Longarm and the Helldorado Kid

“But your father and brother have.”

It wasn’t a statement, and Longarm wanted to see what kind of reaction it would generate from the kid.

“My father has a lot of enemies. So does Clyde. I expect I have a few as well.”

“But not like them,” Longarm said pointedly. “Not the kind that want to kill you for murdering their friends and family.”

Randy toed the earth and looked uncomfortable. “I’m a Killion.”

“Yeah,” Longarm said, “but you’re also your own person.”

Randy’s brows knitted. “What are you trying to say?”

“I’m saying that you don’t have to be like someone else just because you have their last name.”

“Are you talking down my father and brother?” the kid asked, heat creeping into his voice.

“No,” Longarm said quickly. “I’m not talking anyone down. I’m just saying we’re all individuals with different ways of handling things. What might work for your father or brother might not set as well with YOU.”

The kid tried to look angry. “What are you going to do now?” he finally said.

“I dunno. Your father told me to give you a few tips about fighting.”

Randy looked embarrassed. “I was sort of curious about how you were able to whip Dean without seeming to make much of a fuss over it. Up to then, I’d never seen or even heard of anyone whipping him.”

“He’s big, strong, and a bully,” Longarm said. “He tried to bully me, but I called his bluff.”

“Sure, but he wasn’t bluffing, Custis. Dean is tough, and he’d have shot you through the gut if given half the chance.”

“I knew that,” Longarm said. “And that’s why I didn’t give him the chance. I hit him first, not after he’d knocked my teeth in. And when I hit him, I made the first blow count. I hit him as hard as I could where I knew it would do the most damage.”

“You booted the hell out of him, too,” Randy said.

“A man can break his hands up real easy on someone’s head or even their face. If he breaks knuckles, he’s in trouble because the pain is so bad he can’t use that hand to fight. And if that is his gun hand, he’s in double trouble. So you see, I used a boot not so much to hurt him as to avoid damaging my hands and putting myself at someone else’s mercy.”

“It makes sense,” Randy said. “So you’re saying the key to winning is to hit hard and hit first.”

“That’s right. When you throw that first punch, don’t telegraph it either. Don’t loop the punch and swing from the rafters or your bootstraps.”

Longarm doubled up his fists and demonstrated. He moved closer to Randy and feigned two quick blows to the man’s gut, then brought an uppercut up to the point of the kid’s jaw that traveled less than six inches.

“Quick, hard, and short punches that start from close to the body and not somewhere out in thin air,” he advised.

“And what happens if you get hit and go down?” Randy asked.

“Roll and keep rolling,” Longarm said. “Get under something and try to come out on the other side. And if you’re pretty sure you’re going to lose the fight, either punch for the throat or kick for the groin or grab ahold of a club and start swinging.”

“You’ve got an answer for everything.”

“No, I don’t,” Longarm admitted, “and I never pick fights the way that Dean picked one with me. I always try to avoid them, but if I have to fight, I fight to win and I don’t worry about the Marquis of Queensberry’s rules. In a bar-room fight, anything goes, and I mean anything short of killing your opponent unless he is obviously trying to kill you.”

“My father and Clyde are hard fighters,” the kid said with no small measure of pride. “My father may look real long in the tooth, but he can whip any man in Helldorado with the possible exception of my brother, who’d never fight him.”

“That’s good,” Longarm said. “I’ve seen sons whip their fathers, but it’s a bad thing and there’s never any good can come out of it, unless the father was one of those sonsabitches that just liked to beat his kids.”

“My father never beat me, but he’ll slap Desiree around a little if she gets mouthy.”

“That’d be a shame,” Longarm said, “as pretty as she is.”

They talked for a little while longer, and then Randy told Longarm to pack his gear over to one of the hotels where a room was waiting. “It ain’t much, but the roof isn’t burned out and the rain won’t leak through it even in a bad storm.”

“That’s good enough for me.”

Randy started to leave, but then he said, “You any good with explosives?”

Longarm blinked. “What makes you ask a question like that?”

“Just wondering,” the kid said. “Are you?”

“I’ve handled dynamite before, and I know how to set and light a fuse.”

“Good,” Randy said. “My father will be happy to hear that.”

“Randy?”

The kid turned, and Longarm sauntered over to him. “Is he thinking of a bank, or another train?”

Randy’s jaw dropped. “What do you know about that?” he demanded.

“Nothing,” Longarm said, “but it’s easy enough to figure that your father isn’t looking for me to use dynamite in the mines, now is he?”

Randy started to say something, then changed his mind and clamped his mouth shut before he walked away.

Longarm moved into a smaller hotel whose exterior rock walls were scorched and blackened. There were eight rooms on the second floor, and Longarm was given one already occupied by a tall, thin young outlaw named Eddie Tabor. Tabor had a jagged knife scar running diagonally across his face. His lower lip was badly scarred and twisted, making him look as if he’d just eaten something very, very bitter. He had thin brown hair and bad teeth. Even worse, he did not look you directly in the eye when you spoke to him, but sort of shifted his gaze from side to side.

“I hope you’re not Dean’s best friend and are planning on cutting my throat tonight,” Longarm said, only half kidding as he spread his bedroll out and collapsed to take his ease.

“The only one you have to worry about is Dean,” Tabor said. “The man didn’t have a friend. He’d whipped most all of us and he had coming what you did to him.”

“Glad to hear you say that.”

“But he’ll gun for you,” Tabor warned. “I expect he’s hanging out somewhere on a rooftop or in an alley waiting to get you in his gunsights. Best thing for you to do would be to kill him first.”

“You mean just hunt him down?”

“Yeah, that’s exactly what I mean.”

“I’ll give it some thought,” Longarm said. “In the meantime, what does everyone do around here?”

“What are you driving at?”

“Well,” Longarm said innocently, “I don’t see much going on in the way of people making a living.”

Tabor looked at him strangely. “We make a fine living. Hasn’t Mr. Killion explained things?”

“Some,” Longarm lied. “You know, about the trains and such, but I still expected people to keep busy.”

“We do keep busy,” Tabor explained. “There’s always some of us out scouting up opportunities.”

Longarm understood Tabor to mean that members of the gang were constantly searching for other banks, trains, stages, and individuals to rob, and then reporting their findings to Matthew Killion.

“How many jobs do you do a month?”

“Enough to live right,” Tabor said. “We got good whiskey to drink, as much as we want, and we got some whores, though they’re pretty worn out and not a damn bit lively unless you start to pinchin’ ‘em when they act too lazy.”

“I see.”

Tabor licked his lips and his eyes grew bright. “Some of them whores are from Mexico, and we’ve got some ex-prison girls too. Ones that have been in real trouble.”

“Nevada prison girls, right?” Longarm asked, suddenly becoming nervous.

“Yeah, I expect. One named Lucy is from Arizona, though. Seems to me she was once in that same Yuma prison that they locked you up in. Hell, you might even know her!”

“I doubt it,” Longarm said. “They kept the women and the men inmates as far away from each other as possible and we never hardly even saw one another. Most of the women in Yuma were as hard as nails.”

“Lucy is hard, but she’s also handsome. You don’t pinch her, though. If you do that you’re liable to get a knife shoved up your ass … if she don’t first whack off your balls.”

“I’ll remember that,” Longarm said.

“Good thing if you do.” Tabor was leaving. “I don’t like to hurt the girls anyway. And as for Lucy, she just sort of scares the piss outa me. I’d rather meet up with a cougar in a cave than Lucy in her bed.”

“I’ll stay away from her,” Longarm vowed.

“Best you do,” Tabor advised as he went out the door.

Chapter 14

That evening, Longarm went outside and headed across the street for the saloon. He was hungry and looking for a meal as well as a little sociable conversation. Not that Longarm had any illusions about making friends with anyone who’d ride with Killion’s gang, because he was determined to bring the whole lot of them crashing down. But in his experience, men with whiskey in their bellies tended to open up and reveal secrets that they would never speak about when completely sober. With any luck, Longarm hoped he might even get one of Killion’s men to spill his guts about that big Donner Pass train robbery.

Longarm was halfway across the street when a loud shout stopped him dead in his tracks.

“Hey, you big sonofabitch!”

Longarm’s hand streaked for his six-gun even as he twisted around in the direction of the voice. A man was standing deep in the shadows between two buildings, and Longarm couldn’t pinpoint his exact location until his six-gun stabbed muzzle flame.

A bullet struck Longarm in the ribs and its impact spun him halfway around, probably saving his life. Longarm regained his balance and fired at the muzzle-flash. An instant later, he heard the man grunt. Before Longarm could get off another shot at his ambusher, he was gone, the sound of his boots pounding down the narrow corridor between two burned-out storefronts.

Longarm gripped his side and felt warm blood. He swore and limped after his man, but when he reached the spot where the man had fired, Longarm realized that he had too big a head start and would be impossible to overtake.

“What happened?” Randy asked, rushing up to join Longarm.

Longarm holstered his gun and pushed back his coat. “I was ambushed.”

“By Dean?”

“He’d be my first guess.” Longarm took a deep breath. The initial shock was wearing off to be replaced by a deep, throbbing pain in his side. “I managed to return fire and I’m pretty sure that Dean took a bullet.”

“And he just opened fire on you from ambush?”

“That’s right.”

“We’ll find him,” Randy vowed, his eyes dropping to Longarm’s side. “How bad are you hurt?”

“I might have broken a rib,” Longarm said through gritted teeth. “I dunno.”

“We’ll take you over to see Lucy.”

“What for? Isn’t she the ex-convict from Yuma?”

“That’s right, and she’s also the best in Helldorado when it comes to patching a man up. Besides,” Randy said, “you might even know her from the days when you and she were both inmates down in the Arizona Territory.”

“Not likely,” Longarm said quickly. “And I’d just as soon let the doctorin’ wait until I find Dean before he tries to ambush me again.”

“Maybe you killed him.”

“I don’t think so,” Longarm said. “He was running pretty hard when he took off.”

“There’s no place to run in Helldorado,” Randy said confidently. “Let’s go find Lucy and have her take care of the damage. There sure isn’t any sense in standing here jawing while you bleed to death.”

That made good sense to Longarm, so he followed Randy back across the street. Matthew and Clyde Killion were waiting to meet them, and it seemed everyone in Helldorado had gathered around to learn about the cause of the gunfire.

“What happened?” Matthew demanded, big arms folded across his chest and face hard with anger.

Randy pulled up before his father and said, “Custis was ambushed.”

“By who?” Killion addressed his question to Longarm.

“I don’t know,” Longarm admitted. “Someone called out and I turned and was shot. I fired back, and I’m almost certain I hit the man who tried to cut me down.”

“Was it Dean Holt?”

Before Longarm could answer, Clyde pushed forward and interrupted. “Pa, it couldn’t have been Dean. Hell, you saw him! Dean was so beat up he could barely walk.”

But Killion shook his head with disagreement. “Son, when a man is fueled by hatred, he has the power to do amazing things. Hatred fires a man like no other emotion.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Find Dean. If he’s wounded and layin’ up, drag him to me kicking and screaming.”

“Yes, sir,” Clyde said, obviously not pleased with the order but not ready to argue about it either.

“Randy, take our friend Custis over to see Lucy,” Killion said. “She’ll fix him up.”

“We were just on our way over to see her.”

“You didn’t take lead in the gut, did you?” Killion asked, looking closely at the blood seeping from Longarm’s side.

“No, sir,” Longarm replied. “I’ve just been grazed. Maybe the slug splintered a rib. I don’t know, but it feels like I’ve just had a burning branding iron slapped to my hide.”

“Well,” Killion promised, “if Dean turns up shot, he’s gonna wish you’d already put him out of his misery.”

Killion turned slightly, and his voice grew loud as he spoke to every man in Helldorado. “Boys, one rule that I won’t stand to be broken is that we don’t kill each other. I’ve said this before, but I’ll say it again. If there is hatred between you, settle it with your fists. When one man can’t rise, the fight is over. You shake hands and bury the hatchet.”

Killion paused, his eyes raking the Helldorado outlaws. “But boys, if one of you uses a gun or a knife against another, you’ll not live long to regret it.”

Longarm didn’t know what Killion had in mind for Dean, and the thought occurred to him that Killion might even torture the wounded outlaw. Either way, Longarm had a strong suspicion that Dean’s punishment wasn’t going to be pleasant to watch. On the other hand, it was hard to feel sorry for the ambusher. Sympathy was wasted on his kind because such men sought no quarter and would kill you without a moment’s hesitation. “Custis, come along,” Randy said impatiently. “Let’s find Lucy before you bleed to death.”

“Sounds like the thing to do.”

They found Lucy tipped back in a saloon chair with her high-heeled shoes resting on a faro table as she examined the runs in her black silk stockings. She was a tall woman, willowy, with long, shapely legs. Her straight black hair was shoulder length, and she obviously took pride in it because it gleamed as the result of heavy brushing. Lucy’s still-attractive face showed the inevitable telltale signs of hard living, although she could not have been over 30. There were dark smudges around her eyes, and her fingernails were bitten to the quick. Longarm’s first impressions were generally correct, and this one told him that Lucy was high-strung, tough, and smart.

“I heard the shooting,” Lucy said, staring at Longarm and his bloody shirt. “I guess that Dean went and plugged you, huh, big fella?”

“I think it was him,” Longarm said heavily, “although I can’t be sure.”

“Who else would do it given that everyone knows what will happen to them if they’re caught? A man would have to be crazed with hatred to do such a foolish thing in Helldorado.”

“Well,” Longarm said, “why don’t you take a look at the damage and we can speculate as to who done it later.”

“Sure,” Lucy said, dropping her feet to the floor. “Come on over here and pull off your coat and your shirt.”

Longarm needed Randy’s assistance, and when he was finished removing the clothing, sweat had beaded on his forehead. Lucy had not even gotten out of her chair, and Longarm sidled up to her so that the woman could make her examination.

“How bad is it?” he asked.

“Well,” she said, leaning forward with a bar towel and dabbing the blood away, “it’s bad enough to hurt.”

“I already knew that,” Longarm said with exasperation. “is the rib damaged?”

“It appears to be.” Lucy pressed the bar towel down harder and fingered the wound. “But I don’t think it’s broken. Another fraction of an inch and it would have been a real mess. You’re a pretty lucky man.”

“Yeah,” Longarm said drily.

Lucy looked over at several of the other girls. “Myra, Betty, bring me some hot water and clean linen for bandages. And bring me a needle and thread. This needs to be sewn up or he’ll keep leaking.”

Lucy finally came out of her chair and said, “Why don’t you just sit down before you pass out.”

“I’m not going to pass out.”

“Sure, you’re just like all the other brave bastards in Helldorado. Too damned tough to be smart. You need whiskey for your pain and you look like death warmed over.”

“You’re no prize yourself,” Longarm told the woman. “How long do you go without sleep?”

“Depends on how much business I’m doing and how horny the men are on any particular day. In this shit-hole town, there isn’t much for any of us to do but drink and screw. Helldorado is a real-“

“Shut up, Lucy,” Randy ordered in a stern voice. “Your wagging tongue is going to get you in real deep trouble one of these days.”

“It already has, kid.”

A bottle arrived, and Longarm gulped down several long slugs, feeling better almost immediately as Randy and Lucy glared at each other.

Finally, Lucy managed a cold smile. “If I wasn’t wanted by the law, kid, why else do you think I’d stay in Helldorado? Hell, Randy, wake up! Everyone in this miserable town is bound for a sorry end. If you don’t believe that you’re only fooling yourself.”

“Lucy, shut up and doctor Custis!” Randy snapped. “I swear you talk too damned much.”

Lucy’s lips tightened in a hard line, and she was quiet until the hot water, needle, thread, and bandages arrived and were placed on the poker table. Then she looked at Longarm and said, “I need you back on your feet until this is over.”

Longarm stood again, and was surprised to discover that his legs felt weak and he was dizzy. The whiskey was hitting him hard, but he took another stiff drink before he laced his fingers behind his back and clenched his teeth as Lucy went to work on his torn flesh with her needle and thread. To Longarm’s relief, the suturing didn’t increase his pain. The sewing went slowly, but when it was finally done, Lucy quickly and expertly bandaged the wound, wrapping Longarm’s entire torso.

“I’m done,” Lucy said, “so you can relax and get good and drunk. Your head will feel worse for it tomorrow morning, but you’ll sleep tonight.”

Longarm sat and reached for the bottle. He wasn’t going to get drunk, but he was going to take a little more painkiller and then hobble back to his room and call it a night. He had no more than picked up the bottle, however, when he heard a big commotion outside.

“What do you suppose is going on?” Longarm asked no one in particular.

“I think they’ve already found Dean,” Randy said, looking very grim as he went to the door and peered outside. “Yep,” he called back. “They got him.”

“Lucy, what is Matthew Killion going to do to Dean?”

“I don’t exactly know,” Lucy confessed, taking a pull on Longarm’s bottle, “but I expect that he’ll die slowly.”

Longarm sucked in a deep breath. He had no love or sympathy for Dean, but neither could he stand idly by while the man was systematically tortured.

Dean howled in pain, and Longarm heard loud voices and a great deal of cursing before Matthew and Clyde Killion burst into the saloon, followed by Dean and most of the town’s outlaws.

All eyes turned to Longarm, and Killion shouted, “He’s been shot, all right. You winged him in the forearm and we caught him trying to steal one of our horses and escape.”

“It was my own damned horse!” Dean squalled. “Mister Killion, I swear I’d never steal anything from you!”

Killion hauled up short and spun around to hit Dean. The wounded outlaw’s legs buckled and he had to be supported. Killion stepped forward and hauled the man up to his toes.

“Dean, you know the rules in Helldorado. You know I won’t stand for one of us killing another. You broke that rule and you were trying to get out before you got caught.”

Dean’s head wobbled loosely on his big shoulders. His face, already a mess from the beating that he’d taken from Longarm, was now bleeding again, probably the result of the struggle it had taken to capture and deliver him to this place.

“Just let me go,” Dean begged. “I been loyal to you, Mr. Killion! I killed men for you and-“

Killion hit him again, this time crushing Dean’s lips to pulp and dropping him to the floor. Longarm came to his feet. His head was swimming and he felt reckless. “He’s no dog,” Longarm said. “So don’t beat him like one.”

Killion spun around, eyes slitting. “What did you say?”

“I said he’s not a dog,” Longarm answered evenly. “He’s a man.”

“He’s a horse thief and an ambusher,” Killion said, his voice shaking with rage. “And furthermore, he works for me and I make the rules in this town. So sit down, and if you say another word, I’ll finish what Dean could not. Do I make that very clear?”

Longarm felt the icy finger of death reaching out to tap him on the shoulder. Matthew Killion was not bluffing and Longarm, despite the revulsion he felt, knew that he would forfeit his life if he said another word.

Randy knew it too because he leaned forward and whispered, “Just shut up.”

Longarm picked up his bottle and turned to Lucy. “Thank you for the fine doctoring job, Miss Lucy. Now, if you’ll all excuse me, I need some fresh air.”

Longarm limped past Killion, their eyes locking for a moment. No one dared to stop Longarm as he found the door and passed outside, bottle clenched in his big hand. He wasn’t ready to die for a man like Dean Holt, but he sure wasn’t ready to watch the man suffer either.

Holt’s first scream was the loudest, and it sent a chill all the way down Longarm’s spine. The second scream was that of a dying animal, and Longarm was jerked up short in his tracks. He took a long drink and slowly pivoted around, a man caught between the dictates of his conscience and his own tenuous mortality. He dropped the bottle and reached for his six-gun, then started back toward the saloon. He was almost at the door when two gunshots erupted from inside.

“God damn you, Randy!” Killion shouted, his voice booming through the open doorway. “I wasn’t finished with him yet!”

“Yes, you were, Pa,” was Randy’s reply a moment before he came stumbling out of the saloon to nearly collide with Longarm.

Their eyes met and held. Then Randy said, “I’ve killed a man now, Custis. I just shot Dean.”

There was such a terrible sadness in the kid’s expression that Longarm holstered his own six-gun and then he took Randy’s gun and shoved it behind his belt.

“You didn’t kill that man, your father did,” Longarm said, taking Randy’s arm and leading him away. “Is there another saloon where we can get drunk?”

“I got a bottle of fine Kentucky mash whiskey up in my room,” Randy said. “Good stuff that I’ve been saving for a special occasion.”

“Well,” Longarm said, “this isn’t a special occasion, but we need to drink that whiskey anyway and to talk.”

“About what?” Randy asked, his expression dull with shock.

“About you and this town and the Donner Pass train robbery and a bunch of other things.”

Randy came to a sudden halt. “What do you know about that train robbery?”

Longarm chose his words carefully for he was not about to give his true identity away to Matthew Killion’s son, not yet at least.

“Men talk. Everyone in Nevada knows it was your father’s gang that robbed that train.”

“People can talk forever, but without proof …”

“Yeah,” Longarm said, “without proof it’s all just smoke, ain’t it, kid.”

“That’s right.”

They walked up the street to another hotel, and then they climbed the stairs to Randy’s room. It was spartan, but clean, and Longarm was not really surprised to see that there were a goodly number of books. Shakespeare and other poets, mostly, but also some philosophy books and, amazing for a place like this, a copy of the Holy Bible.

Longarm went over and picked the bible up while Randy found his good Kentucky mash. Longarm opened the cover and saw that the bible had been inscribed and it read: To Randy from Lupe, walk with Him always.

“Put that down!” Randy ordered.

Longarm set the bible down. “What happened to Senora Sanchez?”

Randy blinked with surprise. “How did you know about her?”

“People talk.”

Randy started to say something, but changed his mind. He clamped his mouth shut and found two clean water glasses. He filled them to the brim, and his hand was shaking so badly when he picked them up and extended one to Longarm that he spilled some whiskey.

“Who are you?” Randy whispered.

“To a better life,” Longarm said, ignoring the question as he raised his glass. “And to justice and a fresh start.”

Randy drank deeply and closed his eyes. Longarm watched as color flooded back into the kid’s face.

“You didn’t kill that man,” Longarm said gently. “Dean Holt was already a dead man. We all knew that. Your father killed him and you just put the man out of his misery. What you did was a kind and a merciful thing, Randy.”

Randy’s eyes popped open. “Do you mean that?”

“Yes, I do.”

“My father has a good side,” Randy said. “He’s always been good to Clyde and me. He’s never beat us and he’s always given us whatever we needed.”

“Except a respect for the law and for the lives of others,” Longarm said.

Randy bristled. “Maybe it looks that way to you, Custis, but he’s good to people who show him loyalty-“

“I’m not impressed. What right does your father have to judge and then execute someone like Dean?”

“The man broke our rules! Without that rule against killing each other, there would be a lot more bloodshed. It’s a rule that had to be made.”

Longarm shook his head. “I just have a hard time with someone who sets himself up with the power to give or take life. It’s not right and I think you know it.”

Randy drank quickly. His eyes blinked like things trapped inside a cage. “When are you going to tell me who you really are?”

“When the time is right.”

Randy heaved a deep sigh. “Why don’t we both just shut up and get roaring drunk!”

“Okay,” Longarm said, knowing the kid would tell him everything he needed to know about the Killion gang long before the night was over.

Chapter 15

Early the next morning, Longarm rolled stiffly off of a couch and shuffled over to look out through Randy’s hotel window. To the east, he could see the first faint glow of sunrise. Longarm wished he had a cup of coffee. He felt awful because both his head and his side throbbed with pain. One because of a bullet, the other because of the whiskey, and he couldn’t decide which one was troubling him the most.

Longarm had an important decision to make and it had to be made quickly. During the early morning hours, Randy had drunkenly confessed that his father’s gang had robbed the Union Pacific up on Donner Pass and gotten away with nearly ten thousand dollars. And while Randy had not participated in that daring train robbery, he had been told by Clyde that he would be expected to ride with the Killion gang on their upcoming raid against the Bank of Reno located on South Virginia Street. Longarm knew the bank well, for it was Reno’s biggest and he had cashed many a government travel check there. Randy had not been privy to any of the details of the upcoming robbery, not even the exact day it would occur. But Longarm had no doubt that it would occur, and that it would be successful unless he did something to thwart the Killion gang.

Even more troubling for the kid had been Senora Lupe Sanchez’s sudden and mysterious departure from Helldorado. She had simply vanished without a goodbye or an explanation to Randy.

“I don’t know if she just ran away to escape my father or … or what,” Randy had sadly confessed.

Longarm had not had the heart to tell the kid that, in his opinion, Matthew Killion had probably ordered that Lupe Sanchez be killed and her body disposed of someplace where it would never be found.

“Maybe,” Longarm had told the anguished and drunken young man, “if you can figure out some way to get us out of Helldorado for a few days, we can find the senora.”

“How?”

Longarm, frankly, wasn’t sure, but he thought it was worth a try. It was obvious that Killion’s former mistress had become like a mother to Randy. If she were found alive, Longarm felt sure that she would be able to talk Randy into betraying his father and his brother. She was, Longarm believed, the only one who had enough influence on Randy to save him from eventually making mistakes that would bring him to the gallows or at least earn him a long prison sentence.

“Randy,” Longarm now said, making the decision that they had to get out of Helldorado for a day or two and attempt to find Lupe Sanchez. “Wake up, it’s time to ride.”

Randy wasn’t easy to awaken, and when he finally managed to open his eyes, they were bloodshot.

Longarm shook the kid even harder. “We’ve got to go look for Senora Sanchez.”

Randy moaned. “I’m afraid that she’s … she’s long dead, Custis.”

“Well, we don’t know that for certain, do we? And until we find out for sure, we have to at least try to find her. Now come on and let’s get our horses and get out of here before anyone else awakens.”

Randy sat up. His face was pale and puffy. It looked like the belly of a dead carp. Longarm dragged the kid to his feet. “You need to write a note to your father explaining that we got drunk and decided to ride up to the Comstock Lode and continue our celebration.”

“Pa will kill us.”

“No, he won’t,” Longarm said, dragging the kid to a table where a pencil and pad of paper were waiting. “Now write him a note saying we’ll be back in a couple of days.”

“All right,” Randy said, “but he’s going to be madder than hell that I didn’t get permission first.”

“Life is full of disappointments,” Longarm snapped.

“Where are we really going?”

“I don’t know,” Longarm admitted. “That will depend on where you think Senora Sanchez would go to hide.”

“And if she’s dead?”

“Then you’re going to have to help me bring her killers to justice.”

Randy’s jaw dropped. “You’re a lawman! Jezus! I could have you drawn and quartered! If my father or brother-“

Longarm reached out and grabbed Randy by the front of his shirt and shook him until his teeth rattled. “Listen, damn you!” he swore. “We’re going to find out if your father had Senora Sanchez murdered.”

Longarm pushed Randy back on his heels. “Kid, I’m going to nail your father and this whole danm rotten bunch because they’re a pack of thieves and murderers. And frankly, if you try to stop me, a lot of blood is going to flow, yours, mine, and for damn sure your father and brother’s.”

Randy was sober now and shaking his head. “Custis, I just can’t betray my father and brother.”

Longarm resisted the urge to grab the kid and shake some sense into him. Instead, he knelt at Randy’s side, ignored the pain in his ribs, and said, “What if your father callously ordered Senora Sanchez’s death? Are you just going to forgive him? Allow him to murder and steal and say it’s all right because you are the same blood?”

Longarm paused for a moment and then he continued. “And what about Clyde? He’s a bully and a killer. Did you know that a trainman up on Donner Pass was pistol-whipped so viciously that he might even die? That he can’t ever work again to support his family and that his life is forever ruined?”

A sob escaped Randy’s throat. He turned away from Longarm and staggered over to sit back down on his bed. Longarm wanted to ease up on Randy, but he knew that was the wrong thing to do. He had the kid frightened, confused, and uncertain. In time, Longarm was certain that Randy would do the right thing, especially if he found out that Lupe Sanchez had come to a tragic end because she had known too much about Matthew Killion.

“Let’s go,” Longarm demanded impatiently. “We’re running out of time.”

“I’m not going,” Randy said, staring down between his feet.

Longarm grabbed Randy and hauled him erect. “You either go now, or I’m going to march over to arrest your father and let the chips fall where they may.”

“Custis, if you try that, you’re a dead man as sure as the sun is rising.”

“You’re probably right, but I’ll take your father, your brother, and a whole lot more with me.”

Randy must have believed him because he swallowed drily, then slowly nodded his head. “All right, let’s go see if we can find Lupe.”

“Now you’re making sense,” Longarm said with a wide grin. “Any ideas where we can start looking?”

“A couple.”

“Good. Let’s get out of here before someone sees us and starts asking questions.”

“Someone will anyway,” Randy said as he quickly began to dress. “Pa’s put a guard out by the road into Helldorado. He’s going to question us.”

“Then you’d better have some answers for him,” Longarm said, “because we’re leaving.”

“And if my answers aren’t good enough?”

“Then the guard might contract lead poisoning,” Longarm said, pulling on his own shirt and coat and fighting back the pain from his bullet wound.

They had no trouble getting their horses saddled even though the sun had floated off the horizon and was blazing warmth across the sage-covered hills. The blue-green pinyon and juniper pine were damp with dew and steaming. About twenty-five miles to the west, the Sierra Nevadas stood like a line of tall medieval soldiers, helmets glistening with snow. It was an extraordinarily beautiful morning and, had it not been for the possibility that he might have to kill a guard, Longarm would have greatly enjoyed this sojourn.

“There he is,” Randy said, pointing to a man who rode out from a gully and approached them with a rifle cradled across the fork of his saddle.

“Is he reasonable?” Longarm asked.

“When he’s sober,” Randy said.

“Make him a believer,” Longarm warned. “We need to act a little drunk ourselves.”

“Hello there!” Randy called to the approaching guard with a loose grin and then a dry cackle. “Stayin’ warm this morning, Gil? Or are you freezin’ your ass off?”

Gil was a nondescript fellow, all bundled up in winter clothing and wearing heavy leather gloves on his hands.

“I damn near froze last night! Gonna be relieved in about an hour and the first thing I’m going to do is to find me a whore and warm myself up in her bed.”

Randy forced a sick smile. “Me and Custis been drinkin’ and whorin’ all night. We plumb wore ‘em all out, Gil!”

“The hell you say,” Gil exclaimed, shaking his head. “Where are you fellas headed?”

“Virginia City, by gawd!”

Gil’s smile slipped. “Mr. Killion didn’t say anything about anyone leaving Helldorado this morning.”

“We’re going to have us a high old time, Gil. My father won’t care.”

Gil frowned. “I don’t think you ought to do that without asking him first.”

“He won’t mind,” Randy said, his pathetic smile fading. “Now, just don’t give me any trouble, Gil.”

“But it’s my ass if your father finds out you’re gone and he didn’t want you to. You know that we’re riding north to hit that Reno bank Friday morning.”

“We’re gonna be back a day before that,” Randy said, prodding his new buckskin forward. “This horse needs riding and I need to see some new whores.”

“Yeah, but-“

“Out of the way, Gil,” Longarm said quietly. “We’re getting thirstier by the minute.”

Gil made a feeble attempt to block their path, but Longarm reined his horse past the man, and then they were trotting down the cold road toward the Comstock Lode.

“You better not be the cause of me getting on Mr. Killion’s shit list!” Gil shouted. “You’d better not, Randy!”

Randy didn’t respond. He just kept riding, and so did Longarm. “See,” Longarm finally said cheerfully, “no problem. And now we know exactly when your father and his gang plan to rob the Bank of Reno.”

“So you can lay a trap and ambush them?”

“No,” Longarm said, “so we can lay a trap and catch them by surprise and make our arrests before anyone else gets killed or hurt.”

“They’ll never surrender.”

“Then they’ll die,” Longarm said heavily. “It’s their call, but I promise you that we’ll give them a choice. That’s the best that they can hope for, kid.”

Randy swallowed and stared straight ahead as they rode on into the cold morning to learn if Senora Lupe Sanchez was dead or alive.

Chapter 16

“All right, Randy,” Longarm said, “assuming that Senora Sanchez is still alive, where do you think she might have gone after leaving Helldorado?”

“There’s a town called Mormon Station just southwest of Carson City.”

“I know it well,” Longarm said. “The town was cursed when Brigham Young called his flock back to the Utah Territory and practically forced them to give away their land.”

“That’s right,” Randy said. “Lupe’s son lives and works there. His name is Arturo and he’s a few years older than I am.”

“Wouldn’t that be the first place anyone would look for Lupe?”

“Sure,” Randy admitted, “but Arturo would never tell anyone what he knew. But he trusts me and he’ll tell us if she’s dead or alive.”

“So how come Arturo didn’t come to Helldorado and help his mother?”

“What could he have done other than gotten himself killed?” Randy asked. “My father would never brook any interference.”

“And Lupe allowed herself to be shut off from her son?”

“Every few months she would go to visit Arturo, his wife, and two children. I would always accompany her and stay at their place. We had good times there.”

Longarm chewed on that for a few minutes. “And did it ever occur to you just to stay in Mormon Station?”

“Sure!” Randy lowered his voice. “I often thought about staying. There’s a freighting road nearby that crosses over the Sierras that I could have worked on as a mule skinner. There are plenty of ranch jobs in that Carson Valley.”

“Then why didn’t you stay?”

“Lupe would talk me out of it.”

Longarm blinked with surprise. “She talked you out of leaving Helldorado? I don’t understand.”

“She …” Randy had to clear his voice. “She loved my father. You see, he is capable of being kind and generous. The first time that they met, my father whipped two bullies who had been harassing Lupe and making her life miserable. Then, he bought Lupe roses and courted her for two years, not once crossing the bounds of a gentleman.”

“While he had his whores to play with at night,” Longarm said, “and his get-rich-quick schemes designed to fleece the innocent and trusting.”

“Lupe had an old dog,” Randy said, not listening but trying desperately hard to defend his father. “I saw my father pick it up after it had been run over by a wagon and gallop twenty miles to get it to a doctor and then pay him a hundred dollars for saving that dog’s life and making Lupe happy again.”

Longarm was not greatly impressed. “All right, so he would do anything for the senora. That’s easy enough to understand because I’ve heard she was not only beautiful, but also a fine woman.”

“She is a saint,” Randy confessed. “She also has a fine education. When my father finally talked her into moving to Helldorado, she brought boxes and boxes of books. They’re the ones you saw in my room last night. Lupe can recite poetry by the hour.”

“I still can’t understand what she saw in your father.”

“And I doubt that you ever will,” Randy said. “He’s changed a great deal in the last five years, and not for the better. Lupe loved my father, and he was true to her until a couple of years ago. That’s what hurt her the most. That, and the killing.”

“Did she talk to you about leaving?”

“Oh, yes! But even as she would talk about it, she continued to hold out hope for my father. She would read the Bible and pray for him. I never saw a woman so prayerful as Lupe. She would ask me to pray for him too. And also for my brother.”

“What did Clyde think of Lupe?”

“He hated her,” Randy admitted. “He thought she was poison. Clyde and I used to argue, and then Clyde would whip me when I defended Lupe.”

“So what finally happened?”

Randy expelled a deep breath. “Clyde got worse, and finally he whipped me so badly that I had to be taken to Carson City and looked after by the doctors. My mother … I mean Lupe, she almost killed Clyde herself. She would have if one of the Ten Commandments hadn’t forbidden her to kill. Anyway, she confronted my father and demanded that he punish Clyde with a bullwhip.”

“But your father refused?”

“You guessed it,” Randy said. “My brother was full-grown and he said he’d rather go down with a smoking gun in his hand than be horsewhipped. That was it. My father wasn’t willing to gun down Clyde, and so Lupe must have figured that she’d had enough.”

It made sense to Longarm, and he turned his thoughts to more immediate and pressing concerns. “Randy, are you any good with that six-gun?”

“I am very good with a six-gun.”

“Show me.”

“Oh, no,” Randy said wagging his aching head, “not this morning. I’m shaky and couldn’t hit anything.”

“Try,” Longarm urged. “Draw and fire at that tree over yonder. It’s important that I see exactly what you can do.”

It was a dead pinyon pine with withered branches jutting out from its trunk. Randy reined his buckskin up sharply and took another deep breath. “You aren’t going to be impressed,” he said. “Not given the horrible way I feel.”

“Just see if you can hit the tree.”

Randy drew and fired in one smooth motion. It wasn’t as fast as Longarm’s draw, but given the kid’s pathetic condition, Randy did remarkably well, and managed to get three bullets into the tree before the buckskin lowered its head and went to bucking. Randy’s gun spilled from his hand and he grabbed for leather. It was all he could do to hang on as the buckskin kicked its heels at the rising sun and almost pitched Randy into the sage.

“Dammit!” Randy hollered, finally dragging the gelding’s head up and getting the animal under control. “I’m in no mood for this kind of shit! Not in my half-dead condition!”

Longarm had to laugh at the poor kid’s misery even though it hurt his own bandaged ribs. He dismounted and retrieved Randy’s six-gun, and then he walked over to the pinyon and studied the bullet holes.

“Damn good shooting by anyone, drunk or sober,” was his pronouncement. “You’ve practiced a lot, haven’t you?”

“Yeah,” Randy confessed. “I knew right from the start that I’d never be as big or as strong as my brother and that he’d always kick my butt. There came a time when I learned that Mister Colt would have to be my equalizer.”

“As it is for a lot of men,” Longarm said. “And I suspect that’s what finally kept you from getting your head beat in by Clyde.”

“Maybe.”

Longarm gave the kid back his gun. “I just hope that Lupe Sanchez is still alive. She sounds like the kind of woman I’d like to meet.”

“You won’t charm her,” Randy warned. “She’s too Christian a woman to fall for the likes of you.”

“She fell for your father.”

“And has regretted it ever since,” Randy said, his eyes on the distant mountains.

They arrived at Arturo Sanchez’s little farm late that afternoon, and it was just as Randy had described. Arturo raised a few head of cattle, traded horses, and had a truck garden and a big chicken pen. Randy had said that Arturo also worked for some of the neighboring ranches during haying season, and did odd jobs in town when someone was sick, injured, or just needed an extra hand.

Arturo was a handsome man in his early twenties, with a soft, round wife named Monica who giggled a lot and two of the cutest little daughters a man could ever hope to love.

“Come inside,” Arturo said, leaving the wagon wheel he had been repairing. “The wind, she is cold and I have some tequila.”

Even the mere mention of a drink caused Randy to blanch and shake his head vigorously.

“The hair of the dog,” Longarm told the kid from Helldorado. “A few nips will perk you up.”

“No, thanks. You’ve never tasted Arturo’s tequila, but I have.”

Randy’s remark was made only partially in jest, and it caused Arturo to laugh and his wife to giggle. They went inside a small two-room cabin, and there was a fire burning in the hearth and Monica Sanchez had a pot of beans and beef bubbling.

“You’re gonna love her cooking,” Randy promised.

Randy’s prediction was right on the mark, and Longarm ate until he was ready to burst. Besides the beans and beef, there were hot corn bread muffins with honey, and then later, coffee and even a delicious spice cake.

The meal and the company should have resulted in a happy occasion, but it did not. Arturo and Randy tried to sound as if they were having fun, but Longarm could sense that there was a tension between them and that the two young men were eager to talk about Lupe Sanchez.

“Let me show you the new mule that I bought to pull the plow for Monica’s garden next spring,” Arturo suggested a short time later.

Longarm allowed as how that would be interesting, and he tagged along behind the two men as they walked to the barn. It was a small barn and the mule was in poor condition and unsound.

“What is wrong with him?” Randy asked.

“He was beaten too much and starved,” Arturo said. “He went lame after being forced to pull too big a load up the mountain too often, eh?”

“Will he recover?”

The Mexican shrugged. “I paid only five dollars for him. With rest this winter, and with lots of food and even the prayers of my family, who knows? It is up to God, eh?”

“Yes,” Randy said, “it is up to him. I hope that he makes your mule well, Arturo.”

“Me too,” the Mexican said. He toed the earth. “Have you come to ask about Mother?”

“I have.”

“After all these months? Why?”

Randy shifted his weight and jammed his hands into his pockets. “I longed to know about her from the moment she disappeared. I agonized to come here, but I was afraid it would cause you trouble. And I thought that, if I didn’t come, maybe Lupe would be better off and so would you.”

Arturo accepted this. “And what do you want to know?”

“Is she alive?” His voice held a desperate note that no one could have failed to miss.

Arturo walked around the mule so that it was between them, and he scratched the animal’s large ears. “Do you swear secrecy?”

“Of course! On my life, Arturo!”

The fanner turned to regard Longarm, although he was still speaking to Randy. “And what of this tall friend with the bullet wound in his side? Why should I trust a stranger?”

“Because,” Longarm said, digging into his pocket and showing the Mexican his United States marshal’s badge, “I’m a federal lawman.”

If Arturo was surprised, Randy was astonished. “My God! You’ve been carrying that on your person in Helldorado!”

“No one was going to take it off me unless they killed me first,” Longarm said, “and if they did that, why should I care anymore?”

“You’re crazy,” Randy said.

“You’re a marshal,” Arturo said. “Then you should hear what I have to say about this evil thing that happened to my mother.”

“I’m listening.”

“She ran away from Helldorado and they had chased her almost to this place before the darkness fell. When I found her in this barn, she had been shot.”

“No!” Randy wailed.

Tears seeped from Arturo’s eyes. “It is true. My mother was shot by two of your father’s men.”

“How do you know this?”

“Because she told me who they were.”

“Their names!” Randy choked.

“You do not want t-“

Randy shouted, “Damnit, their names!”

“One was named Dean. The other was your brother.”

“Is the senora still alive?” Longarm asked.

“Se” Arturo said after a moment’s hesitation. “She lives!”

Joy sprang back into Randy’s eyes. “Thank God!” he cried. “Where is she? I want to see her!”

“No,” Arturo said. “She has gone away.”

“But where?”

“To California. To Sonora, Where there are many of our Mexican people. It is just over the mountains, and I have already gone to visit her twice. She is going to be well soon, but she will never return to Nevada.”

Randy bowed his head and Longarm thought the kid was crying again, until he realized that Randy was offering a prayer of thanks.

Before Longarm went to bed that night, Monica changed his bandages and cleaned his wound. “It’s not a very pretty thing for you to see,” he said in the way of an apology.

“You will soon heal, senor.”

“That’s good to hear,” Longarm said, speaking directly to Randy. “There’s a lot of work to be done in the next few days.”

“That’s right,” Randy said, his face set with determination. “There is.”

That was all that Longarm wanted to hear, and later that night he slept better than he had in months. It was almost nine o’clock the next morning when one of Arturo’s children finally forgot to be silent and awakened him with laughter.

Longarm smiled. He realized that to awaken to the laughter of a child was a blessing.

“Breakfast, Senor Long?” Monica asked.

“I apologize for sleeping so late,” Longarm said. “I expect the household has been up for hours, everyone creeping around and trying not to make a sound and wake me.”

“No,” she said, “everyone noisy, but you snore so loud you cannot hear us.”

Longarm chuckled at that, and took his place at Monica’s table. There were eggs, ham, and flapjacks, of which he ate piles. “I swear that if I had regular cooking like this, I’d be as big as a horse.”

Monica beamed, her face round and gentle as she went to see to her children.

Longarm finished his breakfast, and went outside to discover that Randy’s buckskin and his own ugly black gelding were saddled and bridled.

“We’re leaving now?” Longarm asked with surprise.

“I’ve got scores to settle.”

“Whoa up there,” Longarm said. “This is my kind of game and we’re playing by my rules.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that we’re going to bring your father’s gang to justice without a bunch of good men getting killed, us being among ‘em. Is that clear?”

“NO.”

“It will become so as we ride,” Longarm said, grunting with pain as he climbed stiffly into his saddle.

“Side hurts pretty bad, huh?” Randy asked.

“It’s more of a bother. How is your head today?”

“Clear and seeing things for the way they are, thank you,” Randy said with a smile.

“Good,” Longarm said, liking the spark and determination he was witnessing in the kid.

They said a hurried goodbye to the Sanchez family, and rode away with prayers for their safety ringing in their ears.

“Nice family,” Longarm said, looking back and waving.

“Arturo said that my father came here not too long ago.”

“He did?”

“That’s right,” Randy answered. He turned to look at Longarm. “And do you know what else Arturo said?”

“No.”

“My father threatened to kill the lot of them if Lupe ever testified or named him as the leader of that train robbery.”

“I see.”

Randy’s voice shook with anger. “Can you believe that! My father threatened to kill the children!”

“I imagine that Arturo is pretty scared.”

“Damn right,” Randy said. “Clyde and my father lashed him to a post in the barn and used a whip on him until he bled. When he still wouldn’t tell them where Lupe had gone, they nearly went after Monica and the kids, but he begged them to leave his family alone, and finally they did.”

“They could have a change of heart and return to Arturo’s homestead and carry out that threat.”

“I know that,” Randy said. “And that’s why I’m going to do whatever it takes to make sure that they never hurt anyone again.”

“We’re going to Reno,” Longarm told the kid. “We’re going to see the marshal there and tell him about that upcoming bank robbery.”

“But why can’t we just tell the authorities that we have evidence and let them take a ride into Helldorado? Hell, Custis, they could even drag the United States Army into it.”

“And a lot of good soldiers would be killed. No,” Longarm said, “we’ll catch them in the act of robbery so that there can be no doubt as to their guilt.”

“Whatever you say,” Randy replied.

“Which brings me to another question,” Longarm added. “Do you know where your father has stashed that Donner Pass train robbery money?”

“He’s spent a lot of it,” Randy said. “Those Helldorado girls and all that whiskey don’t come cheap.”

“I was afraid you’d say that.”

“My father has a big floor safe in his office. I’ve never looked inside it, but I think Desiree knows the combination.”

“What makes you think so?”

“She knows everything,” Randy said. “After Lupe left, she just moved in and took over.”

“It’s not hard to see why,” Longarm said, remembering that body.

“Desiree is a witch,” Randy said. “She is poison.”

“Yeah,” Longarm agreed with a wink, “but we all have to die sometime.”

“She even tried to pull me into her web,” Randy confessed, missing Longarm’s poor attempt at humor. “Can you believe that? She tried to get me to hump her one day out in the hills.”

“Why?”

“It wasn’t because of my irresistible good looks and philosophical bent of mind,” Randy said. “She’s screwing Clyde too. I think she’s doing it to use one of us against the other. That’s all that I can figure.”

“She does sound evil.”

“You don’t know the half of it,” Randy said, lapsing into his own deep thoughts. Longarm guessed that the kid had a lot on his mind. Like the killing or arrest of his accursed father and brother and the suffering that they’d inflicted on Lupe Sanchez, Arturo, and his wonderful little family.

“You’re in all the way with me, aren’t you, Randy?”

“I’m in,” he vowed. “I’m in until we either get them or they get us.”

“Good,” Longarm said as he drummed his heels against the ugly black’s ribs and sent it galloping toward Reno with Randy’s buckskin matching him stride for stride.

Chapter 17

Marshal Gus Bell hadn’t said a word since Longarm and the kid from Helldorado had started to tell their story. But now, with the story finished, he leaned back in his office chair and said, “Friday morning, the Bank of Reno, huh?”

“That’s the plan,” Longarm said. “It might change, but that’s how it stood when we left early yesterday morning.”

Bell nodded, and then his gaze settled on Randy. “No double crosses?”

“No,” Randy vowed. “But Custis has promised me that there will be no slaughter. He said that my father, brother, and the gang will be given every opportunity to surrender.”

“You said that?” the marshal of Reno asked, head swiveling to regard Longarm.

“I did and meant it,” Longarm said. “My view is that we let them get into the bank and then we slam the door on them.”

“Why wait?” Bell demanded. “If we do that, innocent bank personnel could get hurt.”

“Replace them with local and federal lawmen,” Longarm suggested. “We need to actually catch the gang in the act of committing the robbery.”

“Why?” Gus asked. “You just said that Randy is willing to testify that the Killion gang was responsible for that train robbery on Donner Pass.”

“And what if Randy were to be eliminated?” Longarm asked. “If that happened, our star witness and probably our prosecution’s case would vanish like smoke in the wind. We can’t win on the basis of one witness anyway. They’ll produce other witnesses to say that Matthew Killion and his bunch were seen somewhere else on the day of that train robbery.”

“I guess you’re right,” Bell admitted. “But I sure don’t like the idea of using our bank as a shooting gallery.”

“We’ll do everything possible to avoid that,” Longarm said with more assurance than he really felt.

“Okay,” Bell said, “I’ll start getting help right away and I’ll put them in the bank, replacing the regular people.”

“Good,” Longarm said. “Killion will probably keep a few men outside to watch for trouble and to hold the horses. We need to take care of them and make sure that there is no escape.”

“Any ideas?”

“A few,” Longarm said. “I’ll try and be one of the gang’s inside men, and Randy, maybe you can persuade your father to let you stay outside and help hold the horses. As soon as it begins to happen, you can get the drop on the others outside and we can rush them off the street without a shot being fired.”

“You make it sound very easy,” Randy said.

“It won’t be. Whatever can go wrong almost certainly will go wrong. But if we eliminate their means of escape, I’m hoping that they’ll just surrender.”

“I think you’re being wildly optimistic,” Gus Bell said. “But I’m going to play it according to your rules. After all, you’re the one who’s bringing them in to us on a platter.”

“Well,” Longarm said, extending a hand to Gus, “we’ll see you tomorrow morning. Right now, though, we’d better make tracks for Helldorado.”

“It’s a pretty long ride,” Bell said. “You’ll almost have to change horses and turn around to be back here by tomorrow morning when the Bank of Reno opens.”

“I know that.”

Bell frowned. “And it’s easy to see that your side wound is paining you, Custis.”

“It’ll hold up,” Longarm said, heading for the door.

He was stopped by Bell’s voice. “Oh, by the way, I thought you’d like to know that your Wyoming girl got herself monied.”

Longarm turned, and a smile touched the corners of his mouth. “Irma got married already?”

“That’s right. She’s got a husband along with Sam Allen’s money and respectability.”

“Just keep an eye out in case Irma’s past comes riding in to cause her grief,” Longarm asked.

“I’ll do that,” Bell promised. “And about our beautiful Lady Caroline?”

“What about her?”

Gus winked. “I’m taking her out in a surrey to watch the mustangs next week and maybe have a little picnic and whatever else she might want to enjoy-“

“Dammit, Gus, I was supposed to do that!”

“Sorry, but Caroline got tired of waiting. We’ve been out to dinner twice now and she trusts me.”

“You sly sonofabitch,” Longarm said with annoyance. “You’ve moved in on my territory.”

“You’re right,” Gus admitted, looking delighted with himself. “Lady Caroline is a remarkable woman, and she is very attracted to a man who carries a badge. We’re just getting along swimmingly.”

Longarm swore under his breath as he tramped out the door. After they climbed into their saddles, Randy asked, “What was that all about?”

“Lady Caroline.”

“What is she, royalty of some kind?”

“That’s right,” Longarm said, angrily reining his horse into the street. “And if we live through tomorrow, I’ll tell you all about her.”

Randy looked confused, but Longarm was too pissed off at Marshal Gus Bell to care.

“You sonofabitch!” Killion swore, his fist driving up to connect against the side of Longarm’s jaw and send him crashing to the floor.

Stunned, Longarm almost went for his six-gun, but Randy jumped in before his father could kick Longarm in his wounded side. “It was my fault, dammit! I told you that! I’m the one who wanted to go to Virginia City! Not Custis. He just went along for the ride.”

“You knew we’d planned to rob a bank in Reno tomorrow, didn’t you!”

“Yes, Gil told me, but-“

The flat of Matthew Killion’s hand smashed into Randy’s face. The kid staggered, and Clyde caught and shoved him back at their father. “Kick his uppity educated ass!”

“Shut up!” Killion hissed, turning his rage on his eldest. “Clyde, you’re too gawddamn dumb and mean to even be tolerated!”

Clyde, one moment grinning like a fool at the expense of his kid brother, now shrank back, eyes bright and filled with pent-up hatred. “You don’t be talking to me like that, Pa! Not in front of everybody!”

Matthew Killion took a menacing step toward his brutish son. “You imbecile! You worthless, bloody …”

The words died in his throat as Clyde drew his gun and grinned wolfishly. “You ain’t gonna say those things no more about me, Pa! I swear you’ll take ‘em back right now or I’ll send you straight to hell!”

Killion froze. “Put the gun away,” he ordered, eyes darting to the other men to see if they would help. But no one moved.

“Apologize, Mister Killion,” Clyde yelled in a menacing voice, “or I’ll drill a hole in you!”

Longarm met Randy’s eyes, and they were scared. “Easy,” he whispered.

“Apologize, you miserable, weak old sonofabitch!” Clyde screamed at his father.

Killion snapped, “In hell I will!”

Clyde’s gun bucked in his fist twice, and Matthew Killion began to stumble back until he crashed over a table.

“Pa!” Randy cried, rushing over to his father.

“He’d lived too long anyway,” Clyde said, coming up swiftly behind Randy and pistol-whipping him across the back of the head. Randy grunted and collapsed across his father’s body.

Longarm started to go for his six-gun, but he changed his mind as Clyde spun on him and said, “You with us, or against us?”

“With you,” Longarm said, knowing he was a hairs-breadth from dying.

Clyde quivered with excitement, and then he looked around at the other outlaws, who were frozen in shock. “The Reno bank job is still on for tomorrow morning,” Clyde told them, taking command. “It’s all been planned and it’s going to happen, only I’m going to give you all bigger shares than my pa would have. Are you boys riding for Clyde Killion now?”

One man finally dipped his chin in assent, then another and another, until they were all nodding.

“Good,” Clyde said with satisfaction. “Then we leave Helldorado and ride out at midnight.”

Desiree had been watching. Satisfied that a new master had taken control, she sidled over to Clyde, slipped her arm around his thick waist, and pressed her hip against his. “What do you want me to do?” she purred.

Clyde practically drooled on her. “You’ll pleasure me until midnight, what else?”

She smiled and looked down at the unconscious Randy. “And what about the kid?”

Clyde holstered his gun. “He’s gonna earn his share this time. He’s gonna ride up in the front with the grown men.”

“But he’s out cold,” she said with what she probably thought was a sympathetic tone of voice.

“He’ll ride with us at midnight,” Clyde vowed. “Either sitting in his saddle or lashed across it. Either way, the fair-haired boy is going to finally get his little hands dirty.”

Desiree smiled seductively. Her hand brushed across Clyde’s crotch. “Aren’t you all done talking yet?” she breathed.

“Yeah,” he said, propelling her toward the stairs and his father’s office, “we ain’t going to talk anymore unless it’s you beggin’ me for more of my meat.”

Desiree laughed shrilly, and Longarm hurried to Randy’s side with gunsmoke and death hanging in the air all around them. Matthew Killion was dead, but what had taken his place was even more evil.

The next morning, the Killion gang drifted into Reno in small groups, no more than three together, and they tied their horses up around the Bank of Reno. Just before entering the town, Longarm had learned that he was to help hold the horses, while Randy was going inside the bank along with Clyde and four others. The remainder of the gang were to just hang around and be ready in case there was any trouble.

“Good luck,” Longarm said in a soft voice as Randy headed into the bank.

Randy glanced back at Longarm, and he was obviously scared and unwell. He’d taken a vicious pistol-whipping, and it was a wonder that he was even able to stand up and walk this morning, much less to have endured the long night ride over from Helldorado.

As soon as the door closed behind Randy and the other outlaws, Longarm turned on the other three men holding horses and drew his six-gun.

“Put your hands up and grab saddlehorns,” he ordered. “Don’t say a word and you might even live to stand trial.”

The three outlaws twitched, but when Longarm cocked back the hammer of his Colt, they were quick to follow his orders. At the same time, Gus Bell and his deputies were catching the other outside members of the Killion gang by complete surprise and without a shot being fired.

“Got ‘em all!” Bell called out in a low but jubilant voice to Longarm. “Now get ‘em off the street and get ready for the ones inside!”

Longarm quickly disarmed his three captives and handed them over to Bell’s deputies. He turned to look at the bank door and made his decision. “I’m going in there.”

“Are you crazy?”

“They won’t realize there’s a problem out here,” Longarm explained, holstering his gun, “and I want to be close to that kid if lead starts flying.”

Bell didn’t like it, but he understood. “Just don’t be slow to duck.”

Longarm went through the bank door. Clyde had his gun trained on the supposed bank personnel, while Randy and the others were stuffing cash into money sacks.

When Randy saw Longarm out of the corner of his eye, he seemed to reach his own decision. He dropped the sack he had been stuffing with greenbacks and went for his six-gun.

“Everyone freeze and nobody gets hurt!” he cried.

Clyde had already caught Randy’s sudden movement out of the corner of his eye and was going for his gun. Longarm made a desperate stab for his own weapon.

Randy’s Colt bucked first, but Longarm’s six-gun barked only a fraction of a second later. The two shots were so tightly spaced that they blended into one. Clyde’s shirtfront blossomed crimson. He lifted on his toes and tried to level his gun. Longarm shot the big bastard cleanly between the eyes while the other outlaws clawed for their guns.

During the next few heartbeats, four more members of the Killion gang died, the victims of a fusillade of gunfire from many directions. The wonder, Longarm later was to realize, was that a lot of innocent men were not killed in the heavy crossfire.

“Hold your fire!” Longarm bellowed. “Everyone hold their fire!”

The interior of the Bank of Reno was riddled and choking with acrid gunsmoke. Longarm holstered his gun and rushed over to the kid from Helldorado. “Are you all right?”

“I killed my own brother,” Randy whispered.

“You actually missed him,” Longarm said. “My bullets brought him down. I put the one between Clyde’s eyes.”

“You did?”

“Damn right,” Longarm said, knowing that he was telling a half truth. Randy’s bullet had actually scored first, and would soon have proved fatal if Longarm hadn’t drilled Clyde two more times, once through the lung and finally through the brain.

“I’m leaving,” Randy said, looking badly shaken. “I’m getting the hell out of this town.”

“Where are you going to?”

“To Mormon Station, then Sonora.” Randy took a deep breath and fingered his violated scalp. “What about you, Custis?”

“I’m going to Denver. Marshal Bell can arrest Desiree and get her to open your father’s safe. I’m finished with Helldorado. I don’t ever want to see the damned place again.”

“Me neither,” Randy said as they stepped outside to drink in the cool, clean air and leave the killing far behind.