155 Longarm and the Grave Robbers

“Vague? I heard him tell you that he bought most of his collection from locals who needed money.”

“Sure, but I had the feeling that he didn’t want to mention any names. Perhaps while I am gone tomorrow, you could ask around about who is selling to the man.”

“Gone?” Miranda stopped cold in her tracks. “Where are you going without me?”

“I want to visit the person who alerted my department about the possibility of thefts,” Longarm answered. “She has a ranch a few miles east.”

“Fine,” Miranda said. “We can both ride out there.”

“I’d rather that you didn’t,” Longarm said. “And besides, it will be a long ride up to Mesa Verde and it might do you well to rest up for it.”

“I suppose that is true.”

Longarm took her arm and started back to the hotel. Later, he would go to the telegraph office and send a message to Billy Vail, asking him to check the references of Drs. Lucking and Barker with Harvard University. If they really were on the Harvard faculty, he could probably eliminate them from suspicion. Probably, but not completely. However, if Harvard replied that they had never heard of either man, then it was almost certain that they were impostors and involved in the gang that was looting Indian artifacts.

“I liked Mr. Laird,” Miranda said. “You may be suspicious of him, but I’m not. I think he was quite honest with us.”

“Maybe,” Longarm said. “Maybe.”

Chapter 12

The next morning Longarm had ridden less than a mile out of Cortez when he saw a young woman and two old cowboys coming into view. The woman was riding a spunky sorrel mare, while the two hands were seated in a rickety buckboard wagon. She had long blond hair and blue eyes, and hid her figure well with an old leather jacket that was about three sizes too large. Longarm wondered if he’d just gotten lucky.

“Miss Mason?” he asked when he drew up alongside the woman and her buckboard. “Miss Candice Mason?”

“That’s right,” she said, eyeing him suspiciously, “and who the hell are you?”

“I’m a friend,” Longarm said, not wanting to let the two older cowboys know that he was a lawman.

“No, you’re not. You’re a stranger and you are blocking the road. Get out of our way.” One of her cowboys reached for a buggy whip, but Longarm said, “All right, Miss Mason, I work for United States Marshal Billy Vail, who sent me here to see if I could help sort out your troubles. I was just coming out to see you.”

Candice studied him closely. “Have you got a badge or anything to prove what you say?”

“Sure,” Longarm said, reaching inside his coat pocket, “but I’m traveling as a tourist and I’d like to keep my real identity a secret.”

“We can do that,” the driver of the buckboard said. “No problem.”

“Good.” Longarm showed them all his badge. “Now, Miss Mason, I’d appreciate it if we could have a private conversation.”

“Anything you have to say to me you can say to my men,” Candice told him. “I trust them with my life.”

“All right. I take it that you are going into Cortez, probably for supplies?”

“That’s correct.”

“Then I’ll ride along with you,” Longarm decided. “We have plenty to talk about.”

“Fine,” Candice told him. “I just wish that Billy would have sent two or three lawmen instead of one.”

“If I need help,” Longarm told her, “I can always send for reinforcements.”

“It took you a damn long time to get here,” Candice argued, “so what makes you think that reinforcements could save your bacon if you get in a fix?”

“Let that be my worry,” Longarm replied as he reined in next to the woman. “Why don’t you tell me everything that you know about this gang of grave robbers.”

Candice was quiet for a moment as she composed her thoughts. In the meantime, Longarm couldn’t help but stare because she really was a beautiful woman, although there was a hardness in her he found disturbing. Maybe it came from losing both her mother and father and from the heavy ranching responsibilities she had inherited. But whatever the reason, it was definitely present. “Lawman, what’s your name?”

“Custis.”

“Well, Custis,” Candice began, “what we have going on in this part of the state is a sophisticated bunch of grave robbers. We’re not dealing with just a couple of fellas with picks and shovels out to make a few extra bucks. No, sir! We have thievery on a grand scale.”

“I’ve been asking a lot of questions since I left Denver,” Longarm said, “and I know about those scientists up at Mesa Verde. Do you believe they are part of the gang?”

“Sure! They’re the ones that are doing the actual looting under the guise of science. But they aren’t real archaeologists.”

“How do you know that?”

“I just know,” Candice said. “And I’ve spied on them enough to learn that they are sending most of their stolen artifacts back to Durango on the pack animals that drop off their supplies.”

“Do those pack animals belong to an outfit called Mountain Packers?”

Candice actually smiled. “So, you have been asking some questions! And guess who owns Mountain Packers.”

“Mr. Laird?”

“Bravo!” Candice exclaimed. “But I am sure Laird has a partner in Durango. Someone who packs and routes the stolen artifacts to an international market.”

“What makes you think that?”

“It only makes sense that Laird would have a partner,” Candice said, shrugging her shoulders. “Of course, he buys and sells artifacts through his museum, but not nearly enough to make it profitable for an organized gang of thieves.”

“Have you ever followed Laird to Durango just to see who he might be dealing with?”

“No,” Candice said, “I’m much too busy trying to raise cattle and keep my ranch going. But I don’t think it would be hard for a man like yourself to do that.”

“This is all just conjecture, of course,” Longarm said. “We need some proof that the two scientists are fakes and that Laird is the go-between for a gang transporting and selling the treasures.”

“Why don’t you telegraph someone back East and have them check up on Barker and Lucking? I’m sure that Harvard has never heard of either man.”

“As a matter of fact,” Longarm said, “I sent a telegram off just before I left Cortez asking Billy Vail to do that very thing.”

“How is he?”

“Billy is fine. He sends his regards.”

“I never knew him very well, but my parents said that he once helped them out of some kind of bad fix.”

“Billy was a fine lawman during the years he was in the field,” Longarm told her. “It’s a shame that he settled for a desk job, but he seems happy and has a nice family.”

“Yeah,” Candice said, “I guess the life you lead wouldn’t be very good for a marriage or family, huh?”

“That’s right,” Longarm agreed. “It wouldn’t.”

She studied him with such frankness that Longarm felt a little uncomfortable. “Maybe you should find a new line of work, Custis.”

“Such as?”

“Do you know anything about cowboying or cattle ranching?”

“Nope. The only thing I know about cattle is that they taste good when they’ve been cut up and cooked medium rare.”

Candice laughed. “At least you are honest. But you’re still young enough to learn ranching.”

Longarm decided that the conversation was getting way out of hand. “I’m married,” he lied. “My wife is waiting for me at the Concord Hotel. A fella named Matt Horn is taking us up to Mesa Verde tomorrow.”

“You brought your wife?”

Candice looked appalled. Longarm tried to ignore that, and added, “Miranda is very interested in Anasazi artifacts, and she has always wanted to see the cliff dwellings.”

“That may be,” Candice said, “but it seems a little foolish to me to have her around when you are trying to find a gang of thieves who are probably also killers. I’d have thought that a man with your obvious experience would have known better than to bring along his wife.”

“Look,” Longarm said, “why don’t we just pretend that we don’t even know each other. I’ll ride on ahead and you and your buckboard can come in later. Tomorrow, I’ll let Mr. Horn take my wife and me up to Mesa Verde and I’ll do my best to find out what is really going on there.”

“That’s fine with me,” Candice said, “just as long as we agree that you’ll keep me posted on what you find and what you intend to do about it.”

“I’ll keep you posted,” he promised.

“All right, but I ought to warn you that this gang isn’t stupid. If you start asking questions, they’re bound to become suspicious, and then they’ll put a bullet through your brisket.”

Longarm tipped his hat to the ranch woman. “Thanks for the warning,” he said a moment before he set his horse into an easy lope heading back to Cortez.

He had unsaddled his horse and was headed for the hotel when Candice and her two old cowpunchers arrived in town. Longarm guessed he was the only man in Cortez who did not stare at the attractive young woman. Even wearing an old leather coat and with most of her blond hair bunched up under a soiled Stetson, Candice was a beauty. She had long legs, and rode her horse as if she had been born in the saddle.

“Ain’t she something, though?” a man standing beside Longarm said with unconcealed admiration. “Too bad she’s a damned man-hater.”

“Yeah,” Longarm replied before he wheeled around and went up to his hotel room.

“I didn’t expect you back so soon,” Miranda said when he entered their room. “I had the impression that you would be gone all day.”

“I would have been,” he said, “but I met the people I wanted to see coming into town for supplies.”

“Did you learn anything new?”

“Not much,” he said. “But I expect that we’ll know quite a lot more after visiting Mesa Verde and talking to those two Harvard archaeologists.”

“Are you hungry?” she asked.

“Famished,” he said, “for you.”

Miranda giggled and came into his arms. Longarm carried her to their bed and they made love until sunset, then went out to get some food to eat.

They went to bed right after dinner, and the next morning they were up quite early. According to their arrangement with Matt Horn, they were simply to pack their clothes and come over to the livery where he would be waiting to take them up to Mesa Verde.

“It’s chilly out this morning,” Miranda said as they moved across the nearly deserted street toward the livery.

“Yes, and imagine what it will be like up on the mesa,” Longarm said. “I have a feeling that we should have made this trip a few months earlier.”

When they reached the livery, they were surprised to find that it was dark and seemingly empty.

“This is odd,” Longarm said. “I had expected Matt and his brother to be up and about. Matt said that it was a two-day ride up to the cliff dwellings, and I can’t imagine why he wouldn’t be here.”

“Me neither,” Miranda said. “So what shall we do?”

“I’ll find a lantern,” Longarm said, striking a match. “And then we’ll go ahead and saddle the horses and do whatever we can to ready ourselves for the trip. Maybe Matt and his brother just overslept.”

Longarm held the match up and entered the livery barn. He heard a horse nicker anxiously, and then he saw a lantern hanging from a nail affixed to a thick post. Lighting the lantern, he adjusted the wick and removed it from its place. He’d just turned around to tell Miranda to come inside when something out of the ordinary caught his eye.

“Custis?”

“Miranda, just stay where you are for a minute,” he called, moving forward toward a pair of boots that were barely sticking out from under the gate of a nearby stall. “I’ll be right with you.”

The boots were attached to the body of Matt Horn. The guide’s throat had been cut from ear to ear, and blood covered the straw upon which he rested.

“Holy Moses,” Longarm whispered before he knelt beside the body and did a quick inventory.

Horn’s pockets had been rifled, and there was nothing of value on his person.

“Custis! What’s the matter in there!”

Longarm backed out of the stall and closed the gate behind him. He had a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach that Matt’s brother Joe was also dead. Miranda, meanwhile, had entered the livery, and when she saw Longarm’s expression, her hand flew to her mouth.

“I want you to wait over here,” Longarm said, leading the woman across the barn floor to a place near the door. Outside, the sky was turning a salmon color with sunrise.

Longarm made a quick search of the entire livery, and he found Joe’s body covered with hay, his throat also cut wide open. Like his brother’s, Joe’s body had been searched and robbed.

“Miranda,” Longarm said, “I’m afraid that Matt and his brother were both robbed and murdered sometime last night.”

“Oh, my God!”

“We’ll need to report this, of course, and get an undertaker out here as quickly as possible.”

“I don’t think that there is one in Cortez,” she told him. “And it’s probably too small to have its own marshal.”

“Then the nearest one will be in Durango,” Longarm said, thinking about Marshal Seth Palladin and wishing there were someone—anyone—else he could notify. The very last thing he wanted was to bring Palladin into this double murder.

“Let’s get out of here,” he decided aloud. “Let’s just take our horses and burro and ride on up to Mesa Verde.”

“And leave them here like this?” Miranda cried, her face reflecting horror. “Custis, we can’t do that!”

“We can’t do a thing for them now,” he said. “And while the murders appear to be robberies, that might not be the case at all.”

“You mean-“

“I mean that someone might not want us to reach Mesa Verde and is doing whatever they can to discourage us. That’s why I think we ought to just go on up while we still can. Someone will discover the bodies in an hour or two, and by then we will be well on our way.”

“All right,” she said, looking pale and shaken. “Let’s just go!”

They saddled their horses, found the gear that Matt had collected for their trip, and lashed it down on their burro.

“We’ll ride out the back way and then circle around south,” Longarm said, anxious to be out of Cortez and on his way to the cliff dwellings.

“I can’t believe that this happened,” Miranda said. “Matt was so young and strong!”

“I know,” Longarm said. “Whoever murdered him must have sneaked up behind him and killed him before he had a chance to fight back.”

“This is horrible!”

“It could get worse,” Longarm said. “Miranda, if you want, we could go back to Durango, I could put you on a stagecoach for Pueblo, and from there you could get to Denver.”

“No! I’m not going to run out on you now.”

“It would be the smart thing to do,” he told her.

“Smart thing or not, the answer is still no!”

“All right then,” Longarm said grimly as they pushed hard for the southern mesas. “We’ll just have to find our own way up to Mesa Verde and, once we arrive, take our chances.”

Chapter 13

The trail up to Mesa Verde was easy enough to follow, and two days later, Longarm and Miranda came upon their first Anasazi ruins.

“Would you just look at that!” Miranda cried with excitement. “It’s so big!”

These were mesa-top ruins, and Longarm had read enough about Mesa Verde to know that the Anasazi people had lived and farmed up on the flat mesa centuries before building their famed cliff dwellings.

When Longarm and Miranda reached what appeared to be an ancient village made entirely of rock, logs, and mud, they dismounted and stepped forward to investigate.

“How big was this?” Miranda asked, looking up at the high rock walls. “And how old?”

“I have no idea,” Longarm answered. “But it will be fun to have a look around.”

The ruins were silent and overgrown with grass and even some pinyon pines, yet they were substantial and still impressive with their stairways, round ceremonial pits, and sturdy rock walls. Longarm was greatly impressed by the industry of a people who must have labored for generations to create these silent stone edifices.

“Come this way,” he said, leading Miranda around a broken wall and then coming to the entrance of what appeared to be a corridor of small, dark rooms.

“I wonder how many people lived in this village,” Miranda said, ducking through a narrow doorway into the series of connecting compartments that were less than ten feet square.

“I would expect at least a hundred people once lived in this place,” Longarm said.

Miranda craned her head back. “Look how solidly they built their roofs. Why, I bet horses could have ridden over them and not fallen through.”

It was true, even if these people had lived in this place long before the Spanish conquistadors first brought horses to North America. The light was poor, but Longarm could see that the Anasazi had used logs to cover their rock-walled compartments, and then had filled in the roof cracks with mud mixed with leaves, grass, and bark, which had, in turn, been covered by a deep layer of rock and dirt. Most of the small rooms were connected by key-shaped doorways, which Longarm had trouble squeezing through because he was so much larger than the ancient ones who’d lived and raised their families there.

“I can almost feel their spirits,” Miranda whispered, kneeling and brushing the floor with her fingertips. “And just look at these dirt floors. They are as hard-packed as if they were composed of granite.”

Longarm ran his fingers down one of the old pine door frames worn smooth by the touch of countless hands over countless centuries. He inhaled deeply, feeling the aura of a long-lost people whose daily life he could not begin to imagine. Had they lived in these small, dim dungeons only during the coldest months of winter, and then lived outdoors the remainder of the year? Had each of these rooms had fires for warmth, and if so, where would the smoke escape and why weren’t there soot marks on the ceilings? Were these cold dirt floors once covered with animal skins, and did laughter resound through these stone catacombs as children played, women worked, and men went out to hunt? Probably.

Longarm marveled at the engineering and industry of these people. He did not expect to find artifacts because they would all have been picked clean by the discoverers and the first tourists. Yet he could not help but feel that, if he had but a few hours to spare, he could probe just a little here and there and be assured of making his own discoveries. Perhaps a burial site or a prized Anasazi weapon hidden in some crevice. Or a perfect piece of pottery such as he had seen at Laird’s museum tucked secretly away into some yet undiscovered niche or cranny in the stone walls.

Miranda shuddered. “I don’t understand why these people didn’t build window holes for sunlight,” she said.

“My guess would be that windows would have allowed more cold winter air and wind to get inside.”

“You’re probably right, but I need sunlight.”

“There’s a doorway in the next compartment,” Longarm told her. “We can climb out there.”

They exited into what Longarm guessed was once a second-story courtyard where women probably ground corn and prepared most of their meals. The enclosure was rectangular and about forty by sixty feet, sided by the crumbling remains of what had been third-story rooms. In one corner of the courtyard lay the ashes of a recent campfire, which Longarm judged to be a sad and irreverent reminder of his own far more acquisitive culture. The shards of broken whiskey bottles and the rusting tin cans made his lips curl with contempt.

“Plunderers,” he said, pointing to a large and offensive hole in the courtyard that someone had recently dug in hope of finding valuable artifacts.

“It’s a travesty,” Miranda said, “that anyone and everyone can just come up here and begin digging and tearing up these ancient ruins.”

“You’re right. When I return to Denver, I’m going to see what can be done to get Mesa Verde federal protection. These sites ought to be preserved for future generations.”

“I wonder if whoever dug this area up found anything especially valuable.”

“I hope not,” Longarm said, moving off to examine what he knew was called a kiva, an underground ceremonial chamber.

The kiva was impressive despite the fact that its roof had collapsed and the chamber was filled with rubble. Longarm could see the remains of what had once been a ladder. It was now rotted and broken, but still recognizable. A few minutes later, he climbed up to the pinnacle of a ruined tower, where he had a good view in all directions. Through the trees, he could see more ruins, and that made him realize that this mesa-top had probably served as the home for hundreds, perhaps even thousands of Anasazi.

Why, an archaeologist could spend his entire career up here discovering and excavating these ancient ruins, most of which must be hidden in these pinyon pine forests and buried just under the surface.

They spent more than an hour poking around in the ruins, and could easily have spent days. Miranda was especially excited when she found two very distinct petroglyphs where an ancient storyteller had once etched images of hunters and their quarry onto the surface of rocks.

“We’d better push on,” Longarm suggested. “I’ve a feeling that there are dozens of sites like this to be explored. However, I really would like to see a cliff dwelling before it gets too dark.”

“All right,” Miranda said. “I wonder where our mysterious archaeologists are camped.”

“I don’t know,” Longarm said. “From what I’ve learned, there are several mesas up here, all divided by deep, tree-choked canyons. It’s in those canyons that we will find the cliff dwellings. I’d guess that’s also where we’re most likely to find the Harvard archaeologists.”

“It’s too bad that we didn’t have time to get that telegram from Billy Vail that would tell us if they are legitimate.”

“I’m sure Billy’s telegram will be waiting for us when we return to Cortez. In the meantime, I think we’ll be able to figure out if Barker and Lucking are pretenders or not.”

They rode, seeing, and even passing close by, many crumbling ruins. Despite Miranda’s protestations that they linger to explore the mesa-top for a while, Longarm insisted that they keep moving until they came upon the cliff dwellings.

“They’ll be time enough to poke around up here once we find Cliff Palace and some of the other cliff dwellings,” he assured her.

“There had better be,” Miranda fussed, “or I’m going to be pretty upset-“

“Well, I can’t help that,” Longarm said with asperity. “You know that I’m up here on official business.”

“I know,” Miranda replied. “But-“

“There!” Longarm said, pointing. “I’ll bet anything that’s the canyon where we’ll see many of the cliff dwellings.”

It was a deep canyon, perhaps a quarter mile across and filled with oaks, brush, and pines. Longarm could see a riverbed snaking along the bottom. It was dry now, but probably filled with water every spring after the snows melted. The sand-, copper-, and crimson-colored walls of this wild and majestic canyon were almost vertical.

“There is a trail over here,” Miranda said. “It follows the rim south.”

“Then let’s keep our eyes peeled,” Longarm told her. “We ought to reach the camp pretty soon.”

A short time later, they intersected another trail, this one worn deeply by the hooves of pack animals, which Longarm figured were regularly supplying the archaeologists.

“I have a feeling that their base camp isn’t far now,” he told Miranda.

Sure enough, they came upon a spartan camp less than a half mile farther down the trail. There was a large tent, a crude table, two chairs, and a pile of wooden boxes and crates, but no scientists.

“Invited or not, we’ll spend the night here,” Longarm decided. “I expect that the Harvard people will return about sundown. In the meantime, I’ll check out their camp.”

“Are you just going to enter their tent and begin to snoop around?”

“Of course,” Longarm told her. “Why don’t you station yourself over there where that footpath leads to the edge of the cliff. I expect that’s the head of the trail that leads down to Cliff Palace or some other cliff dwelling that these men are excavating.”

“Do you think that-“

“Miranda,” he said, “please just do as I ask. I’d like to be warned before they just pop into view while I’m rifling their belongings searching for incriminating evidence.”

“All right,” Miranda said. “But what do I do if they suddenly appear?”

“Holler out a greeting and block their progress just long enough for me to get back out in the open,” Longarm instructed her. “That shouldn’t be so difficult.”

“Easy for you to say.”

“Just tie our horses up and follow that trail to the rim. It shouldn’t take me long to find out if these fellows are pirating artifacts or not.”

“I’ll bet the artifacts are going to Harvard University where they’re supposed to go.”

“I’ll take that bet,” Longarm answered, handing his reins to Miranda and hurrying off to search inside the tent.

In less than ten minutes, Longarm knew that Barker and Lucking were indeed members of the grave-robbing gang. Every crate was packed with skeletons and Anasazi artifacts, and there wasn’t a scrap of paper or a single shred of evidence that linked these two men with Harvard University. Instead, he found several notes and letters that left little doubt that everything being packed off this mesa was headed for wealthy private collectors. There were even several letters from wealthy collectors in Europe stating exactly what kind of Anasazi treasures they desired and the prices that they could pay for goods upon delivery to their countries.

Longarm was examining a collection of bows, arrows, and spearheads when he heard Miranda call, “Why, hello there!”

He quickly replaced the articles back into their packing crate, then carefully eliminated all evidence that he had been inside the tent and hurried back outside to sit on a rock and look bored.

Lucking was a big man in his early sixties with a gray beard and wire-rimmed spectacles. Barker was twenty years younger, of average height, and also bearded. Both men were trim and looked extremely fit, and very unhappy to see visitors, even one as pretty as Miranda.

“What are you doing in our camp?” Lucking demanded in a stern voice.

“We were just visiting,” Miranda said. “We had no idea that anyone was up here, and when we stumbled onto your camp, we thought that it would be fun to wait and visit.”

“‘Fun?’” Barker snapped, eyes boring into Longarm. “We aren’t here to have ‘fun!’ We are archaeologists, and neither Dr. Lucking nor myself appreciates complete strangers moving into our camp.”

“We didn’t ‘move into your camp,’” Longarm said, putting a little heat in his own voice to let these men know that he was not about to be cowed by their hostile behavior. “As you can plainly see, our burro hasn’t been unpacked. My wife and I were simply hoping we’d discovered a friendly place to camp. However, I see that you are not hospitable.”

Lucking had hurried into their tent, and Longarm could hear the man opening some of the very same crates that he had just opened and searched. When Lucking emerged from the tent, he demanded, “What have you been doing here in our absence?”

“Nothing,” Longarm said, trying to look as innocent as a child. “We’ve only just arrived, and I think that we will now be leaving. It’s clear to me and my wife that while you may be scientists, you are not gentlemen.”

He turned to Miranda. “Let’s go, my dear. We certainly don’t have to associate with these people.”

“I agree,” Miranda said, starting for her horse.

“Wait a minute!” Lucking said. “Perhaps we have been somewhat unsociable. I apologize. It would be acceptable if you camped here tonight. We have plenty of food, and even some after-dinner brandy.”

Barker appeared to be shocked by the older man’s offer. He started to protest, but Lucking ignored him and said to Longarm, “However, we will have to ask you to leave first thing tomorrow morning. Our scientific research leaves no time for social visits … as regrettable as that might sound.”

“You’re scientists?” Miranda asked. “How wonderful! Then I suppose that you can tell us everything about these ancient peoples.”

Lucking smiled coldly. “I wish that were so, Mis …”

“Long. I’m Miranda and this is my husband Custis.”

“A pleasure to meet you both,” Lucking said, glancing at his partner for a similar overture, but receiving instead a questioning frown.

“Why don’t you unpack your burro and make camp over near the rim where it’s flat,” Lucking suggested. “John and I will tidy up things and start a cooking fire. We have some delicious stew left over from yesterday. I hope that sounds good.”

“It sounds great,” Longarm said, only now realizing that they had eaten very little this day other than a few dried apples and biscuits. “We’ll be back soon.”

“Good!” the older man said before turning away to disappear inside the tent.

Longarm and Miranda made their camp about fifty yards from the pair, and Longarm explained to Miranda what he’d found in the tent. They took their time unpacking the burro and laying out their sleeping bags and food supplies. While doing that, Longarm could not help but be reminded of the murdered Horn brothers, and he wondered if this pair of impostors knew of their horrible fate. Probably not, for this was a very remote setting and Longarm doubted if anyone else was camped on this mesa.

“How are you doing, Miranda? Ready to play the ignorant dinner guest?”

“Not really,” she told him. “Actually, I’m scared half to death. I mean, they are so convincing.”

“Yes,” Longarm said, “and it’s quite possible that they actually are scientists who have simply chosen to trade their academic respectability for riches. We’ll find out soon enough how much they really know about the Anasazi.”

“Then you intend to question them?”

“Of course!” Longarm smiled. “At least enough to remove any doubt whatsoever as to their authenticity.”

“But you don’t know much about the Anasazi. How will you know if they are telling the truth or not?”

Longarm shrugged. “It’s true that I don’t know much about these people. But Miranda, it’s also true that a skunk always smells a bit rank, even when he doesn’t intend to smell. Believe me, I’ll know if these fellas are simply con men, or if they really do have some scientific training. I’ll know it right away.”

“And then?”

“Then nothing,” Longarm said. “We just play the part of the dumb and happy newlyweds off on their honeymoon. Tomorrow, we’ll go down into the canyon and visit a cliff dwelling or two, and then we’ll hang around for a couple of days waiting for Mountain Packers to show up to collect the goods.”

“What if they don’t come for weeks?”

“They will come a lot sooner than that,” Longarm promised. “I know because the packing crates are all filled and the food is almost gone. These two here need to be resupplied right away.”

“What happens when Mountain Packers arrive?”

“I haven’t decided yet,” Longarm answered. “We could arrest the whole bunch on the spot, but I think I’d rather follow that pack string back down to Durango, see who is waiting to collect the artifacts, then who they are being delivered to elsewhere in this country before being sent abroad. That way, we can identify and arrest the entire gang from top to bottom.”

“It sounds pretty dangerous.”

Longarm gave Miranda a hug. “Don’t worry, we’ll just follow the pack train down to Durango. Then, if I have no other choice, I’ll ask Marshal Palladin to help me make all the arrests.”

“I thought you held him in very low regard.”

“I do,” Longarm admitted, “but his presence might save me from having to shoot the ringleaders and then doing a lot of explaining. I’ve found, over the years, that it’s always a good idea to bring in the local law, even when they are inept and incompetent.”

“I see.” Miranda kissed his cheek. “So, we just go over there for some stew and pleasant conversation?”

“That’s right,” Longarm said. “And try to look relaxed and happy. I don’t want them to think that you’ve already decided you made a bad marriage.”

Miranda managed a laugh. “Okay, I’ll play the fool and try to keep my mouth closed.”

“Oh,” Longarm said, “You don’t have to do that. I know that you’ve plenty of questions to ask of your own concerning the Anasazi, and I urge you to ask them. If nothing else, it should make for a very interesting evening.”

“You’re right about that.”

A few minutes later, they strolled into the archaeologists’ camp, where they were treated graciously by their hosts. It was damned odd, considering how hostile the pair had been at first, but Longarm saw no point in bringing up that fact.

“So,” Longarm began, “you’re here to learn the secrets of these ancient Indians.”

“That’s right,” Lucking said, watching him closely. “Although I must admit, the secrets of the people who walked this mesa many centuries ago are still veiled by time and the elements. At best, my colleague and I will make a few minor discoveries before we are forced by winter to leave this mesa.”

“we were fortunate enough to speak to Mr. Laird down at his museum in Cortez,” Longarm said, “and I expect you probably know him.”

“Laird?” Barker asked, looking quizzically at his partner. “Yes, isn’t that the fellow that-“

Lucking wanted to change the subject. “We believe,” he said, “that these ancient peoples lived far longer up on this mesa than they did in their cliff dwellings.”

“What makes you think that?” Longarm asked.

“The extent of the ruins we are finding up here,” Lucking answered. “For example, we find layers of civilizations one on top of another, indicating that when a structure burned down or was abandoned to the elements, it was later reconstructed and inhabited. We have also found a very sophisticated canal system that was used to channel rain and spring runoff throughout all the fields.”

“What fields?” Longarm asked. “We saw no-“

“The fields,” Barker said, “are now all long since overgrown with stands of juniper, pine, and gambrel oak. You have to understand that this mesa has been abandoned for about a thousand years, give or take a few centuries.”

“Why was it abandoned?”

Barker was more than happy to give his theory, and it was about the same as what they had heard earlier at the museum. Basically, that Mesa Verde had probably been abandoned because of a Protracted drought coupled with deforestation, resulting in a lack of winter fuel and a general debilitation of the soil, which would, as any present-day farmer now understood, fail after repeated plantings of the same basic crops.

“I can imagine that the demise of Mesa Verde’s agriculture would have come about very gradually,” Lucking said. “Probably so gradually that it caused families to relocate over a long period of time rather than a mass, organized exodus of the entire Anasazi culture.”

“I see. Have you found many artifacts?”

“Oh, a few,” Lucking said nonchalantly. “But that isn’t our purpose here, and we leave most of them where they are discovered. We’re scientists, not looters of an ancient civilization. We seek only to learn.”

I’ll bet, Longarm thought, while saying, “That’s quite admirable. Will you return next spring to continue your research and excavations?”

“Certainly,” Lucking assured them. “This is our fourth season up here, and we hope to return for many more years.”

Sure you do, until you’ve gutted this entire mesa and become millionaires.

Miranda asked, “What can you tell me about Anasazi women? Were they, for instance, happy?”

Longarm almost clapped his hands, for the question was precisely the kind that some completely innocent and ignorant tourist would ask.

“Happy?” Barker repeated, glancing at his partner, then back at Miranda. “I don’t know if it will ever be possible to answer that question.”

“What is your own opinion?” Miranda persisted.

“I like to think that they were happy,” Barker said, looking off into the darkness as if peering back across time. “The women would have had to work hard, of course, for their duties were to gather pinyon nuts in the fall, keep the cooking fires going all winter, and gather all the wood, as well as grinding corn and tanning hides and making turkey-feather robes.”

“We saw one of those,” Miranda said, “at the museum in Cortez.”

“Yes,” Barker said, “and they are remarkably warm. We find the bones of many turkeys in the rear of the cliff dwellings, and know that they must have served not only for feathers, but also, in times of famine, as a staple food supply. We have also discovered the bones of dogs, so we know that the Anasazi kept them as pets and probably as hunting partners, in addition to their value as sentries against enemies.”

“Who were the enemies of these people?” Longarm asked, impressed by Barker’s knowledge.

“We don’t know that either,” Lucking interjected. “But consider this. Any agrarian people would have kept food stores that would have been very attractive to a more nomadic people. The nomadic people are always the aggressors.”

“How would they know that there were food stores?” Miranda asked.

“Very simple,” Lucking answered. “There is no doubt that the Mesa Verde Anasazi were primarily farmers rather than hunters or even gatherers. Their population was far too large for wild animals to have sustained their numbers. And as farmers, they would have kept a good supply of seed for the following year’s harvest. If it were lost, they would have nothing to plant and so would quickly perish of starvation.”

“That makes sense,” Longarm said. “Did they store their seeds back inside the caves?”

“Yes,” Lucking answered. “We’ve discovered large bins of old Indian corn. It has all been eaten by rodents and birds that have gone up and under the cavern roof, but the cobs and the rinds from squash remain, giving us clear evidence that the Anasazi understood the great importance of storing large amounts of food during the good years for use during the bad.”

“What would cause the bad?” Miranda asked.

“Rain and snowfall levels can vary considerably along the western slopes of the Rocky Mountains. In a good year with abundant water, the Anasazi harvest would be bountiful, unless there was an early frost. But without the precious gift of water, the harvest would fail to materialize. We think that these people stored several years’ worth of winter food in their caverns. And that would have been a major incentive for their enemies to attack.”

“How could they attack anyone down in the face of a cliff?” Longarm asked.

“They would have had a very difficult time indeed,” Barker answered. “To be sure, they would have had to attack during the most vulnerable time of the year.”

“Which would be during the harvest,” Miranda said.

“Precisely!” Barker exclaimed, looking pleased. “And so, because the harvest could be neither ignored nor shifted even by a week or two, the enemies of these people would know when the Anasazi would be most vulnerable to attack despite the inaccessibility of their cliff dwellings.”

“There’s a lot more to think about than first meets the eye,” Longarm said. “A whole lot more.”

“There is indeed,” Lucking told them in his most professorial manner.

They talked for another hour before Lucking began to yawn and then excused himself, saying, “We get up with the sun and generally go to bed with it as well. Good night.”

“Good night,” Longarm said. He turned to Barker and asked, “When is your next shipment of supplies arriving?”

“What makes you-“

“Well,” Longarm said, knowing he was skating thin ice, “someone must bring supplies up here and pack out a few of your findings.”

“Uh … yes. Let’s see. I’m not sure that we will be supplied again this season. In fact, I rather doubt that we will. You see, we will be leaving this camp very soon.

“Of course,” Longarm said, knowing full well that the man was a liar. “Good night.”

“You will be breaking camp and leaving in the morning,” Barker said, looking rather uncomfortable. “I mean, it is not that we don’t trust you to be up here when we are down in the cliff dwellings, but …”

“We intend to climb down with you in the morning,” Miranda said, “if you don’t mind terribly.”

It was clear that Miranda had caught Barker by surprise, and that he was none too pleased with the notion of them accompanying him and Dr. Lucking down into the canyon. Before Barker could muster up an objection, Longarm said, “Of course he wouldn’t mind, darling! After all, this is a free country and the cliff dwellings are for everyone to see and enjoy. Right, Dr. Barker?”

What else could the man do but nod his head and mutter, “Sure. You can follow us down. We’re working in Cliff Palace. It’s the biggest and most magnificent of all the dwellings, but I have to warn you that the trail down is very dangerous. One misstep and you could easily fall hundreds of feet to the rocks below.”

“I think we can handle it, don’t you, my dear?” Longarm said.

Miranda just stared at him with her eyes wide and fearful.

“Perhaps my wife would prefer to remain up here on top, and I will come down for an hour or two on my own,” Longarm told Barker.

“Whatever you wish,” the man said before disappearing into the tent.

After Miranda and Longarm returned to their own camp, she said, “What do you think?”

“Guilty as sin, but also extremely intelligent and knowledgeable. I suspect that they really are archaeologists turned outlaws. It’s a pity, but I can’t offer you any other explanation.”

“I’ll have to think about whether or not I want to climb down some rock face to get to Cliff Palace.”

“It’s entirely up to you,” Longarm said, “but I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Miranda took a deep breath, and he wondered what she would do early the next morning. Longarm also wondered if Lucking and Barker were suspicious and if he and Miranda had more to worry about than falling off the side of a high cliff.

Chapter 14

“Oh, my God!” Miranda cried when she peered over the lip of the canyon and saw the impossible trail that she would have to descend in order to reach Cliff Palace far below. “This is insane!”

It was early in the morning, and there had not even been time for breakfast, let alone a cup of coffee. Longarm had seen the two archaeologists pass their camp on the way to the rim just as the sun was breaking over the eastern mountains. It was clear that they had decided to slip away in the hope that he and Miranda would be discouraged from making the descent.

Well, it isn’t going to work, Longarm thought. At least not for me, it isn’t.

“Look, Miranda, why don’t you just stay up here and keep the horses and our burro company while I go down and see the cliff dwelling. Maybe later we can-“

“Oh, no! I’ve been wanting to visit one of these places for years, and I’m not turning back now.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“You’d better be,” Longarm told her. “The last thing we need is for you to freeze up on the side of this cliff and then expect me to somehow help you back up to the top.”

“Go first and I’ll follow.”

Actually, Longarm wasn’t so sure that he wanted to try the descent either. However, if those two scientists could do it, then dammit, so could he.

“Here goes,” Longarm said, starting over the top into a narrow fissure of rock. “For hell sakes, don’t slip and fall on me or we’re both goners.”

“That’s what you are really worried about, isn’t it!”

Longarm didn’t answer. It seemed impossible to him that the scientists could have descended this way, but he’d watched them do it. How the Anasazi had gone up and down here every day in all kinds of weather, carrying rocks, water, their harvest … well, it defied the imagination.

“There are toeholds dug into the rock down here,” he called up to Miranda after he had crabbed his way down about fifty feet. “I sure hope that they don’t require a special sequence.”

“What do you mean, a special sequence?” Miranda called in a strained voice.

“I mean that it’s going to get even riskier when we have to exit this fissure and crab across a sheer rock wall. It could be that I’m supposed to start with one foot or the other. That’s the kind of thing that would discourage any enemy from attempting to enter Cliff Palace.”

“This is crazy!”

“Oops,” Longarm said. “Wrong foot. Miranda, put your left foot into the first toehold, and that way you’ll end up properly after crossing this bad stretch.”

“This is all a bad stretch!”

“Quit complaining,” Longarm said, inching his way down through another fissure and feeling light-headed whenever he gazed down at the canyon floor far, far below.

“Couldn’t we have used ropes or something!”

“No,” Longarm said. “We didn’t bring enough.”

“I think I’m going to faint!”

Longarm glanced up at Miranda. She did look pale, and he could see that there was a shine of perspiration on her face despite a crispness in the morning air. “Don’t look down,” he warned. “Just keep your eyes on your feet and hands.”

“My feet are down, dammit!”

“Take your time,” Longarm said, praying that she would not fall and send them both to their deaths.

Miranda clung to the wall for several minutes, and just when Longarm was about to urge her to retreat back up to their camp and wait for him, she started down again.

This time, he waited until she had traversed the section of toeholds and reached him.

“Too late to turn back now,” he said.

“I can’t believe that anyone could be stupid enough to do this—especially me!”

“It will be easier climbing back up,” he said, trying to sound encouraging. “It always is.”

“How could Lucking and Barker carry Anasazi artifacts up the face of this cliff?”

“My guess is that they probably fill a basket, then pull it up on a very long rope. I dunno. I didn’t ask.”

“I wish I were in a basket instead of clinging to the side of this rock like a damned spider!”

“Maybe the worst is past us,” Longarm said. “Come on. The longer we sit here talking, the harder it gets.”

Longarm continued slowly down the trail, and he was immensely relieved because it actually did become easier. In fact, the last stretch was very safe. Then they rounded a boulder and beheld Cliff Palace.

“Can you believe this,” Miranda whispered, clutching his arm. “It’s even grander than I’d imagined!”

Longarm was also in awe of the abandoned city that lay protected from the elements by a great limestone cavern every square yard of which was filled by apartments, elegant winding stairways, and neatly plastered walls. There were also courtyards, kivas, and well-preserved ladders that had once allowed the Anasazi to climb easily from one level of the city to another. When he craned his head back, he could see that the top was blacked by smoke from the fires of its ancient inhabitants.

“I never imagined it was so big and … and impressive,” Longarm exclaimed. “Look at the stonework! The corners of every wall and building are perfect!”

“Can you imagine the heartache these Indians must have felt when they were forced to leave?” Miranda asked. “Especially after laboring so long and hard.”

“No, I can’t.” Longarm heard the sound of a pick or shovel chipping at rock, and knew that the archaeologists must already be at work excavating. “Miranda, let’s go see what our two friends are up to.”

“They’re not going to be very happy to see us.”

“I know. I want to watch them for a while before we announce our presence.”

“Good idea.”

Lucking and Barker were down inside one of the great ceremonial kivas, and their grunts of exertion could plainly be heard in the silence of the ruins. The scientists had already brought up a number of bones and some large pieces of the gray pottery etched with black designs that were characteristic of the Mesa Verde Anasazi.

“What shall we do?” Miranda asked.

“Since they may be down there for several more hours, I suggest we take a tour of these ruins.”

“I’d like that.”

Longarm was not a superstitious man, but as they crept through the little rooms and admired the beautiful red and black designs on the inside walls of a bedroom, he could almost hear the whisperings of ancient spirits.

“It’s cold here,” Miranda said once as they ducked into what appeared to have been a storage room. “I bet the old people really suffered from rheumatism and aching bones.”

“I suspect so,” Longarm replied. “My guess is that they stayed very near the mouth of the cave and soaked in as much of the afternoon sunshine as possible.”

“Do you think that quite a few of their children fell to their deaths?”

“I imagine the children must have learned quite young to stay away from the mouth of this cavern and that their mothers watched them like hawks.”

“I hope so,” Miranda said as they left the storage compartment and passed along a second-story balcony that connected two separate square towers. “Everywhere I look I see places where you could fall to your death.”

“I doubt that they saw it that way,” Longarm told her. “I’m sure that they felt right at home and very safe from all enemies.”

Longarm and Miranda worked their way deeper into the cavern, back where they had been told that the Anasazi kept their domesticated turkeys penned and also deposited their refuse. Sure enough, they discovered evidence of turkey droppings as well as many bird and animal bones.

“I could spend years poking around in here, digging up things,” Miranda said. “I wonder if the other cliff dwellings are as big as this one.”

“I don’t think so,” Longarm said, looking back toward the kiva where the archaeologists were still working. “Cliff Palace is supposed to be the largest.”

Just then, Barker and Lucking emerged, cradling dirt-crusted objects in their arms.

“What are we going to do?” Miranda asked as they ducked behind a wall.

“I think we ought to announce ourselves and take a look at whatever it is they are bringing out of that kiva,” Longarm answered.

“But won’t they become suspicious?”

“I don’t think so,” Longarm answered. “At any rate, I’m not one to slink around. Let’s just greet them as if we were out exploring and having a good time.”

When Lucking and Barker realized that they were not alone in Cliff Palace, they were less than friendly. Lucking was especially incensed.

“This is really no place for tourists without experienced guides,” he said, giving them stern looks. “I would have thought that you would both have had more sense than to attempt that descent without a guide familiar with the trail.”

“We are adventuresome,” Longarm said, determined not to allow himself to be rankled. He glanced over at the partial skeleton and the newly unearthed pottery, some of which was unbroken and no doubt very valuable. “I see that you’re not leaving everything you find in that kiva.”

“We examine it and then return it!” Lucking snapped. “And anyway, what concern is it of yours?”

“None at all,” Longarm replied. “I’m all for scientific research. As long as it’s well done and for everyone’s benefit.”

The younger archaeologist said, “These ruins can be quite dangerous to the uninitiated. You could fall through rubble and be killed. My suggestion is that you both leave and perhaps return next spring with an experienced guide.”

“We don’t need a guide,” Miranda angrily retorted. “And neither do we need your advice.”

“We have important work to do,” Lucking said stiffly as he climbed back down the ladder into the kiva.

“Yes,” Barker said, “if you’ll excuse us.”

“Sure.” Longarm smiled disarmingly. “Just pretend that we aren’t even here.”

Barker gave him a cold look and then vanished, leaving Miranda and Longarm alone with the displaced artifacts.

“What now?” she whispered.

“We’ll leave in an hour or so,” Longarm told her. “I don’t know about you, but the sooner I get up on top of the mesa, the better I’ll feel.”

They left Cliff Palace a short time later, and climbed back up to the top of the mesa without incident. They cooked a long-overdue breakfast and enjoyed a pot of coffee. The sun warmed them, and after their strenuous climb, it was easy to lie back and take a nap.

“Hey!” a voice called, bringing Longarm and Miranda out of a restful sleep. “Who are you?”

Longarm sat up and looked at a pair of cowboys who were standing about fifteen feet away. They looked friendly enough, so he said, “Hello.”

“What are you and that woman doing up here?” the cowboy repeated. “There ain’t no guides around.”

“We decided to come up without one,” Longarm told them, not caring if it sounded foolish. “Who are you?”

“We work for Mountain Packers,” the cowboy answered. “And we’ve just delivered supplies for Dr. Lucking and Dr. Barker. Are they down in the cliff dwellings today?”

“As far as I know,” Longarm said, thinking what a great stroke of good luck it was to have these men here so soon. “Will you be staying a while?”

“Naw, we’re going down tomorrow,” the other cowboy said. “We work our pack string out of Durango.”

“I see.”

“Funny time to be takin’ a nap,” the taller of the pair remarked. “Why, it ain’t even noon!”

“We’re on our honeymoon,” Miranda explained, rubbing her eyes and stretching with a yawn.

The cowboys suddenly looked embarrassed, and without another word, they marched back to their pack string of mules and began to unload supplies.

“What are we going to do now?” Miranda asked.

“I’d say that we ought to follow this pair down to Durango and see who is picking up those boxes of artifacts that I inspected yesterday.”

“Good idea.”

When Barker and Lucking returned to the mesa-top late that afternoon, they were anything but sociable to Miranda and Longarm, and did not invite them into their camp. That evening, the wind began to blow and the temperature plummeted.

“I’m afraid we might be in for a snowstorm,” Longarm said, his expression grim.

“We could go back down into Cliff Palace and stay dry.”

“We might never be able to climb out again given the snow and ice that could coat the cliff face.”

“Then what are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking that we had better cross our fingers and pray that we can ride off this mesa first thing in the morning.”

“Maybe Lucking and Barker will have to do the same,” Miranda said.

“I expect that they will,” Longarm answered. “It appears to me like this country is going to have an early and hard winter. I also can’t imagine that they would be very happy about trying to climb up and down the face of that cliff when the toe-and handholds are filled with snow and ice. I’m sure that they’ll have to pack up everything and come on down with the gents from Mountain Packers.”

“That would work to our favor, wouldn’t it?”

“You bet it would,” Longarm said. “So let’s see if we can keep from freezing to death tonight and cross our fingers that this is just a weak, passing storm.”

Longarm moved their camp into the shelter of some rocks that offered a good deal of protection from the wind. He fed their animals grain, and made sure that they were well tied and could not break away if frightened by the storm. By the time he was finished, the snow was really starting to come down and it was very cold.

“We’ll be fine,” Miranda told him as he huddled beside their fire and tried to warm his hands. “These storms are usually fast-moving.”

“Yeah,” he said, deciding that he had better change into a dry shirt and pants before jumping into his bedroll.

Miranda had other ideas. As soon as Longarm was undressed and before he could reach for a change of dry clothing, she was kissing his chest, then rubbing his half frozen thighs. “Custis, let’s sleep together and create some good old-fashioned body heat.”

Longarm wondered why he hadn’t thought of that first. He helped Miranda undress, and then they pulled her bedroll over his and began kissing and rubbing each other to increase their circulation. In a few minutes more, they were making love beside the hissing fire. Miranda was more passionate than she’d ever been before, and she rode Longarm until his hips began thrusting and he filled her with his hot seed. Then, her own body spasmed and she slumped forward, gasping for breath and clinging to him tightly.

“There is something about a stormy night that really gets me excited,” she confessed.

Longarm kissed her mouth, and then studied her lovely face in the firelight. “Maybe it would be better if this storm lasted a few days.”

“Don’t be silly. We’re not prepared.”

“We’ve got enough food and there is plenty of firewood around. We could even go find shelter in those ruins we first discovered up here on the mesa. We could pretend that we were ancient Anasazi.”

Miranda giggled. “I doubt that their women would have been as wanton as I’ve just been.”

“Don’t be so sure of that,” Longarm told her.

Miranda sighed, and they held each other tight as the storm continued to intensify and he wondered what tomorrow would bring for them all.

Chapter 15

There was a foot of snow on the ground the following morning when Longarm and Miranda finally burrowed out from under the rocks and gazed up at a cold and cloudy sky.

Longarm shivered, then glanced over toward the archaeologists’ camp and exclaimed, “The sonofabitches are all gone!”

“Well, what time is it?” Miranda asked.

Longarm dug into his bags and finally located his pocket watch. “Damn,” he swore, “I forgot to wind it before we went to bed.”

“Can’t you tell by the sun?”

“What sun?” he asked, peering up at the dark and ominous storm clouds. “Miranda, let’s get dressed, break camp, and get down off this high mesa before it starts snowing again.”

Miranda didn’t have to be told twice. She and Longarm started pulling on every bit of dry clothing that they had available, and then Longarm went to saddle the horses. But the horses were gone! Only the little burro stood shivering in the pines where Longarm had left their animals.

“Sonofabitch!” Longarm swore with a mixture of anger and frustration.

He hurried over to where the archaeologists had been camped and quickly read the tracks. Sure enough, two of them, probably the packers, had taken his rented saddle horses. No doubt they’d have taken the burro as well except that it had broken free and they hadn’t been able to catch it. With the snow on the ground, it was easy to see that the packers and the archaeologists had headed down the Mountainside, probably less than two hours earlier. It might as well have been two days earlier because Longarm knew that, on foot and in this weather, there was no chance of overtaking them.

Discouraged and more than a bit anxious, he managed to catch and halter their burro, then lead the animal back to their camp. When he saw Miranda, he said, “I’m afraid that we are going to have to hike down from Mesa Verde. They’ve taken our horses, but at least-“

“They’ve what!”

“Now take it easy,” he said, trying to put the best face possible on this disaster. “We’ve got the burro and his pack, so we can carry most all of the supplies we brought up here. We may get cold, wet, and damned tired, but we’ll make it.”

“Custis, how could they do such a low-down thing!”

“My guess is that the whole bunch of ‘em are just bad, and maybe they were suspicious of us coming up here so late in the season,” he said, finding it damned hard to keep the discouragement and bitterness out of his voice. “And they probably figure that they’ll be on their way east with their precious artifacts long before we get around to feeling like asking any more questions.”

“We’re in big trouble, aren’t we?”

“I don’t think so,” Longarm told her. “Not unless it starts snowing again.”

“The sky looks pretty bad,” Miranda said, gazing upward.

“Then we’d better stop talking and get to packing,” he told her. “We need to eat and then be gone within the hour.”

Longarm packed everything he could, while Miranda somehow found enough dry limbs and twigs to get their fire blazing. And despite the fact that neither of them had much of an appetite, they forced themselves to eat well, knowing that the long walk down to Cortez was going to require all of their energy.

“Okay,” Longarm said when they were finished and the burro was packed to its limit. “Let’s get off this high mesa.”

They took off, following the tracks of the archaeologists and their packers. The snow was well tramped down, and it made the going a lot easier than if they had to break a fresh trail. Longarm took the lead dragging the burro, and Miranda brought up the rear. They hiked steadily all through the morning and stopped to eat at noon, then pushed on until darkness.

“We’re real lucky that the weather is holding for us,” Longarm said that night when, completely exhausted, they made their camp in the shelter of a stand of juniper pines. “But it just might storm again tonight.”

“It doesn’t look good, that’s for certain,” Miranda said, gazing up at a night sky without a trace of the moon or stars.

Even the burro was discouraged, and was inclined to bray forlornly into the frosty air.

“Just one more day,” Longarm said after they had eaten a cold supper and climbed into their bedrolls, hugging each other tightly for warmth. “One more day of clear weather and we’re out of this mess.”

It snowed again that night, and the wind was blowing hard when the first gray light of a frozen dawn appeared. By then, Longarm and Miranda had been awake for quite some time, but there was no sense in climbing out of their bedrolls and freezing in the darkness.

“Let’s skip breakfast and eat some cold biscuits and beef,” Longarm said. “I sure don’t like the look of that sky to the north.”

“Me neither,” Miranda said. “And I expect that the tracks we are following will vanish in the blowing snow.”

“Yeah,” Longarm said, “but we know that they’re either headed for Durango or that museum in Cortez. Either way, we’ll catch them tomorrow.”

“I sure hope so,” Miranda said. “And after what they’ve done to us, I’d prefer to kill them all myself!”

“I’m afraid that you’ll have to wait in line, darling.”

By `@364’ mid-morning, the wind was fierce and the tracks they had been following had been wiped away. With their coat collars pulled up under their chins and with the snow biting at their eyes, they had a brief discussion and decided to head for Cortez, simply because it was closer and they were getting weak from the cold and the effort it took to buck the bitter head wind.

At noon, Longarm unpacked the burro, fed it the last of their oats, then lifted Miranda up on its back and said, “You just hang on tight and enjoy the ride.”

She was so weary that she could hardly force a smile.

“We haven’t all that much farther to go, have we?”

“Just a few more miles and we’ll be in Cortez, and then we’ll get a room and have a hot bath and supper with whiskey and wine. How does that sound?”

“Heavenly. But what about-“

“We’ll worry about catching up with them tomorrow morning,” Longarm told her. “No one is going anywhere in this stormy weather, so we might as well enjoy ourselves for at least this evening.”

“I couldn’t agree more.”

Longarm had hoped that they might meet a wagon or perhaps even a stagecoach that would bring them the last few miles of their exhausting journey down from Mesa Verde, but they had no such luck. And it was a good bit farther to town than he’d been willing to admit to himself, and so they didn’t reach Cortez until just before nightfall. By then, Longarm was staggering and the damned wind hadn’t let up at all.

They left the burro in a stall at the livery, which was now being run by a townsman, who had temporarily replaced Joe Horn, and hurried to the Concord Hotel. Jenny McAllister had a fit when she saw what poor shape they were in.

“My God!” she cried. “What happened!”

“It’s a long story, ma’am. Could you have a steaming bath brought up to our room and later a good hot meal?”

“Why, of course! You both look like death warmed over.”

“I’m sure we do,” Longarm said, feeling his lips crack as he tried to smile and show that he was still game. “But we’ll be much better by morning.”

“Did you walk all the way down from the mesa?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“In this terrible weather?”

“Wasn’t any choice, ma’am. No choice at all.”

“Let’s get you upstairs to a room and we’ll have that hot bath ready in no time.”

“Thank you,” Miranda said, her voice thin and trembling with weariness.

“my land,” the woman said, “I sure wouldn’t be going anywhere else with this fool!”

Longarm might have thought the remark somewhat humorous had he been in his normal good spirits. But as it was, he found himself entirely lacking in humor as he took Miranda’s arm and steered her toward the stairs.

They soaked long and ate well that night, then slept like the dead, and did not awaken until almost ten o’clock the following morning.

“I’m feeling a lot better,” Miranda told Longarm as he dressed and checked his weapons. “And I’d like to go out with you this morning.”

“I’d prefer that you stayed in bed and rested,” he said. “I doubt that our friends are in town anyway.”

“But you said it was just as likely they’d head for Laird’s museum as for Durango.”

“Well,” Longarm said, not wanting to place Miranda in any danger, “I changed my mind. I’m quite sure that they’ve gone to Durango.”

“Then what-“

“I want to go to the telegraph office and see if I’ve heard back from Billy Vail on those two archaeologists,” Longarm explained. “My guess is that Harvard University has never heard of either man.”

“And then what?”

“I’ll go pay a visit to Laird and ask him a few more questions.”

“Will you arrest him?”

“Not yet,” Longarm told her. “Not until we first arrest Lucking and Barker. Laird can wait a while longer. I’m sure that he isn’t the leader of this bunch, and I don’t want to spook them into hiding.”

“Be careful,” Miranda pleaded. “And if I can-“

“You can’t,” Longarm said. “Just stay here and rest up. We’ll be heading for Durango the minute I can find a way to get there safely.”

“All right.”

Longarm went downstairs. He would have loved to have breakfast and hot coffee, but he felt compelled to seek out Laird and perhaps, if his hunches were correct, even catch Lucking and Barker at the museum unloading their last shipment of Anasazi artifacts before the pair headed east into a winter hiding.

The telegram that he was hoping for had arrived in Cortez several days earlier, and it read:

HARVARD HAS NEVER HEARD OF EITHER IMPOSTER ARREST THEM AT ONCE BILLY

That telegram was all the reason he needed to approach the museum from its back side. Longarm drew his gun and eased up to a grimy rear window, then rubbed it clean and peered inside. A big smile creased his face, causing his parched lips to crack and bleed again. But Longarm didn’t care because it was his good fortune to see not only Lucking and Barker, but also the two employees of Mountain Packers as well as Laird. They were sorting through the latest delivery of new artifacts, and so absorbed in their business that Longarm had no trouble getting the drop on them.

“Good morning!” he shouted, his gun trained on all five men who were crouched over an Anasazi mummy that they had just removed from a packing crate. “Nice stuff, huh?”

One of the cowboys foolishly reached for the gun on his hip, and Longarm drilled him through the forearm. The man screamed and collapsed to his knees, wringing his bloody arm.

“Anyone else interested in losing the use of their arm … or worse?”

No one was. Longarm had them lie down on the floor and then, one by one, he used the same rope that had bound the packing crates to hog-tie his prisoners.

“we demand to know the meaning of this outrage!” Laird shouted.

Longarm extracted the telegram and read it out loud. “What this means, gentlemen,” he said, specifically addressing Lucking and Barker, “is that you have been lying to everyone about your true intentions, which are to loot Mesa Verde cliff dwellings and realize enormous but illegal profits from the sale of their artifacts.”

“You’re crazy!” Lucking choked, his face apoplectic with rage. “And I’ll see that you pay for this mistake!”

“Fine,” Longarm told the man. “But that will have to wait until we reach Durango and I arrest your boss. Do you want to tell me who he is now … or must I get that information the hard way?”

“Go to Hell!” Barker hissed through clenched teeth. “You don’t have anything on any of us.”

“You’re dead wrong about that,” Longarm said, going over to extract a skull from one of the crates. The skull had parchment-like skin over its face and strands of long black hair. It was one of the best-preserved Longarm had ever seen, but also one of the most hideous.

“Isn’t this one something, though,” he said, turning the skull one way and then another while his eyes shifted back and forth across his five captives seeking a look that would tell him who among them would be the most disgusted by what he intended to do next.

It was definitely the youngest of the mule skinners who had been supplying Lucking and Barker. Longarm read his revulsion, and went over to the bound man and pushed the Indian skull right into his face. The skinner went mad with horror, shouting and trying to jump up and run. Longarm put a knee squarely between the man’s shoulder blades and said, “Maybe you’d like to-“

“No! Get it away from me!”

“Who is your Durango boss? Who is he!”

The other four hostages started shouting at the young man to keep his mouth shut, but the kid was oblivious to everything except the Anasazi skull that Longarm was waving before his round, panic-filled eyes.

“It’s Marshal Palladin! He gives the orders!”

Longarm retracted the skull and studied the kid. There was no possibility that he was lying. “Thanks. I can’t think of anyone that I’d rather arrest than that rotten sonofabitch.”

“What about us!” Lucking cried.

“Oh,” Longarm said, “I’ll find a safe place to hold you until the weather clears. Then we’ll go to Durango together, where I’ll arrest Palladin and put you all on a stage for Pueblo, then a train for Denver. I’m afraid that you might have some difficulty adjusting to prison, but that can’t be helped.”

“You rotten sonofabitch!” Lucking cried. “I’ll see that you pay for this!”

Longarm’s stomach growled, reminding him that he needed a hearty breakfast. And so, after double-checking to make sure that the five were securely bound and had no chance of escape, he closed the door of the museum behind him and went off to have a good meal of bacon, eggs, and pancakes.

Chapter 16

The storm lasted for two days, and Longarm kept his captives hog-tied in the near-freezing museum the entire time while he and Miranda recuperated. When a warm chinook wind came and quickly melted the snow, Longarm hired an honest and willing freighter to take them all to Mancos, where they spent the night, and then to push on for Durango.

“I want you to pull this wagon in behind the livery and watch over these boys while I pay Marshal Palladin a surprise visit,” Longarm told the driver when they neared Durango.

“Now wait jest a minute!” the freighter said, shaking his head back and forth. “I ain’t no lawman. You paid me to-“

“I’m deputizing you,” Longarm said. “And you’ll be pleased to know that emergency pay for a deputy is five dollars a day.”

“Five dollars?”

“That’s right,” Longarm said, making all this up. “I’ll pay you three dollars now and two more in about another fifteen minutes when I return with Seth Palladin.”

“Well, hell, I’ll do that for five dollars.”

Longarm paid the man three and then said to Miranda, “I’d rather you stayed here and kept an eye on our prisoners.”

“I’d rather come along with you just in case something goes wrong.”

“Nothing is going to go wrong, Miranda.”

She showed him her pistol. “I know, but just in case.”

“All right. As long as you stay out of harm’s way.”

“Fair enough.”

Longarm headed for the jail, where he expected he’d find Palladin. However, when he got there, the man was gone and the office was locked.

“You lookin’ for the marshal?” an old-timer sitting in a rocking chair asked.

“That’s right.”

“He’s over at the saloon. Likes to have a shot or two of whiskey in the middle of the afternoon.”

“Which saloon?”

“The Lucky Dog just up the street.”

“Thanks.”

“You better not let that pretty woman go in there or you’re just asking for trouble.”

“Miranda, you heard the man. I want you to wait on this side of the street and pretend to be looking in a shop window or something.”

“All right. But I can shoot straight and-“

“Just let me do this alone and we’re on our way to Pueblo and then to Denver.”

“Do we have to go back home so soon?”

“I’m afraid so.” Longarm relaxed a moment. “But I promise that I’ll take you on a hell of a nice vacation starting next week.”

That satisfied Miranda, and she stayed behind as Longarm angled across the street, making a beeline for the Lucky Dog.

When he reached it, he took a deep breath and stepped inside. Seth Palladin was easily the biggest man at the bar, and he was engaged in conversation when Longarm walked right up behind him, drew his gun, and said, “Marshal, you are under arrest for the illegal theft and transportation of Anasazi artifacts. Put up your hands!”

Palladin swung around with his glass of whiskey and tossed it into Longarm’s eyes, momentarily blinding him. Longarm’s gun went off, but he missed, and the side of his face went numb from Palladin’s fist. His knees buckled, but he lashed out with his pistol and managed to hit Palladin, probably saving his life as they fell to the floor. Palladin was trying to tear his own six-gun from its holster, and he almost did, but Longarm got a grip on his wrist and butted him in the nose with his forehead. It hurt, but not as much as it must have hurt Palladin, because the crooked lawman’s nose broke and bled profusely on them both. However, just when Longarm was starting to take command, someone struck him in the back of the head.

“Miranda!” he shouted, trying to cover the back of his skull from another blow while fending off Seth Palladin.

Miranda came charging through the door like the cavalry going to the rescue, and Longarm heard her gun bark, and then he heard a man shout in pain. He sledged Palladin in his broken nose again and again.

“Custis, stop! He’s finished!”

Longarm climbed to his feet. He saw a man slumped to his knees trying to plug up a bullet hole in his shoulder. Palladin was writhing on the sawdust floor, both hands covering his broken nose.

“Custis, are you all right?” Miranda asked, rushing to his side with a smoking gun clenched in her fist.

He felt wetness at the back of his head and a rising bump where the man with the bullet in his shoulder had slugged him.

“No,” he said, “but I will be by the time we reach Denver.”

“We got them all, didn’t we?” Miranda said, the barrel of her six-gun shifting back and forth between Palladin and the one she’d shot.

“I’d say we did, or at least the worst of them,” Longarm answered as he dragged himself to his feet and shouted, “Bartender, your best whiskey for me and my lady!”

“Yes, sir! Coming right up!”

He and Miranda had three straight shots before Longarm sent for a doctor to take care of Palladin and his wounded friend. Then, taking the bottle, they led the pair at gunpoint back to join the other members of the gang.

“Driver,” Longarm said, handing the freighter two dollars he was owed, “how would you like to earn another five dollars a day plus a twenty-dollar gold piece as a bonus for delivering us to the train station at Pueblo?”

The driver gave him a big, toothless grin, spat tobacco juice, and said, “Marshal Long, it would be my pleasure.”

Custis took another pull on the bottle of whiskey before he hog-tied Seth Palladin and his friend and helped them into the wagon with the rest of the gang.

“Let’s get out of here,” he said as a crowd of curious locals started to gather. “It’s just a damn sorry thing when a town has to see its own marshal whipped, arrested, and hog-tied.”

“I have a feeling that Durango will be a whole lot better off finding a new marshal,” Miranda told him.

Longarm nodded, and even managed a grin because he knew that his woman was not only brave and beautiful, but exactly right.