Longarm & the Double-Barrel Blowout

“I’m sorry I can’t unsaddle you and put you in some pen to roll around in tonight,” he told the weary animals, “but I’ll make up for it tomorrow morning.”

Longarm made sure that each horse was taken care of and then, feeling his own exhaustion, he trudged back into the hotel, wanting nothing more than a hot bath, a bottle of whiskey, and then a long, restful sleep.

“Marshal?”

“Yeah?” he said, turning to the clerk.

“I suppose that it’s too much to hope that you will pay for your stay here with more Spanish gold coins.”

Longarm paused in the middle of the lobby. In truth, he wasn’t sure how he would pay for the rooms, but neither was he worried. It was something he could think about after a few days when his mind and body had rested.

“What about Mr. Potter?”

“The banker?”

“That’s right.”

“He died of his gunshot wounds.”

“Did they ever reopen his bank?”

“As a matter of fact, they did,” the clerk said.

This was good news. Maybe now Longarm could finally get his hands on the government travel money that Billy Vail had promised to wire.

“And what about the banker’s fiance, Miss Victoria Hathaway?”

“The one you rescued.”

“The same.”

“Well,” the clerk said, “after you left, she rested for a few days then traveled up to Prescott for her fiance’s funeral. She looked very weak and tired, but insisted that she be there when her fiance was put to his final rest.”

“Then what did she do?”

“Miss Hathaway returned here and, as far as I know, she is recuperating with a friend over on Third Street.”

“With a lady friend?”

“Of course!” The clerk looked shocked by this question, but the hour was late and Longarm was in no frame of mind to be subtle.

“Who is this lady?”

“Her name is Ann Reed and she is a widow. Considerably older, I might add, but quite popular here in Wickenburg because of her good deeds and work-“

“How can I find them?” Longarm interrupted.

“Mrs. Reed lives in a small but comfortable brown and white painted Victorian. It’s on Third Street, just a block north and two blocks west.”

“Thanks.”

“Shame about Mr. Potter,” the clerk said as Longarm was about to go. “He was a fine, well-respected man in this part of Arizona. Very successful too. I’m sure that Miss Hathaway is deep in grieving.”

“I’m sure that she is,” Longarm replied.

“Oh, one other thing,” the clerk said. “It’s none of my business, but everyone knows that you and Preacher Dan went out hoping to discover that lost Spanish treasure. I don’t mean to pry, but-“

“Then don’t,” Longarm said coldly. “Just send up a couple of bottles of whiskey and a hot bath.”

The desk clerk blushed. “Sure, Marshal,” he snapped as he turned to holler for someone other than himself to start heating up the bath-water.

Longarm went back to check on Dan. The old prospector and preacher was pale and needed food and rest, but a little whiskey first might be just the tonic he required. Longarm figured he was in need of some whiskey too. It had been a rough damned week but not a bad one. They’d found the Spanish gold, put the mysterious disappearance of Jimmy Cox sadly to rest, and he’d killed five outlaws. Other than Hank Bass himself getting away, everything had gone extremely well and Longarm knew that he had no complaints coming.

There was a door connecting their two rooms, and Longarm left it open. It took nearly an hour for the bath to be drawn and his tub filled, but Longarm didn’t mind. He sipped whiskey and rested, then took his bath and felt like a new man. Tomorrow, he’d shave and get a badly needed haircut and fresh change of clothes after he figured out a way to get his government money sent from Prescott. Until then, he could sell the two extra horses and saddles and get by just fine.

Longarm fell asleep within seconds after he climbed into bed. He ached everywhere and couldn’t remember when he’d been any more beat and scratched up than he was now. But tomorrow everything was going to start getting better.

Much, much better.

Longarm awoke just before dawn hearing movement in Dan’s adjoining room. He heard whispered voices, then a boot bump into a table or chair followed by a low oath.

Longarm reached for his six-gun, which was hanging on the bedpost. He eased the gun out of its holster and then slipped off the bed, figuring that the intruders were after the Spanish treasure. Well, they were going to get a lot more than they bargained for when he stepped into Dan’s room with his six-gun in his fist.

“Dammit!” one of the men hissed. “I can’t see anything in here because it’s so dark!”

“Hey!” another cried. “I found something. It feels like … like an old metal box! And it’s real heavy!”

“Where?!”

“Over here!”

“Dammit, light a match but watch out! If that big marshal wakes up, we’re going to have to kill him before he kills us first.”

Longarm stifled a grunt of pain as he began to tiptoe forward toward the adjoining doorway. It was dark, and when he reached the door, he paused for several moments until a match flared and Dan’s room suddenly became illuminated.

There were three men, and one of them was Hank Bass! Longarm couldn’t help but grin as he raised his gun and said, “All right, boys, party is over. Throw up your hands!”

Bass jumped behind one of his companions and opened fire. Longarm shot the unfortunate man that Bass was using as a shield but had to duck back into his room for cover. In the next few moments, all hell broke loose. The match went out and the rooms were plunged into darkness. Longarm dropped to the floor and fired blindly into Dan’s room, more than a little afraid of accidently hitting the preacher, especially if the gunfire roused old Dan and he tried to leave his bed.

Glass shattered but Longarm was still getting return fire until he took a bead on a muzzle flash and ended the fight. A low grunt of pain and then the sound of a body striking the floor confirmed that a second outlaw was either wounded or dead. But that was a very important or, so Longarm wasted precious moments holding his breath and trying to figure out whether or not it was safe to enter Dan’s bullet-riddled room.

“Dan! Dan, are you all right?!”

When there was no answer, Longarm felt a chill of dread pass through his body. He took a deep breath and rushed into his friend’s room still half expecting to be shot at by one of the fallen outlaws.

Longarm put a match to Dan’s bedside lamp and sighed with relief. Dan had apparently drunk a good deal of his own bottle of whiskey and had fallen back into a very profound slumber. Fact was, he’d slept through the entire fray and was still asleep. Longarm made sure of that after taking Dan’s pulse and finding it both slow and steady. The lid of the treasure box was open and there were gold coins spilled across the floor and over to the shattered window.

Bass could not have taken more than a handful of the Spanish coins but, dammit, the outlaw had escaped again. His human shield was riddled with Longarm’s slugs, and the other man that Longarm had dropped was barely alive. Knowing that the dying outlaw might be able to give him a few important clues as to where Bass might go, Longarm tried to plug up a hole in his chest and revive him with a few gulps of whiskey.

“Who are you?!” Longarm demanded when the dying outlaw’s eyes fluttered open. “Where did Bass go?”

In reply, the outlaw tried to spit in Longarm’s face. Dropping the man’s head back to the floor with a loud thunk, Longarm watched as the outlaw’s body began to convulse and his boot heels pounded the wooden floor. There would be no answers from this man. None at all.

Longarm collected the scattered gold coins and returned them to the metal box. He grabbed up the whiskey and took a deep drink, then heard many footsteps pounding up the hallway.

“It’s over!” Longarm said, pushing the treasure box under Dan’s bed. “I’m a United States marshal and I want everyone to go back to bed!”

There was some disgruntled talk in the hallway, but things quickly quieted down. Longarm regarded the two dead men and, because he knew it would be hopeless to try to catch Bass, he went back to bed himself.

Chapter 16

When Longarm awoke late the next morning, there was a small crowd down in the street near his horses. Longarm yawned and peered at them through his window. When the crowd noticed him, one of its members pointed and shouted.

“There he is! It’s the marshal!”

Longarm pulled the curtain shut and went next door into Dan’s room. The preacher was snoring away and his color was quite good. Longarm checked Dan’s whiskey and discovered that the level of the bottle had dropped several inches. In fact, the better part of it had been consumed, telling Longarm that, preacher or not, Dan had a strong appetite for liquor.

The outlaws were still lying on the floor, and Longarm determined that his first order of business should be to remove them to the hallway where an undertaker could take care of that unpleasant business.

Opening Dan’s door, he dragged the two men out to the hallway where he immediately confronted the hotel clerk and an older man who identified himself as the owner of the Trevor House.

“My name is Tidwell,” the man said. “And, Marshal, I’m afraid that I’m going to have to ask you and your friend to leave this establishment at once.”

“Oh? And why should I do that?”

Tidwell was a large, heavy man with a red bulbous nose and gray hair. He had probably once been quite an imposing figure, but now he just looked old and bloated. Even so, he was not a man who was afraid of expressing his thoughts.

“My hotel is my livelihood, sir. You come here and, in one night, destroy the reputation that I have created for this hotel over the past twenty years! We have never had so much as a brawl, let alone two killings!”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Tidwell, but I had no choice. These dead men broke into our room in the middle of the night and would have killed both of us except-“

“Except that you killed them first.”

“That’s right.” Longarm’s own tone of voice took on a hard edge. “It was self-defense, Mr. Tidwell, and I acted in the line of duty.”

“Fine! But do your line of duty somewhere else,” Tidwell snapped. “Marshal, you and your wounded friend are no longer welcome in this hotel. Please find other accommodations.”

Longarm had a very powerful urge to tell this overstuffed and self-important man to go to hell. On the other hand, he knew that his presence was a magnet for trouble. Tidwell obviously wanted to attract a high caliber of guests, and the fact that two men had just died in this hotel was not likely to help him achieve his aims.

“All right,” Longarm said. “We’ll leave as soon as we can find another couple of rooms.”

“No,” Tidwell insisted, “you’ll leave now.”

Longarm almost grabbed Tidwell by the shirtfront but somehow managed to control his anger enough to repeat, “When we find another place to stay, we’ll leave. But not until then, Mr. Tidwell. I hope you understand.”

“I don’t, and I doubt very much if you can find any hotel in Wickenburg that will take you in, given what occurred here last night.”

“That would be unfortunate … for all of us,” Longarm said, spinning on his boot heels and going back into his room, slamming the door shut behind him.

Longarm repacked his gear and made ready to go in search of a hotel where Dan and he could recuperate. He shaved and dug out the last clean shirt in his bag, then listened to his belly growl with hunger. Going next door, he roused Dan from his sleep and said, “I have to go out and find us someplace else to stay.”

Preacher Dan’s eyes were a little bloodshot from the whiskey, but his color really was quite good. He yawned and asked, “Where are we?”

“This is the Trevor House. Three men came in here last night through your window. Two of them are dead and the third was Hank Bass.”

“He got away?”

“Yeah,” Longarm admitted. “I’m afraid he did. And maybe worst of all, he found our treasure box and got a fistful of coins. So you can bet that he won’t leave us alone.”

Dan was wide-awake now. “He’s got more blood-suckin’ friends than a dog has fleas. What are we going to do?”

“I’m not sure yet,” Longarm admitted. “I think that the first thing I need to do is to get you out of danger.”

“Hell, I’m not afraid to die! I’m old and shot up already. It’s you that needs a hiding place.”

“I’m not in the habit of hiding,” Longarm said stiffly. “Never have been.”

“Then this should be a first,” Dan argued. “Can’t you wire your federal friends for some help?”

“I could,” Longarm said, “but no one would get here before the shooting was over. That being the case, whatever will happen will happen. It’s up to me.”

“I’ll help.”

Longarm smiled. “What about your … aversion to taking another human being’s life?”

Dan closed his eyes for a moment, then said, “I was being self-righteous and trying to make up for some past mistakes. I don’t think that the Lord will condemn any man for trying to save his own hide.”

“Neither do I,” Longarm agreed. “And as for finding a room or-“

Longarm’s words were interrupted by a faint knock on his door. He turned and shouted, “Go away!”

“It’s me, Victoria Hathaway. Please let me come inside.”

Longarm hurried over to open the door, and the woman immediately threw her arms around his neck and hugged him very tightly. “I heard about last night, Custis! I was so upset and worried for you.”

“What about me?” Dan asked from his bed.

Longarm disengaged from the lovely woman. “Victoria, this is my friend, Preacher Dan. He and I have been through quite a lot in the last few weeks.”

“I can see that you have,” Victoria said, pretty eyes shifting back and forth between them. “Custis, you’ve lost ten or fifteen pounds.”

“I suppose so.”

“And you’re both wounded.”

“Just scratches,” Longarm assured her. “But we’ve also been evicted, and I was just about to tell Dan to keep his eye on things while I went looking around for another place for us to stay while we sort things out and try to lick our wounds.”

“I have just the place in mind,” Victoria said. “That’s part of the reason I came here.”

“You do?”

“Yes. I’m staying with a friend and …”

“That won’t work,” Longarm said quickly. “If Hank Bass gathers more men and comes hunting for me, that would be one of the very first places he’d come. You and your friend could be shot by accident. I can’t take that chance.”

“Would you please allow me to finish?”

“All right.”

“As I told you on the train, I have investments in this part of the country and one of them is a mining shack about ten miles northwest of town. There’s water and a mine that has run out of gold, but not before I recouped my investment five-fold. It would be a perfect hideout for us.”

“What do you mean, ‘us?’”

“I mean that I won’t just sit back and allow you to face Hank Bass alone. I would insist on being with YOU.”

“Not a chance!” Longarm exclaimed. “Forget that idea. I’ll find a hiding place in Wickenburg.”

“No you won’t,” Victoria told him. “Everyone in town is scared to death of Hank Bass. No matter that you have killed most of his gang. They’re still afraid and know that, given his reputation and the smell of Spanish gold, outlaws will flock to his side.”

Longarm frowned. “You paint a very grim picture.”

“Hank Bass and his gang shot my fiance to death. Never mind that I wasn’t very much in love with him—he still didn’t deserve to die.”

“No, he did not.”

“And then …” Victoria said, her voice catching with emotion and tears filling her pretty eyes, “they raped me as if I were some …”

“Stop it,” Longarm said, pulling the woman to his chest and squeezing her tight. “What happened can’t be changed, but what matters is that you know that you have nothing to be ashamed about. Nothing at all.”

“I know,” Victoria choked, “but it would help if Bass were dead.”

“Maybe it would also help you to know that Dan and I managed to gun down his gang. The ones that violated you, Victoria.”

“You did?”

“Yes.” Longarm tipped her head back and used his thumb to wipe away her tears. “There’s only Bass left to pay for what happened. And I swear that I’ll kill him. There will be no arrest.”

Victoria kissed Longarm’s mouth. Kissed him hard and with great passion. When she pulled back, she whispered, “That’s for what you are and what you said you’ll do.”

“Heavens to Betsy!” Dan exclaimed from his bed. “Can I get kissed like that too?”

“No,” Longarm said with a smile. “You’re too old and you’re a preacher, remember?”

“Bible says nothing against getting kissed.”

“Shut up,” Longarm told the old man without any heat in his voice.

“My prospector’s shack,” Victoria said, “will be perfect, and you do need a sanctuary.”

Longarm’s smile faded. “I just can’t allow you to come there with us, Victoria. I’m going to have enough to worry about taking care of my own problems. Can’t you understand that?”

“Yes, I can.”

“Then you agree?”

“All right. Whatever you say.”

Longarm hugged her tightly. “Good! Now all we have to do is figure out how to get to your claim without being seen by anyone—no easy task.”

“You’ll have to sneak out through the back alley,” Victoria said. “And maybe a diversion would help.”

“What kind of a diversion?”

“I don’t know. How about a fire?”

“Are you serious?” Longarm knew that fires could sweep through a clapboard town like Wickenburg in minutes. They were the scourge of all frontier settlements.

“My friend has an old barn that sits alone in the back of her yard. We could set it on fire. It wouldn’t pose much of a threat to anything nearby, but the volunteer fire department would come running and so would everyone else.”

“That would be perfect!”

“All right then,” Victoria said. “I’ll draw you a map to that mining shack and then set the fire.”

“Set it at high noon,” Longarm told her. “We’re going to need a little time to get things ready to leave.”

Victoria nodded, then she dragged a pencil and paper from her pockets and proceeded to draw Longarm a map that would lead him to her hidden mining shack in the mountains.

“Any chance you could get us a buckboard and canvas to cover Dan when we leave?” Longarm asked. “He’s not up to riding a horse and-“

“Sure I am!”

“No, you’re not,” Longarm countered. “And a travois would leave tracks that even a half-blind man could follow.”

“How about a carriage and two-horse team?” Victoria asked. “Would that be all right?”

“It would be just fine.”

She sighed. “Then that is the first thing that my friend and I will do.”

“Tell Mrs. Ann Reed that I’ll never be able to thank her enough.”

“Me neither,” Dan said.

“How did you know my friend’s name?”

“The desk clerk told me last night when we came in. I was going to pay you a quick visit once things settled down and I had taken care of our horses.”

“Ann is a saint and I’ve told her all about you,” Victoria said. “She also hates Hank Bass. He is the reason that she is a widow.”

Longarm nodded with understanding. “It sounds to me like Bass has made a lot of widows in this part of Arizona.”

“He’s made his last,” Victoria said with a firm set of her jaw. “And, Custis, if he kills you before you can kill him, I’ll find a way to settle the score. I swear it!”

Longarm believed her. There was a lot of hatred and pain in Victoria, but also a lot of courage and determination. It was clear from the look on her pretty face and the tone of her voice that she was not bluffing.

Victoria kissed Longarm good-bye and then, because Dan looked so envious, she leaned over and gave him a nice kiss on the forehead and said, “You both watch out for each other.”

“We will,” Dan promised.

After Longarm was sure that he understood her map, Victoria hugged him again and then she hurried away. Longarm stood beside his window and watched her cross the street. She was even more beautiful than she was daring and courageous, and that was really saying something.

“You are a lucky dog,” Dan said. “I never in all my life had a woman that pretty kiss me like she kissed YOU.”

Longarm shrugged.

“If I had, I’d have married her,” Dan said.

“She was engaged to be married.”

“She’s not anymore,” Dan said. “But she won’t last long out in this part of the country. You can bet that every eligible bachelor in northern Arizona will want to court her.”

Longarm watched Victoria disappear around a building and then he turned back to Dan, smiled, and said, “You know something, I like you better when you are asleep.”

Preacher Dan cackled, then closed his eyes and did go back to sleep.

Chapter 17

At high noon, the fire bell rang out sharply and Longarm went to his window to see everyone scattering down the main street of Wickenburg. A few blocks away, he watched a plume of black smoke billowing into the clear blue sky and knew that Victoria had kept her promise.

“It’s time,” he said, going over to help Dan. “Let’s get out of here.”

“What if someone comes in and takes that treasure chest while you’re helping me down to the carriage?”

“Well,” Longarm said, “if you want, you can hang on to it and I’ll hang on to you and we won’t have to worry about that.”

“Sounds good,” Dan grunted.

Longarm picked up the treasure chest filled with the Spanish gold coins. It probably weighed thirty pounds and he really wondered if Dan had the strength to hold it, but that doubt was soon erased. Dan hugged that treasure chest like a pretty woman, and they made their way out of the room and then down the back stairway to the alley.

“There it is,” Longarm said, grinning. “Just as promised.”

Longarm helped Dan into the carriage. “Lie down on the floor,” he ordered, covering the man and the treasure chest up with a big purple blanket. “I’ve got to go back up to our room and get my rifle, shotgun, and a few other things that I can’t afford to leave behind.”

“Hurry back!”

“Don’t worry,” Longarm promised. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

Longarm returned to his room. He had already arranged everything he needed to take so that it only took a moment to gather his bags and weapons, then he hurried back to the alley, his mind racing as fast as his feet. He tried to prepare himself for anything that might go wrong while attempting to leave Wickenburg undetected.

The carriage was gone!

Longarm couldn’t believe his eyes. The alley was empty. What in blazes was going on here?! He followed the tracks out into the street, still hearing the loud clanging of the fire bell. A volunteer fire company of six men pulling a water wagon careened around a corner and almost trampled Longarm. No one seemed to notice him; everyone was running toward the fire, most with buckets of sand or water. Longarm had seen this kind of panic before. Frontier towns were extremely vulnerable to being razed by infernos.

There were so many people rushing toward the fire that Longarm had some difficulty following the carriage tracks, which were already being trampled into oblivion. Still, he could see that they were leading out of town heading north.

When Longarm reached the end of town, he staggered to a standstill and gazed out at the northern horizon. He couldn’t see anything. Whoever had taken the carriage had driven it out of Wickenburg very fast and was no doubt already miles away and putting more and more distance between him and Longarm with every passing moment.

Longarm wheeled around and studied a pair of horses tied in front of a saddle shop. Stealing a horse was a hanging offense, but he was a United States marshal and had the authority to take extreme measures during times of great emergency. Well, this was sure as hell an emergency. Longarm chose what appeared to be the biggest and strongest of the pair, then used an extra few minutes to tie his saddlebags and shotgun down. Satisfied, he untied a muscular but jug-headed bay horse and climbed into the saddle with his Winchester clutched in his left hand and the reins in his right.

“Ya!” he shouted, booting the bay into a gallop.

The horse was no prizewinner, but it quickly proved it had excellent speed. Trouble was, the stirrups were far too short, so Longarm had a devil of a time riding after the carriage. Finally, he just let his feet dangle and pushed the bay gelding on to the north just as hard as it would run. And sure enough, in less than two miles he saw the distant outline of the carriage.

Longarm really worked over the bay, and the animal soon closed in on the carriage, whose team was already badly winded.

“Stop!” Longarm shouted.

The carriage slowly came to a stop, and when Longarm drew up beside it, he had his second big surprise of the day. There was no driver and the Spanish treasure box was open and empty. Dan lay sprawled and unconscious on the floor of the carriage.

“Damn!” Longarm swore, leaping from his saddle and tying the bay gelding to one of the wheels before he dragged Dan back up to the seat.

The old man had been savagely pistol-whipped. Longarm felt for Preacher Dan’s pulse, afraid that someone might have finished him off once and for all. Dan was still alive. There was a canteen in the carriage, and Longarm used its contents to wet his handkerchief and then to slowly revive the unconscious preacher.

“Dan! Dan, wake up! Can you hear me?”

“Yeah,” Dan whispered, his voice groggy.

“Who did this?”

“I … I don’t know. I was hiding under the blanket, remember?”

“And you saw or heard no one?”

“Nothin’,” Dan said, still trying to focus. “I was waiting for you to come back, and then next thing I know, you’re here and my head feels like it is busted.”

“Someone tricked us,” Longarm said, shaking his head back and forth. “The Spanish treasure box and all its gold coins are gone.”

Dan’s eyes popped open and he looked down between his feet at the floorboards. “Gone?”

“That’s right,” Longarm replied. “All gone.”

“Well, who could have-“

“Maybe Victoria,” Longarm said, finding it very hard to believe.

“No!”

“Then who the hell else?! Victoria Hathaway was the only one who knew of our plan of getting out of Wickenburg without being seen. She alone had the knowledge of how to steal the treasure box.”

“I can’t believe she’d betray us.”

“Me neither,” Longarm admitted, shoulders slumping with dejection. “But women can be as cunning as a coyote, and there are plenty of bad ones. Maybe Victoria is one of them and her greed just got the better of her.”

“You’re wrong, Marshal. My guess is that she just made the mistake of telling a friend who told someone who told someone else.”

“We’ll find out what happened later. But right now, we need to go to that mining shack and gather our wits. Maybe I can sort things out and not make another big mistake.”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“Well,” Longarm said, feeling rotten, “it was more my fault than anyone else’s that I can think of.”

“Do you think it was Hank Bass who pistol-whipped me and took the treasure box?”

“I can’t think of anyone more likely,” Longarm replied. “Can you?”

“No.”

Longarm turned his stolen horse free and, sure enough, the ugly bay went trotting back to Wickenburg. He climbed into the carriage and drove on with Victoria’s map in his hand.

“Wait here while I check this out to make sure that we don’t get any more surprises,” he told his friend when they drew within a few hundred yards of the mining shack.

Longarm stayed low and tried to keep out of sight as he circled around behind the shack and then crept down to it with the big shotgun clenched in his fists. The shack and the nearby mine were empty, and there was no indication that anyone had been in the vicinity in a long time. Satisfied that he was not walking into a trap, Longarm returned to the carriage and drove it up to the shack, then helped Dan inside and made him as comfortable as possible.

“It’s pretty humble,” he told the preacher.

“Ain’t so bad,” Dan commented. “I’ve slept in plenty of worse places. In fact, most places I’ve slept in have been worse than this shack.”

Longarm looked around. There was a tin stove, some pots, pans, and eating utensils as well as a few cans of tinned goods. There was also mice shit and a thick coating of dust over everything. The cabin was quite small, less than two hundred feet square, but the roof was intact and it would offer them protection against the hard summer rain and sun.

“You take the bed,” he told Dan as he went outside. “I’ll get some blankets.”

“Wouldn’t mind having something to eat and some whiskey to wash it down with,” Dan said. “My head feels like it’s been hammered real hard.”

“It has been,” Longarm replied. “And if your skull wasn’t so thick, you’d be dead.”

Longarm got the fire going and boiled some beans and water for coffee. He opened a tin of peaches and fried some salt pork. Then he explored the area, finding nothing of interest. The mine went about thirty feet into solid rock, and someone had worked for a long hard time out in this desolate area. Longarm saw no signs of gold or silver, but he knew that there must have been some ore recovered from this claim or no one would have continued to work it so long or so hard. He found the usual rusty tin cans, a broken wheelbarrow, rotting rope and leather. It always amazed him how tenacious miners could be once they were bitten by the gold bug. Whoever had first established this isolated mining claim must have worked it for years.

As evening approached and the shadows grew long, Longarm tried to put his setback in perspective. Sure, he’d lost the Spanish gold, but he’d track Bass down and recover it soon enough. He determined that he would ride one of the carriage horses back into Wickenburg after dark and start asking questions. That was his plan until Victoria arrived just at sundown.

“Why did you come out here?!” Longarm asked, his voice sharp with disapproval.

“To see if I could help you,” she replied, dismounting. “And also to bring you some fresh supplies.”

“We can get by on what we have for a few days.”

Victoria’s anger flashed. “After this greeting, you may have to.”

“I’m sorry,” Longarm said, realizing he was not being very appreciative. “But Dan and I had a very bad surprise in the alley this morning.”

“What surprise?”

“Someone was aware of our plan and the diversion. The moment I left Dan, they pistol-whipped him and took the Spanish gold. They were also clever enough to drive the carriage north out of town, then leave it and escape.”

“What?!”

“You heard me, Victoria. Dan has a nasty bump on his head and the gold coins are all gone.”

“But who could have known about this other than the three of us?!”

“Your friend, Ann Reed.”

“I’ll forget you said that,” Victoria replied, face turning dark with anger. “Ann would never betray my trust.”

“Then she told someone else who took the information to Hank Bass,” Longarm said. “Because someone sure as hell had to make a slip of the tongue.”

Victoria expelled a deep breath. “I suppose that Ann could have had a slip of the tongue. She is so naive that she trusts everyone and has no secrets.”

“All right,” Longarm said, “let’s give Ann the benefit of the doubt and assume that she did make a slip of the tongue and it got back to Hank Bass, who saw his golden opportunity to grab our Spanish treasure. What is done is done and it can’t be helped. Tomorrow, I’d go after Bass, but I can’t really leave Dan here by himself.”

“Oh, sure you can!” the old preacher argued. “Marshal, I’ll be fine. But I’d be even finer if your pretty friend would stay here with me.”

“I can’t,” Victoria told him. “I’m going to help Custis find Hank Bass.”

“Oh, no!” Longarm objected.

“Oh, yes,” Victoria countered. “You need me.”

“Why?”

“Because, unlike yourself, I know almost everyone in this part of Arizona and I have enough money in my saddlebags to buy the information you’ll need to catch Bass.”

“Marshal,” Dan said, “those are pretty good reasons.”

“Yes,” Longarm had to agree, “they are. But, Victoria, things can go wrong. If you go with me, you could get shot, even killed.”

Victoria’s eyes flashed. “Hank Bass and his gang put me through hell and I’ll do anything and everything I can to see that he is brought to justice. You need MY help and it serves no good purpose to be stubborn.”

“All right,” Longarm agreed. “But only on the condition that you do exactly as I say.”

“I accept those terms,” Victoria said. “When can we start searching for Hank Bass?”

“We’ll leave tomorrow morning.”

“Fine,” Victoria said, nodding her pretty head. “Now, why don’t we get some food cooking and enjoy a campfire before we turn in for the night.”

Longarm thought that an excellent idea. Victoria soon proved herself to be a good cook, and it didn’t hurt a bit that she had brought an apple pie out for dessert. Dan consumed most of that, and then, with a loud and satisfying belch, he fell asleep. Since the night was warm, Longarm moved his bedroll outside and stretched out underneath the starry desert sky.

“Good night, Victoria.”

She came over to lie beside him. “Do we have to just go to sleep?”

“Isn’t that what you’d like to do?”

Her reply was a passionate kiss. “Does that answer your question?”

“It does.” Longarm studied her in the moonlight. “I just thought that, after what happened with Bass and his gang, that you’d …”

“I’d hate all men?”

“Yeah, something like that.”

“I hate men who act like animals,” Victoria said, unbuttoning Longarm’s shirt. “And after what happened to me, I want to thank you in the best way I know how. You really saved my life, you know.”

“I was acting in the line of duty, Victoria. You don’t owe me a thing.”

“Maybe not,” she said, beginning to work on his belt, “but I need to make love to a good and brave man like you. It would … cleanse me. Make me feel good again. Does that make any sense at all, Custis?”

“Yes, I suppose it does,” he replied, crushing her In his arms with his own passion rising to a fever.

Minutes later, they were making love, and Longarm found that he was not as tired or as battered as he’d thought. Victoria was passionate and more than eager to please. Longarm drove his rod into her and Victoria gasped with pleasure, then locked her lovely legs around his waist. After that, they both lost themselves in an intense pleasure that kept building and building until they were lunging and bucking and their passion was finally extinguished.

“You were even better than I thought you’d be,” Victoria later whispered in his ear.

“You should see what I can do when I’m rested.”

“I’m afraid that you’d quickly wear me out, Custis.”

“It would be fun to try.”

They lay content in each other’s arms until almost midnight, and only once did they speak and that was when Victoria asked, “Do you think we can find Bass and kill him before he spends all that Spanish treasure?”

“I hope so.”

“Me too. So much good could come of it despite its tragic history. I think that it should be used to save lives, or at least improve them.”

“That was Dan’s intention and I fully approve,” Longarm said. “Poor Jimmy Cox would have just spent it all in the saloons, but Dan will put it to good purpose.”

“If it isn’t all gone before we recover it.”

Longarm nodded and drifted off to sleep. He was too exhausted to ask Victoria where she thought they could best take up the notorious outlaw’s trail. Oh, well, they could talk that over tomorrow morning.

Chapter 18

Hank Bass had vanished like smoke in a high wind. Longarm and Victoria had returned to Wickenburg and done everything in their power to gain some hint of where the man had gone to hiding. But no one knew or was about to tell on the outlaw’s whereabouts. Part of it was fear, but Longarm wondered if Bass had simply holed up in some isolated place where it was very unlikely he would be found.

“He’s smarter than I’d figured,” Longarm said one hot afternoon as they left Tucson drifting south and asking questions of everyone they met. “Bass hasn’t even spent any of those gold coins.”

“If he did,” Victoria said, “he knows that the news of it would spread like a wildfire.”

“That’s right,” Longarm agreed. “But from what I can gather, Hank Bass is a man who likes to spend money on his pleasures, and so I can’t imagine that hewould be able to hold on to those gold coins for very long. Especially after he gets down near the border and starts to romancing his senoritas.”

“Custis, has it occurred to you that he might intend to ride deep into Mexico?”

“Yes, and the trouble is, I have no authority down there and in fact am not supposed to even cross the border.”

“But if he is in Mexico, we can’t just let him go free,” Victoria protested. “With all that Spanish gold, he may never return to the United States. Why should he take the chance of being caught or arrested?”

“He wouldn’t,” Longarm replied. “But we’ve learned from asking questions that Hank Bass likes beautiful women, liquor, and gambling. Any one of those can quickly drain away all of a man’s money. And I’ll tell you something, the Mexicans who live near the border are experts in separating a gringo from his dollars or his gold.”

“So are we going to ride all the way to the border?”

“I think that’s our best hope,” Longarm answered. “I don’t really know what else we can do. The last information we’ve gotten is that Bass was seen riding south. My hunch is that he did cross the border but that he’ll remain very near it. Most outlaws like to keep the border in sight—just in case some corrupt Mexican authorities attempt to extort them for their gold or American dollars.”

“I see.”

“I have a few old friends on both sides of the border near Nogales,” Longarm said. “If our man is anywhere near there, I’ll learn about it.”

“Would you go deep into Mexico after him?”

“You bet I would,” Longarm vowed. “After what he did to you and others, I’d not hesitate a minute to cross the border even if it meant risking my badge.”

Victoria reached out and took his hand. “I’m sure that we can find something to do while we wait for Hank Bass to come back from Old Mexico.”

Longarm read the wanton look in her eyes and he knew that Victoria was right and that they would have no trouble whiling away the time. The trouble was, Longarm was not an especially patient man and neither was his boss, Billy Vail.

He’d sent a telegram to Billy from Tucson, requesting additional travel funds and also sketching out his progress on the case. He’d told Billy he’d managed to put an end to the Bass gang, but that Hank was still on the run. Billy had replied in a terse telegram that made it clear he was not very happy with Longarm’s progress, but he had also forwarded another hundred dollars for travel expenses.

“Victoria,” Longarm said, “I’m afraid we’re about to receive some bad company.”

The three riders had appeared from behind a hill. Longarm rested his shotgun across his saddle horn, just in case. This was a cruel, rugged country and he was not about to take any chances, especially in Victoria’s company. She was a beauty and would be worth a small fortune to some wealthy Mexican rancher or official. The slave trade was nothing new in this desert southwest, and Longarm was making sure that he could protect Victoria.

“Trouble?” she asked, unable to hide her sudden anxiety.

“We’ll find out. I gave you a pistol, why don’t you slip it into your riding skirt … just in case.”

“All right.”

Longarm noticed that the three hard-looking riders reined their horses away from each other a few yards, which was definitely not a good sign. Two of them wore Mexican sombreros, but the one in the middle was a tall, bearded white man whose dress and saddle indicated he was a Texan.

“Victoria,” Longarm said without taking his eyes off the approaching riders, “did you just see how they fanned out a little?”

“Yes.”

“That’s almost a sure giveaway that they mean bad trouble,” Longarm told her.

“So what do we do?”

“Expect the worst. Damn, but I wish that I hadn’t allowed you to come this far south with me!”

“I’ll be all right,” she replied, voice sounding high and strained but filled with resolve. “I’ve got the pistol in my hand now and I won’t hesitate to use it.”

“Let’s just hope that it doesn’t come to that,” Longarm said as he drew in his horse and raised his hand in a gesture of peace and greeting.

The three riders didn’t acknowledge the greeting, but they finally did draw in their horses. The white man wore a battered old Stetson and he thumbed it back on his brow, then stared at Victoria with a thick-lipped and lecherous smile that made Longarm’s blood boil.

“Mister, do you have some problem with your eyes?” Longarm asked, ignoring the two Mexicans, who looked plenty dangerous in their own rights.

The white man finally tore his glance from Victoria and regarded Longarm. He was big, filthy, and missing his upper front teeth. Long wisps of dirty brown hair sprayed out from under his hat, and his shirt was unbuttoned almost to his navel so that his hairy chest glistened with sweat. Like the Mexicans, this man wore two pistols and had a rifle stuffed into his saddle boot. All three of them gave Longarm a cold stare that left little doubt of their sinister intentions.

“She’s real pretty,” the man with the Stetson finally said, grinning like a fool. “Prettiest woman I seen in a long, long time.”

“She’s mine,” Longarm said flatly. “And we’re on our way to Nogales.”

“Why?”

“What do you mean?” Longarm asked.

“If I had me a woman as pretty as this, I wouldn’t go anywhere! I’d just stay in bed with her until I was all fucked down to a nubbin.”

Longarm had heard enough. There was no longer any question that these three men would try to kill him and take Victoria and their outfit. And since that was the case, it was always better to start the play and give yourself the edge, especially when the odds were stacked against you.

“Victoria, are you ready?” he asked softly.

“I am,” Victoria said, her voice a thin whisper.

The big man cocked his head like a big vulture. “What are you both jabbering about?”

“This,” Longarm said, whipping the shotgun up and pulling the trigger.

The big man was knocked flying from his horse, and when one of the Mexicans proved himself very fast with a gun, Longarm used his second load even as he heard Victoria’s gun bark twice.

The battle was decided in just a few heartbeats, and then Longarm was dragging Victoria from her saddle and holding her tight.

“I feel like I’m going to get very sick,” she gasped, taking deep lungfuls of air. “I never killed anyone before.”

“It’s not something that you ever get used to,” Longarm told her. “But you did what you had to do.”

Longarm was about to say more, but the rider that Victoria had shot moved. Spinning Victoria around so that he shielded her body, Longarm put another slug in the bandito.

He holstered his gun and took Victoria back into his arms, saying, “Now you don’t need to get sick because I killed him instead of you.”

Victoria nodded but she still looked quite pale. “Can we just get out of here?”

“Sure,” Longarm said. “As soon as I catch up their horses and pack them to the nearest cemetery.”

“What will you do with their outfits?” Victoria asked.

“Sell ‘em because I’m underpaid and need the extra cash.”

Longarm reloaded his gun and then he went to round up the three horses. He soon had the bodies lashed down over their saddles, and a few hours later they delivered them to a small village named Arivaca. As expected, their appearance caused quite a stir in the little town. Longarm inquired about a local marshal and wasn’t a bit surprised to learn there was none.

“You got a cemetery over yonder,” he said, pointing. “Someone here must act as the undertaker.”

“Mr. Blades who runs the cafe,” the wizened old gent who ran the run-down livery and whose name was Willy said. “I seen them three dead ones plenty of times. Mister, you did this part of the country a favor by killing those murderin’ sidewinders.”

“I expected that I might have,” Longarm replied. “You interested in buying their outfits?”

“Ain’t got much money.”

“It won’t take much money,” Longarm answered. “Willy, just pay me fifty dollars each and they’re yours.”

“Thirty.”

“Forty or we take them on down to Nogales and double that price. The saddles are worth twenty all by themselves. And when you add in the blankets, bridles, and …”

“One hundred dollars and that’s all the money I have in this world. I swear it is!” Willy exclaimed.

“Okay, providing you give me some information.”

The old man squinted. “Information can get pretty expensive. What kind are you looking for?”

“I’m hunting for an outlaw named Hank Bass. I have reason to believe that he passed through here not long ago, probably on his way to Nogales.”

“Who are you, stranger?”

“I’m someone who has a score to settle,” Longarm answered. “And so does my lady friend.”

Willy glanced over at Victoria, who solemnly nodded in agreement.

“Hank Bass did you wrong, miss?”

“Yes.”

Willy shook his head. “I believe that. Hank Bass is a mean son of a bitch, if you’ll pardon my bad language. He’s beat up a few women in this town, but they weren’t ladies like you, miss.”

Victoria looked away quickly, but not before Longarm saw tears glisten in her eyes.

“Willy, how long ago was it that Hank Bass traveled through here going toward Old Mexico?”

“He only left about four, no, three days ago,” Willy said after a moment of reflection. “He caused quite a commotion ‘cause he was spending some real Spanish gold coins.”

“is that right?”

“For a fact. I expect the whores and the saloons all got their share for letting him raise hell.”

“Did he say he was on his way into Mexico?”

“Sure did! But he’ll probably never get across the border.”

Longarm was caught by surprise. “Why not?”

“Because every bandito in Mexico will be watching and waiting to get him in their gun sights. You can be sure that the word is out Hank Bass is carrying a fortune in gold coins. I expect someone will ambush the fool the very minute he crosses the border.”

Longarm frowned. “Bass is anything but a fool. Maybe he’ll stay on this side.”

“Either way, someone will come gunning for him,” Willy reasoned. “Hank always came through this town with a bunch of men to back him up in any trouble. But this time, he was alone. He’s a mean, tough son of a bitch, but he can’t survive down here by himself. I’m telling you, stranger, someone will bushwhack him, that’s for certain.”

Longarm figured that Willy was right, which meant that Hank Bass needed to be overtaken as quickly as possible.

“We should push on now, Victoria.”

She sighed. “I’m very tired. Couldn’t we just spend one night resting?”

“You can sleep on fresh straw here in my livery for only a dollar,” the old man offered. “Safer here than in one of the hotels. A whole lot quieter too.”

“The horses do need a rest,” Victoria argued.

“All right,” Longarm reluctantly agreed. “But we’ll leave very early. No need for anyone in Arivaca to even know that we were here.”

“Now you’re talking,” the old man said as his chin bobbed up and down in agreement.

“Willy, go find me that hundred dollars. That way, I won’t have to awaken you early tomorrow morning.”

“That could be fatal,” Willy drawled. “So I’ll go get the cash right now.”

The next morning, Longarm arose at first light and got his horses saddled and ready to ride. Victoria was sleeping like a baby and he felt sorry to awaken her but there was little choice. Down in this country, the outlaw trail could run cold in a hurry, and Longarm still wasn’t entirely convinced that Bass wouldn’t cross the border into Mexico.

It was a hard twenty-five-mile ride down to the border town of Nogales, and both Longarm as well as Victoria were badly worn down by the dust and oppressive heat by the time they had boarded their horses and found a suitable hotel room. After a meal of beans, tortillas, and warm beer, they went to bed and slept until after dark. Then Longarm got up and prepared to go out hunting for Bass.

“You’re going to have to stay here,” he said. “These streets are no place for a decent woman.”

“But …”

“If I took you around to the places I’m going to visit,” Longarm interrupted, “I’d be fighting off crowds of men. No, Victoria, I insist.”

“But what if you run into Bass and are shot?”

“If I don’t come back tonight, come looking for me in the morning. Pay a couple of tough-looking men well to protect you and make your first stop at the undertaker’s. But don’t worry, I’ll find Hank Bass and he’s the one that will be getting his ticket punched for Boot Hill.”

“You sound so confident.”

“I guess I do,” Longarm admitted. “The fact of the matter is that I don’t allow myself to think about getting shot and killed. If I did … well, I just don’t.”

Victoria kissed him good-bye, and when Longarm got to the door, he said, “Keep this door locked. Under no circumstances allow anyone in but me. Is that understood?”

“Yes, of course.”

“And keep your gun handy.”

“I will,” she promised. “Please come back to me, Custis.”

“Count on it,” he vowed. “But if something should happen to me and-“

“It won’t!”

“But if it did. You go back to the livery and get the liveryman to saddle our horses. Then ride like hell back to where you came from and never look back.”

“I’m not sure that I could leave you behind.”

“Just do it!” Longarm ordered. “You promised you’d obey my orders if I let you come along. I expect you to keep your promise just as I’ve kept mine.”

“All right.”

Longarm left their hotel room and did not walk away from the door until he heard the distinct snap of the dead bolt in its lock. Satisfied, he headed out on the town. Nogales was just as wild and lawless on one side of the border as it was on the other. Longarm knew that he would be well advised to keep his hat pulled down low and his six-gun resting light in his holster. Above all, he needed to keep his United States marshal’s badge under cover.

Chapter 19

Longarm was in a deadly frame of mind as he prowled the American side of the border. He kept thinking about Jimmy Cox and how badly he’d been tortured before being killed. And about Victoria and how Hank Bass had fed her to his men like so much meat to dogs. One thing for sure, he would have no qualms about killing Bass on sight.

Saloons and cantinas lined the shabby streets of Nogales. Whores, drunks, gamblers, pimps, and all manner of degenerates prowled the dirty streets. Longarm kept his chin down when men saw him coming; they parted so that he could pass.

His routine was always the same. He would enter a saloon, order a whiskey, and take a sip. Then he’d lay a dollar down and tell the bartender, “I’m looking for Hank Bass. There’s twenty more of these if you can help me find him.”

No one could, until Longarm asked that same question at the Blanco Bar, one of the area’s most notorious watering holes known to be frequented by cutthroats, thieves, and murderers.

“What do you want to see that bastard for?” the bartender asked under his breath.

“I have a score to settle with him,” Longarm said, pretty sure this man’s hatred for Bass was genuine.

“So do I,” the bartender replied, “but I don’t have any urge to die. Do you?”

“I can handle my own business,” Longarm said. “Just point him out to me.”

“He’s with one of our whores,” the bartender said. “He went out the back door about ten minutes ago with a girl named Rita. He should be back soon enough.”

“How is he dressed?”

“Gray Stetson hat, black shirt, and boots. Haven’t you ever seen him before?”

“Yes, but the light is poor in here.”

“You’ll be able to smell the pig,” the bartender said with contempt. “He’ll also have a bottle of whiskey in his hand and Rita’s ass in the other.”

Longarm turned toward the back of the room. “That door?” he asked, pointing.

“Yes. Now move away from here so that if he plugs you first Bass don’t get the notion that I said anything. And try not to shoot the gawdamn place up, all right?”

“I generally hit what I aim for,” Longarm told the man.

“I sure as hell hope so. That bastard beat the hell out of me and cut off my ring finger. See that?”

Longarm studied the stub. “Why?”

“He liked the ring I was wearing! I wouldn’t give it to him so he sucker punched me and cut my damn finger off to get it!”

“Why didn’t you shoot him later?”

“He’s always had a lot of friends here before. But now he’s alone. Just step in behind Bass and drill him in the back. Do whatever it takes but don’t make a mistake.”

“I won’t,” Longarm promised as he moved off toward the back of the room.

Almost ten agonizingly slow minutes passed until Hank Bass charged back inside the saloon, dragging a Mexican girl in his wake. She was sobbing and her lower lip was running with blood. Longarm stepped in between the whore and the outlaw, drawing his gun.

“You’re under arrest, Bass. Don’t move or I’ll put a slug in you quicker than you can bat your eye.”

Bass was even bigger than Longarm, but hard living and heavy drinking had ruined his appearance. Even so, there was an animal-like quality about him that Longarm had seen in only the worst types of men.

“You’re a lawman?”

“Head for the front door under your own power, or be carried out by an undertaker,” Longarm said in a low, cold voice. “Your choice, Hank.”

“Hey!” Hank shouted. “This son of a bitch that is trying to arrest me is a United States marshal! Anyone in here like lawmen?”

Longarm realized his mistake at once. He should have pistol-whipped or even shot Hank Bass the moment he came through the back door. Now he was about to pay for his mistake.

“We’re going out back,” Longarm hissed, grabbing Bass by the shirt and dragging him toward the rear door. “Come on!”

But the outlaw wasn’t about to be pulled out into the rear alley. He struggled and would have broken free if Longarm hadn’t pistol-whipped him across the forehead so hard that his eyes crossed and his legs buckled.

“Stay back!” Longarm shouted as the mean-spirited crowd edged forward. “I mean it!”

Longarm wrapped his left arm right around Hank Bass’s neck and held off the crowd with his six-gun as he struggled out the back door. But no sooner was he outside than the crowd charged the door, and Longarm had no choice but to haul Bass up on his toes and open fire.

He didn’t know how many men fell under his gun, but it must have been several. Longarm did know that Bass took a fusillade of bullets to his chest and belly and was leaking like a sieve by the time he could drag him around the building and empty his pockets of whatever Spanish gold coins remained. There weren’t many, maybe twenty or so, but Longarm collected them as best he could in the darkness, then he sprinted off hearing shouts and more gunfire.

He wasted no more time and took no more chances. With a half dozen good lawmen, he might have stood a chance of cleaning out this festering hole of humanity. But by himself Longarm knew that he stood no chance at all. So he circled around to the front of the hotel, sprinted to their room, and pounded on the door.

“Victoria, it’s me! We’ve got to get out of here!”

She had the door open and was instantly in his arms. Longarm rushed into the room, grabbed his rifle and shotgun, then his saddlebags, and they took off running from the hotel.

Nogales was such a lawless town that a few gunshots did not arouse much attention. And maybe some of the Spanish gold coins were lying spilled around Hank Bass’s riddled body. Whatever the reason, Longarm and Victoria had no trouble getting to the livery and then riding hard out of town.

At daybreak, they stopped on a high, windswept ridge and gazed across twenty or thirty miles of desert toward Nogales and then on to Mexico.

Only then did Victoria ask, “What about the golden coins?”

“I was able to fill my pockets, but that’s all.” Longarm dug out one pocketful but kept the other. “Do what you want with them.”

“And what will you do with the ones you keep?” Victoria asked.

Longarm’s mind drifted back to Denver, and to Dolly. He recalled making a promise to that woman and said, “I think I’ll spend ‘em all in New Orleans.”

“I could go with you,” Victoria offered hopefully.

“Maybe next year, if you’re not married by then,” he said with a half smile as he reined north and put his horse into an easy gallop. “There’s always next year.”