemed to connect the kitchen and the dining room. Longarm said, “Donde esta mi pistols? Tambien mi badge?” He patted his chest.

The little Mexican looked blank for a moment, and then led the way down the hall to the left and down another hall. There was another door there, and he opened it with a key. It looked to be an office. There on the desk was Longarm’s gunbelt along with both of his revolvers and his derringer. His badge wasn’t there, however. It made him angry. It made him think that Asher Nelson might have already hung the badge on the mounting plate in his trophy room.

He put his gunbelt on and slipped the derringer in place. He unloaded the revolver he’d taken from Frank Nelson and flung it and the shotgun onto the desk. He didn’t need anything other than his own weapons. He put his spare revolver inside his belt, and then directed the little Mexican to take him into the trophy room. They went down another hall and then down some stairs, and sure enough, there, inside the trophy room was his badge. It hadn’t been placed on the plaque, but was lying on a table nearby. Longarm snatched it up, furious that it should be in such a place, and pinned it on his chest.

He turned to the Mexican and said, “Now, the other senor. The other policia.”

Manuel nodded his head and leading the way, took Longarm to the door that he had seen shut on the young marshal.

Manuel took out his ring of keys, opened the door, and swung it wide. Longarm stood there. Blinking, shading his eyes with his hands, Ross Henderson sat up slowly from the bed he had been lying on. He said, “Who … who … who’s there?”

Longarm said, “It’s all right, son. You’re all right now. You’re back in the business of being a United States deputy marshal.”

Chapter 9

Longarm couldn’t get Ross Henderson to talk. He didn’t act dazed or confused or drugged, but he just kept his head down and mumbled the answers to the various questions Longarm asked him. No, they hadn’t hurt him. Yes, it had been kind of tight in that room. Yes, he was glad to see daylight again. No, they didn’t threaten him. Yes, they had asked him about Longarm. No, he hadn’t told them any more than they already knew.

Longarm couldn’t figure it out. He figured that four days in a closed room was not a whole lot of fun, but it was over now and he kept expecting the young man to come back full of piss and vinegar, yearning to get his hands on Asher Nelson.

Longarm told him over a breakfast of steak and eggs how the play had gone, what he had done to Frank and Claude. Ross Henderson nodded very politely and thoughtfully, and said, “Yes, sir. Yes, sir,” to every point Longarm made.

Henderson understood that Asher was still out there and that they had better start getting ready for his return. He mouthed the words, but there was nothing behind them. Even when Longarm sent Manuel to find Henderson’s gunbelt and badge, it didn’t help any. Henderson put the gunbelt on and pinned on the badge, but he was still mumbling and kept his head down, looking like a shy schoolboy at a big dance. Longarm had never known him very well, but he knew damned good and well that nobody who acted like that was going to get far in the Marshal Service.

Finally, Longarm asked him point-blank, “Ross, do you feel like you fouled up? Do you feel like you got me in the trouble I got in? Is that it?

Do you feel like you made a mistake when you sent that telegram?”

Henderson was sitting down at the end of the table looking down at his plate. He shook his head and mumbled something like, “No, sir.”

“Then what the hell is the matter with you?”

“Nothing.”

“Hell, boy. The only way I can tell that you’re alive is that you occasionally blink. You ought to be as mad as hell.”

“Yes, sir.”

Longarm said, “Listen, we’ve got to get ready. It’s going on for eight o’clock. Asher is not going to look long for his brothers, and he’ll be headed back this way. You get ready. Understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I want you to watch out the south side of the house. Understand? I’m going to watch out to the east.”

“Yes, sir.”

But what really scared Longarm was when Longarm said, “Would you like me to put you back in that room?” He was half kidding. Ross Henderson said, “Yes, sir. I wouldn’t mind.”

Longarm stared at the young deputy. Whatever was the matter with the boy was way beyond anything he understood.

The morning was advancing. When they had finished breakfast and were standing in the middle of the huge sitting room with the rifles on the wall and the exotic divans and couches, Longarm got right in front of Ross Henderson.

He said, “Son, I don’t know what’s happened to you or what’s come over you, but you’re not acting like a deputy United States marshal is supposed to act. Now, you pull yourself together, or I’m going to be sorry I ever let you out of that room. Do you understand?”

The young man said, “Yes, sir, yes, sir.”

Longarm said, “Oh, hell.”

The boy had replied with all the force of a vagrant draft of air.

Longarm said, “Damn it, kid, pull yourself together.”

Outside, Longarm heard the roar of the tiger or lion or whatever it was. He reckoned it was feeding time. He said, “Did you think they were going to feed you to that lion or that tiger? Did they tell you that they were going to have an elephant step on you? What exactly did they tell you?”

The young man looked away. “Nothing. Much.”

“All right,” Longarm said. “Keep it to yourself. I’ll be damned if I care. But you better do your job or I’m going to knock you over the head with this six-shooter.”

It was at about ten o’clock when Longarm saw a figure riding away from the southern end of the rocky ground, heading for the ranch house. He had little doubt that it was Asher Nelson, and soon enough, after about twenty minutes, he could see that the man was riding with the big-caliber scoped rifle held crosswise the saddle in front of him. Longarm got up from where he was kneeling by the window and walked to the south end of the room, where young Henderson was. He nudged him. “Come on, Ross. We’re fixing to take a prisoner. Asher is on his way.”

The young man looked around. On his face was a look that Longarm took to be fear, but he could not believe it could be fear. There were two of them and only one of Asher. So it must have been something else. It must have been embarrassment that Asher had taken him. It must have been relief. It might even have been excitement, but yet, it looked like fear to Longarm. Longarm said, “In about five minutes he’s going to be pulling up to the front door and expecting somebody to come take his horse. That somebody is going to be us. You watch me. Do not shoot the sonofabitch. I know you may want to, but don’t shoot him.”

Ross Henderson gave him a timid look. He said, “I wouldn’t shoot him, Marshal Long. I would never think of shooting him. He told me I couldn’t shoot him.”

Longarm took a step back and stared at the young man. He said, “He told you that you couldn’t shoot him?”

“Yes, sir. I had my gun on him when I seen what was going on. He told me I couldn’t shoot him, that I didn’t have the nerve to shoot him, and then he came and took the gun away from me.”

Longarm shut his eyes and then reopened them. He said, “Son, we don’t have time to talk about this now, but we’ll talk about it soon enough. I think I understand what’s going through your mind. Right now, let’s get up to that front door and tend to this business.”

Longarm cracked open one of the two double doors so that he could see to the east. It wasn’t long before the figure of Asher Nelson came loping toward the front of the house, still carrying the high-powered rifle across his saddle. He slowed to a trot and then to a walk as he approached the hitching post. He stopped just short of the porch and dismounted as a servant came running out to take the horse by the bridle and lead him back toward the barns.

Asher Nelson came up the steps, stomping his boots to clean them off. He was carrying the big rifle casually in his right hand. Longarm glanced across at Ross Henderson. To his amazement, the young man seemed to be almost trembling. He seemed to be afraid of Asher Nelson. It made Longarm feel a sympathy that he did not know was in him. He could not imagine the torture the young man was going through. Looking at young Ross Henderson only strengthened his resolve to deal as hard and as viciously with Asher Nelson as he could. He would have done so for his own sake if for nothing else. But considering what he had done to the mind of a promising young law officer made Longarm all the more angry.

Before Nelson could let himself into the house, Longarm suddenly whipped the door open and stuck the barrel of his .44-caliber into the forehead of the oldest brother. He had the hammer back and he said softly, “You better freeze or I’ll take the top of your head off.”

Asher Nelson stood stock still. Most men’s eyes would have almost crossed themselves trying to look at the gun barrel, but Asher Nelson didn’t look at that. He looked at Longarm’s eyes, and what he saw there convinced him to be very careful. He said, “What about this rifle I’m holding? It’s an expensive rifle and I’d hate to drop it.” Longarm said, “Drop it.”

Asher Nelson let go and the rifle clattered to the tiles.

Longarm reached out with his left hand, got a fistful of Asher’s shirt, and pulled him into the house with the barrel of his gun still pressed against the man’s forehead.

He said, “Now, you walk right past me and down that hall. I’m going to have this .44 in the small of your back, and if you even flinch from a direct course into that living room I’m going to break your back, right there in the smallest part of it, and you’re going to get to lay right there in the floor and not even be able to move your arms or your legs while you die.”

Asher Nelson did not say anything, but as he walked past Longarm, he glanced at the young deputy and said, “Hello, Deputy Henderson. I see that you are enjoying your freedom.”

Longarm whipped the .44 revolver up and smashed the barrel down on the top of Asher Nelson’s head. His heavy felt hat took most of the brunt of the blow, but it still staggered the man. Longarm said, his voice tight and vicious, “Keep your mouth shut, you sonofabitch.”

Asher straightened himself up. He said, “That was uncalled for, Marshal. You didn’t need to resort to that.”

Longarm put his boot in the middle of Nelson’s back and shoved him as hard as he could. The man stumbled a few steps forward, and then went sprawling on the hard tiles of the floor.

Longarm moved up to where he was lying and kicked him in the leg. He said, “Get up, you sonofabitch.”

Asher Nelson rose slowly to his feet, rubbing his left elbow where it had hit the hard tiles. He said, “I’m surprised at you, Deputy Long. You’ve won. I would have expected a little more magnanimity than this, a little more sportsmanship.”

Longarm said, “I want to see you walk straight into that room where this all started. Then we’ll have us a little talk about sportsmanship.”

He had Asher Nelson sit in the same place where he had sat before. Longarm took his seat on the divan where he had sat with the low table in front of him.

Asher said, “What do we do now, Deputy Long? You have won, obviously. Both of my brothers are dead. I never thought it would come to this. We made a bad mistake about you.”

Longarm said, “The bad mistake you and your brothers made was when you first put that poster out. No, the first bad mistake that you made was when you first thought up this idea. You don’t go hunting people like big game. It’s against the law. It’s against the law of nature, it’s against the law of the United States, and it’s against my law.”

Asher Nelson shrugged. If he was sorry for the way things had turned out, there was no sign of it in his face. He said, “Would you mind telling me exactly how you tricked us so easily?”

“No,” Longarm said. “Not at all. I’ll be glad to.” But he was looking toward where young Henderson was standing, staring out the south windows. Longarm had deliberately not told him where to sit or what to do. He had wanted to see what the young man would do on his own. When they had come into the room, Henderson had gone and looked at the rack of high-powered rifles. Then he had just gone over and stared out the window.

Longarm said, “Well, the first thing I did was discover that little notch you put in the sole of the sandal you gave me. I don’t know whose bright idea that was, but that was where you went wrong in the first place.”

Nelson nodded. “That was Frank’s idea. The problem is that we have ten or twelve Mexicans working around here and they all wear the same kind of footgear. Frank thought we wouldn’t be able to pick up your track from all the footprints that our workers were making. He thought you wouldn’t notice just a little nick on the heel of your sandal or huarache, as it is more correctly called.”

Longarm said, “But I did, and after that, it was very easy to mislead you. I got another sandal, and I only wore the one with the telltale when I wanted you to go where I wanted you to go. Of course, you all three lied when you assured me how fair you were going to play. You didn’t play fair, Nelson. Even within the design of this insane scheme of yours, you cheated. Claude was the only one who came with the revolver. He was the only one that walked, but he was arrogant. He only carried one shell.”

Asher smiled at that. “Yes, Claude was always a little too arrogant for his own good. Taking only one cartridge was both good and bad. He said if he didn’t kill or wound you with the first, he didn’t want to furnish you with a weapon you could use against the rest of us. He was right.”

Longarm said, “But it really didn’t make any difference.”

Asher Nelson nodded. “Apparently not. Then what happened?”

In graphic detail, Longarm told him how he had killed both of the brothers and how he had seen Asher leave the ranch house, five hours before his time was to be. He said, “You couldn’t even wait until you were supposed to come out. You cheated then.”

Asher nodded. “Yes, that’s true. I was worried. Claude should have returned. When he didn’t and then Frank didn’t show, I knew something was wrong.”

“And you took a high-powered rifle with a scope on it, just as you said you wouldn’t. And you took a horse, just as you said you wouldn’t.”

Asher Nelson said, “Yes, but you’ve got to understand something. At that point, I realized I was up against a much more dangerous enemy than I had counted on. I had to change the rules. You must understand that I knew we were in trouble and it had become the survival of the fittest. I knew I couldn’t beat you at the contest as we had laid out the rules.”

Longarm suddenly leaned forward into Asher Nelson’s face. He said, the words low so that Henderson couldn’t hear him, “What did you do to that young deputy, you sonofabitch. He’s withdrawn into a shell.”

Asher Nelson looked surprised. “We didn’t do anything to him. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You scared the hell out of him. How did you do it?”

Asher shook his head. “We didn’t threaten him, we didn’t do anything. We gave him three meals a day, we offered him whiskey, which he declined, and we offered him a woman, which he also declined. All we did was put him in a room for four days—a windowless room, yes. I’m sure it was frightening, I’m sure it was lonely. But we never deliberately frightened him.”

Longarm said, “You’re lying, Nelson, and I’m going to find out what you did.”

Asher Nelson said, “I’m tired and I’m hungry.” He suddenly yawned. “Let’s have something to eat and then get a good sleep in.”

Longarm looked at him. “Are you crazy? Do you think this is over with?”

Asher Nelson said, “Of course it’s over with. Why shouldn’t it be? You won. Hell, man, you’ve killed my two brothers. I’d like to make arrangements to have their bodies brought in.”

“Nelson, I hate to surprise you, but you ain’t making any more arrangements about anything. As far as I’m concerned, your brothers are dead and buried in a cave.”

Asher Nelson looked at Longarm in amazement. “Why, that’s barbaric. Surely they’re going to get a decent burial.”

Longarm said, “Have you got ten thousand dollars in this house?”

A sly smile crept over Nelson’s face. “Of course I’ve got ten thousand dollars in this house. Do you want it in paper or gold?”

“Well, considering the circumstances, I think it would be more fitting if it were in gold. What would you say?”

Nelson shrugged. “That’s no problem, but couldn’t I have a meal first?

Honestly, I’m starving to death.”

Longarm stood up. “Starving ain’t the way you’re going to die, Nelson. Lead me to the gold.”

Longarm reached into his back pocket and took out the same poster he had taken off the wall in the hotel. He said to Asher Nelson, “I’m claiming this ten-thousand-dollar reward. Do you see anything wrong with that?”

Asher Nelson shook his head. “Certainly not. You brought yourself here alive. The poster offers a ten-thousand-dollar reward for the capture and the delivery of Deputy Marshal Custis Long. You have captured yourself and you have delivered yourself. The reward is obviously yours.”

“Good. Let’s go get it.”

Asher Nelson said, “Then what happens?”

“Let’s take it one step at a time,” Longarm said. He looked toward the end of the room. He said, “Deputy Henderson, come along with us. We’re going to go get ten thousand dollars.”

The young man said, “Yes, sir.”

Longarm said, “Mr. Nelson thinks it’s going to buy us off. Don’t you, Mr. Nelson?”

Asher Nelson shook his head slowly. “No, I don’t think there’s anything to buy off. I made a proposition and you will have collected on it. We had a contest and you won. You can claim two out of three kills. I consider the matter closed. I see no further action for anything.”

Longarm smiled slyly. “That’s the way you look at it, is it?”

“Of course.”

Longarm said, “Lead the way.” They went out of the big room, down the hall, and into Asher’s office. The room where his gunbelt and revolver and Ross Henderson’s gunbelt had been stored. It was not a big room, but it was wood-paneled and luxurious. Asher Nelson went to one end and with a twist of a wooden lever, removed a panel to expose an iron safe. It was a combination safe, and he fiddled with the dials for a few seconds. Longarm was making head motions to Ross Henderson to move up closer to the right side of Asher Nelson. Longarm felt pretty sure there was a lot of money in the safe, and he felt pretty sure there was a gun in there too. He thought it would help Ross Henderson’s confidence if he was the one who stopped Asher Nelson from getting his hand on the weapon. But just to be sure, Longarm stayed at Nelson’s back, peering over his shoulder as the man swung the door open.

Inside the safe, which was fairly large, being four feet by four feet, were a lot of papers, stacks of gold coins, and some stacks of gold bars, as well as quite a bit of paper currency.

Asher Nelson said, “And you’d be wanting gold, is that right, Marshal?”

He ran his hand under one of the shelves inside the safe. Longarm knew he wasn’t going for gold, so he simply quietly pulled his revolver and put it to the back of Asher Nelson’s neck. He was hoping that Ross Henderson would do something.

Nelson brought his hand out. Longarm saw just the butt of the gun as Nelson started back with it. At that instant, Longarm pressed the barrel of his gun to the man’s head. He said, “Asher, that ain’t ten thousand dollars. That’s a gun, a revolver. You bring it on out and drop it on the floor.”

He heard Asher laugh dryly. He said, “Well, Marshal, you can’t blame me for trying.”

Longarm glanced across at Ross Henderson. He seemed hypnotized. “Damn it, Ross. Didn’t you see that? You had a better view of it than I did. If he had got that gun out, he could have killed us both.”

Asher Nelson said, “I don’t think your young deputy likes guns very much, Marshal Long. But who knows?”

Longarm took the gun away from Nelson and stuck it down in his waistband. He said, “Now, get to counting gold, Mr. Nelson.”

Asher Nelson began pulling out stacks of hundred-dollar gold pieces, counting them out carefully. He said, “I wouldn’t want to cheat you, Marshal.”

Longarm said, “That looks like it’s going to be a pile of money. Ross, I’m going to step out to the stable and get some saddlebags. You watch the prisoner. Keep a gun on him. I won’t be long, maybe ten minutes.”

He saw the stricken look come over Ross Henderson’s face. The young man took an involuntary step backward from where Nelson was kneeling at the safe. He gave Longarm an agonized look, but Longarm pretended he hadn’t seen it. Instead, he opened the door of the office and stepped into the hall. For a moment, he walked in place as if he were moving on off. Instead, he stood right by the end of the door with his revolver at the ready, listening.

Asher Nelson said, “Quick, son. Give me that gun of yours.”

“No, sir. I can’t do that.”

“Look, you’re not going to shoot me. You can’t shoot people, son. It’s not in you.”

Longarm could hear feet moving. He guessed Ross Henderson was backing away. Nelson said, “Hurry up. Give me that gun. He’ll be back in just a few minutes.”

Ross Henderson said with a plea in his voice, “Mr. Nelson, don’t come no nearer. I swear I’ll shoot you. I will.”

Asher Nelson said, “You know you won’t, boy. There’s them that will shoot and there’s them that won’t. You’re one of them that won’t. Now, I’m going to reach out my hand and you hand me that gun.”

Longarm could hear furniture being shoved aside. He imagined young Henderson was now at the far end of the office. Henderson said, “Mr. Nelson, don’t push me anymore. I’ll hit you if I have to.”

Nelson’s voice came soothingly. “Just give me the revolver, boy, and you’ll be home free. I’ll take care of Longarm and nobody but you and me will ever know about this.”

A cry came from Henderson. He said, “No! No! No! Back up.”

“I’m going to have the gun, son.”

In that instant, Longarm judged that it had gone on too far. He jerked the door back and pointed his revolver at Nelson. He said, “I thought you were supposed to be counting money, Mr. Nelson. You’d better get busy at it. We’ve got a long day ahead of us.”

As if he hadn’t heard what had been said, Longarm jerked his head toward Henderson. He said, “Son, go on out there and get our horses ready. One of them hired hands in the stable will know which one is mine and get yours ready. Mr. Nelson ain’t going to need one. And tell Manuel to get us some grub and some water ready for a trip. Can you handle that?”

Henderson holstered his gun with relief. He said, “Yes, sir. I can tend to that.”

He shouldered past Longarm and went out the door. Longarm said to Nelson, “Why don’t you come on me, Nelson? Why don’t you sit there and ask me to hand you the gun?”

Asher Nelson gave him a bemused smile. He said, “It’s amazing, the difference in men. I’m sure you can see now why we didn’t choose to select Deputy Henderson for a worthy stalk. It would have been a great deal, as you say, like hunting a milk cow.”

Longarm stared at him with flat eyes. “You know, Nelson, I had planned to make it plenty rough on you for this stunt. In fact, short of killing you, I didn’t reckon there was anything I wasn’t going to do to you. But now after I’ve seen what you’ve done to that young man, I’m going to make it even rougher.”

Asher Nelson laughed and shook his head. “Oh, no you’re not, Marshal. You’re bound by a sense of duty. You’ll take me in and put me in a jail—perhaps you will. In the end, I will win. I’ll have the expensive lawyers. You will have taken ten thousand dollars. There’s a lot more where that came from. You might as well save us both the trouble of fooling with this thing and go on about your business. You’ll be a much richer man for it, both spiritually and financially.”

Through gritted teeth, Longarm said, “You just get over there and finish counting money. That, right now, is your only job, mister.”

As he headed for the safe, Asher Nelson said, “Oh, by the way, why won’t I be needing a horse? Are we not going into town?”

Longarm said, “Some of us are going into town.”

Asher Nelson was amused again. “I take it that you’re going to leave the heroic Deputy Henderson here to protect the scene of the crime until you can return with other law officers. Very clever, Marshal Long.”

Longarm just clenched his teeth until his jaw muscles bulged out.

Chapter 10

They were in front of the Nelson ranch house. Deputy Ross Henderson was already mounted and Longarm’s horse was already waiting. Longarm had Asher Nelson standing in the sand below the front porch. He tied one end of a lariat rope to the saddlehorn of Henderson’s saddle, and then walked back and threw a noose over Nelson’s head and pulled it tight around Nelson’s neck.

Nelson looked stunned. He said, “Surely you don’t intend that I should walk in this afternoon heat all the way to town?”

Longarm said, “No, you can run some if you want, or just kind of lay down on the ground and be dragged.”

Nelson said sarcastically, “You’re not going to tie my hands behind my back?”

“I don’t really see no need. Besides, I think you’re going to need them to keep your balance. We plan to set a pretty good pace. If you go to try and take off that noose, Deputy Henderson there will give it a right smart yank.”

Longarm mounted his own horse, the one he had borrowed from Lee Gray. He nodded at Ross Henderson and said, “Let’s go. Take it easy at first until our guest gets used to the pace.” They started off with Asher Nelson protesting at every step.

Longarm looked back at him. He said, “You better save your breath, Nelson. Most likely, you’re going to need it.”

Asher Nelson said, “You never gave me any lunch. You never gave me any breakfast. I haven’t had any water.”

Longarm said, “My, my. You don’t look after yourself very well, do you?

I’m surprised you’ve survived this long in the desert.”

Nelson screamed at him. “Longarm, you’ll regret this. I’ll see you in a federal prison for this. You mark my words.”

“You already marked your words when you wrote that poster. You’re a dead man and you just don’t know it. Now, keep up the pace or we’ll strike up a trot.”

For the first mile, Nelson yelled and screamed and writhed and jerked at the rope that was around his neck. Sometimes he found he had to run when the horses, who were both fresh, wanted to break into a trot.

Longarm said to Ross Henderson, “Take a few dallies around your saddlehorn and pull him up closer. He’s lagging too far behind.”

Henderson looped the rope around his saddlehorn, drawing Nelson up to within two or three yards of the rear of his horse.

Longarm from time to time scouted ahead to make sure the prairie stayed empty. The men who worked on Nelson’s ranch were not gunhands, but one of them might have taken the foolish idea in his head to send for some. There were plenty enough in the neighborhood, Longarm knew, who would be glad to hire out for what would undoubtedly be a high price to save Nelson’s life.

It was a hot day, and growing hotter by the minute. By now Nelson was using all his breath for walking. His shirt was soaked through and he was panting and walking hunched over. Longarm rode along thinking of the problem of young Henderson. It was clear that he hadn’t been able to shoot when he should have, and Longarm didn’t know the circumstances, but he did know that the young man perhaps shouldn’t be a marshal. A man who couldn’t hold up his end was not only a danger to himself, he was also a danger to his colleagues. If you were with a marshal and you were in a tight place and you went back-to-back, you had to know for certain that your back was protected so long as that other marshal was there. All you needed to worry about was what was in front of you.

Henderson was a nice kid. He was big and strong and good-looking. He looked like a marshal should. But somewhere, somehow, perhaps something was missing.

Longarm also thought about the $10,000 as he traveled over the barren countryside. He had no qualms about taking the money—it had been advertised and offered and he had collected. He intended to take it. He was, however, going to make some other distributions from it. He was going to keep five and spread the other five around. To whom, he hadn’t decided yet. Certainly, he was going to give Lee Gray at least $2,000. What he was going to do with the rest was anybody’s guess. He was certain that Billy Vail would hear about it, but he didn’t think Billy Vail would have much to say about it because Longarm knew Billy would have done the same under the circumstances.

His thoughts were interrupted by Nelson’s cries and pleas for water. He looked back. He could see that Ross Henderson was marching his horse steadfastly ahead and that Asher Nelson was desperately trying to catch up with the canteen that hung from the saddle on which Henderson was riding.

Nelson said, “Water! Deputy Henderson, water! For God’s sake, give me some water, please!”

Longarm slowed his horse to watch and see what Henderson would do. They had come about four or five miles, and he was somewhat amazed that Asher Nelson had come that far without begging for water or food or whiskey or something. All around was the brown and gray of the scrubby desert. Overhead was the bright blinding sun. It was a hostile country, not fit for a human being. Longarm watched as he saw Ross Henderson go through a debate with himself and then slow his horse. Longarm was some ten yards ahead. He stopped his own horse to watch. Asher Nelson came staggering up the line, pulling himself hand-over-hand along the rope, reaching desperately for the canteen. He got both hands on it, pulled the cork, and then tilted it up to his mouth, sucking at it greedily. It was Longarm who saw his left hand start to steal away from the canteen and toward the revolver on Ross Henderson’s right side.

Longarm yelled out, “Ross! Look out!”

In that instant, Ross Henderson saw the danger, and in less than an instant he clapped the spurs to his mount, who had been chomping to run all day. The horse bolted and the slack in the rope fed out like a lightning bolt, and the noose hit the underside of Asher Nelson’s jaw. Longarm could hear his neck break from as far away as he was. It took Ross Henderson some thirty or forty yards to get his horse pulled up. By then, Asher Nelson was just lying face down in the furrow his face and belly and knees had made in the scruffy ground. He was not moving. Longarm rode toward the two of them. He looked at the young deputy, who was shaking, his face white. Longarm stopped his horse, got down, walked over to the body, and took the noose off. With his boot heel, he turned Asher Nelson over and studied him. His jaw had been broken, as well as his neck, when the power of the big horse and the strength of the rope had overpowered the muscles and bone of his neck.

Longarm walked slowly toward where Henderson sat his horse. He was coiling the lariat rope as he went. He handed it up to Henderson. The young man stared down at him.

Henderson said, “Marshal Long, I didn’t have no idea. I didn’t.”

Longarm said calmly, “You did real good, son. You did what a lawman was supposed to have done. He went for your pistol and you stopped him. What you did was lawful. Now, coil your rope up. We’ll be able to make better time without the load.”

Henderson looked around in confusion. “Aren’t we going to take him with us?”

Longarm was mounting his horse. “I don’t know about you, but I ain’t riding double with him.”

“Then shouldn’t we bury him?”

Longarm swung his horse north. “What for? The buzzards will finish him off soon enough. Besides, he ain’t no friend of mine. Is he yours?”

For the first time, emotion came into the face of Ross Henderson. “Friend? I hate him. I hate his guts. I’d like to get off this horse and stomp him to death, if he wasn’t already dead.”

Longarm got out a cheroot and lit it. He said, “Well, son, you’ve put that off a little too long. Let’s get kicking and get into Santa Rosa and have a cold beer, a hot supper, and maybe a lukewarm whore.”

It was the next day about mid-morning. Lee Gray had already taken $3,000 from Longarm and left for Tucumcari. Now, Longarm sat with Ross Henderson in a little saloon next to White’s Hotel. Longarm didn’t think it was fitting to have their talk in the hotel the Nelson brothers had owned. What was to become of them and their property was of no concern to him. They had advertised for trouble and they had gotten it. But there had been another tragedy as far as he was concerned.

He said, “Tell me how it happened, son.”

Ross Henderson looked every bit a deputy marshal with a shave, his hair combed, his badge on, wearing a clean shirt, sitting in the saloon. He said, in his young-sounding voice, “Marshal, I can’t explain it. At first, I think they were confused about who I was. They took me and showed me their trophy room and I saw their plaque they had for you. I hadn’t talked to them very much at that point. That’s when I pulled my gun and said they were under arrest.”

Longarm said gently, “Only you weren’t ready to make it stick?”

Henderson looked down. He said, “I guess not.”

Longarm nodded. “And what happened then?”

Ross Henderson looked away, but he said, “That’s when Asher Nelson came toward me telling me I wouldn’t shoot. He said I wasn’t the kind that would shoot, that my mother had taught me better, that I would go to Hell if I did, and that I was too nice.”

“How old are you, Ross?” said Longarm.

“I’m twenty-seven, Deputy Long.”

“You look about twenty-one. How long were you a law officer before you applied to the Marshal Service?”

Henderson said, “I was a deputy sheriff for four years in Topeka, Kansas.”

Longarm wanted to roll his eyes. Topeka wasn’t exactly the hellhole of the world. There were probably only two people a week that got arrested there for being drunk—not drunk and disorderly, just drunk. “So the service took you on?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Tell me, Ross. Have you ever shot anybody before?”

Henderson shook his head slowly from side to side. “No, sir.”

Longarm said, “Have you ever pulled your gun before?”

Again Henderson shook his head. “Oh, I pulled it once or twice, Marshal Long, but I knew I wasn’t going to have to use it. I knew I could have taken whoever it was with just my hands. I was just practicing.”

Longarm was silent for a moment. Then he said, “There are two kinds of people in this world, Ross. Both kinds can pull a weapon, but only one kind can use it. Now, you look like a deputy marsh al ought to look, but I don’t think you can pull the trigger. I know a little man. I’ve known him a long time. Wringing wet once upon a time, he wouldn’t have weighed thirty pounds, but he was probably the last fellow in the world that you wanted to fool with. He’s your boss and mine, Billy Vail. When that revolver of his came out of that holster, you had better not be standing in the way because it was fixing to go off. Son, what I’m trying to say is that not every man is intended to be a lawman. I’m not going to tell you your business, but I don’t think you ought to be one.”

Ross Henderson looked down at the beer in front of him. He hadn’t tasted it yet. He said, “I appreciate what you’re saying, Deputy Long, but I like being a United States deputy marshal. I like it.”

Longarm reached into his pocket and pulled out a little sack. It had $2,000 in gold coins in it. He pitched it to Ross Henderson. The young man looked at it, then opened it, and looked inside. He glanced up at Longarm questioningly.

Longarm said, “That’s for you.”

“But it’s your money.”

“I know whose money it is, but I’m giving it to you.”

“What for?”

“Because, son, one of these days, one of two things are going to happen. You’re going to be in another situation where you don’t pull the trigger, and you’re going to need that two thousand dollars to leave to your kin. Or one of these days, you’re going to come to your senses and realize that you shouldn’t be a lawman, and you’re going to need that money to make yourself a new start.”

Henderson looked at him. He said, “I don’t know what to say. You’ve got me all confused.”

Longarm stood up and put on his hat. He said, “I’ve got a train to catch, Ross. You sit there and think about it. From time to time, we are all confused.” Then he walked out the door, heading for the depot. Here and there, he could still see the posters that offered $10,000 for his capture. What the posters didn’t say was that there was no one left to pay off the reward.