Longarm and the Hostage Woman

Longarm shook his head. “It doesn’t matter.”

“What are you going to catch him for? What crime are you going to charge him with?” she said.

Longarm said, “Well, I’d like to stop him from committing another one. But as it stands now, I’ve got enough on him to put him away for a good long time, including what he’s done to you. Then there’s bigamy and the business of taking a United States deputy marshal hostage. Oh, I’d say the young man has quite a few discards in his pile that he’s going to have to answer for, but right now, my main interest is to stop him in his latest scheme. I think a man’s life might well be in jeopardy, but more than that, I fear that there might be enough cash money involved that it would cause him to try and break from this country and escape abroad either to South America or someplace in Europe, England or such.”

She said, “you know, it’s funny. I don’t hate Richard. I guess I should. I should hope that you hold him down and stick lit cigarettes to him or cigars as he did to me several times. But I don’t. That’s funny, isn’t it?”

Longarm said, “No, some folks are just of a more forgiving nature, I guess.”

They didn’t talk any more for a while. The terrain was beginning to ease and Longarm took hope as the country grew tamer. They were almost onto prairie. With the exception of the mesquite and post oak and the greasewood bushes, it would have been easy going. Now he pressed on more toward the north. one advantage he had about coming in at night was that he would be able to see the lights of Nuevo Laredo and Laredo from quite a distance off. That, however, was about the only advantage he could see. once, after they had been riding on the level prairie for half an hour, his horse suddenly stumbled, and for one sickening moment, Longarm thought he was going down, but then he took three quick steps and righted himself. For a few strides after that, he limped and Longarm thought he had injured a cannon bone in his right front leg. He held his breath for another four or five minutes until the horse settled back into a gait.

Longarm got out his watch and struck a match to see the time. It was a quarter of nine. He wasn’t sure at what time they had left the ranch. He guessed it was somewhere around six. He had estimated it was about a four-hour trip to Nuevo Laredo. That was based on the time they had taken when they had brought him out, but that had been four men on good horses who knew the country. Now they were one man and one woman on two sorry horses and neither one of them knew the country.

Then, at long last, he saw a faint glow on the horizon. If he was correct in his reckoning, they should be seeing the Monterrey Road at any time. It was difficult to tell how far away the lights were; it depended on how clear the air was. Sometimes, in the desert, you could see something that looked a mile or two away and it would turn out to be fifty miles. He knew, of course, that the lights of Laredo weren’t that far away, but right then, he would have liked for them to have been numbered in yards rather than miles.

In another five minutes, they struck the Monterrey Road and turned left and headed toward the glow of the towns. Sarah said faintly, “Is it much farther? I don’t know how much longer I can hold on.”

He pulled her horse up level with his. He said, “Take it easy, Sarah. We’ve got it made now, I think.”

But, almost as he said it, Sarah’s horse gave a sigh and began to quiver. Longarm could feel him—his leg was pressed up against the shoulder of the horse—and he knew the animal was foundering. As quick as he could, he stopped both animals and jumped from his own horse. He ran around to Sarah’s horse, pulling out his penknife as he did. There was one remedy that old ranchers had said would work sometimes. He jammed the blade of his knife into the horse’s neck. Blood gushed forth for a moment and then slowed to a trickle. Little by little, the trembling slowed and the animal seemed to start breathing better. In a frightened voice, Sarah said, “What’s wrong? Why did you stick the knife in him?”

“It’s supposed to cool their blood off. They get overheated and founder and then die. We may have saved him, I don’t know.”

He decided to walk and lead both animals for a ways. He was not particularly fond of walking in high-heeled boots, but right then, he was so scared that the horse would drop dead on him, he didn’t know what to do. He didn’t think the animal he was riding could carry double even if that double was someone as light as Sarah.

He walked for thirty minutes, giving both horses a rest as they shambled along. Finally, his feet couldn’t take it any longer and he remounted. They rode on.

The lights were much closer now. He could almost make out the dim outline of buildings. He guessed they were no more than a mile or two from the outskirts of Nuevo Laredo. off to his left, he thought he could see the white house where he had been taken prisoner. It was a strange feeling to see that place after so long. It was dark and looked uninhabited, but he felt sure it was the same place.

He nursed them in, reaching Nuevo Laredo, going slowly through the streets, drawing stares. He supposed Sarah looked odd sitting atop the big long-legged Mexican pony with her shortened stirrups and her dress ballooned up around her hips. She had smoothed it down as best as she could, but he knew she still felt awkward and embarrassed. Normally, he would have walked around the town, but he couldn’t trust the two horses so he took the straightest line he could.

They passed over customs at the International Bridge and kept going. It was another half mile to the best hotel on the border. A big square concrete and brick building that had been welcoming travelers ever since Longarm had been on the border. He didn’t know if he had been recognized by any one in U.S. customs or not. He did know from what Sarah had said that Richard Harding had done criminal business with U.S. customs inspectors, but he believed they knew nothing about Harding’s plans for Earl Combs and his

$200,000.

He pulled up in front of the hotel and eased tiredly out of the saddle. Before he helped Sarah down, he pulled the shotgun out of the boot and crooked it over his arm. Then he reached up, grasped Sarah under the shoulders and lifted her off the mount. She could barely stand. He had to walk her back and forth before she could regain her legs. Finally, he said, “Are you ready to go in and get a bath and a good meal and whatever clean clothes they can scare up for you?”

She looked up at him, her eyes almost glazed over. She said, “Oh my, oh my, oh my.”

He said, “From the look of things, I’ve got to get us separate rooms in here. Do you understand?”

She nodded. “I suppose so.” She suddenly gripped his arm very hard. “But I’m afraid. Richard has friends in this town.”

Longarm said grimly, “So do I.”

Chapter 9

The owner of the hotel was an old acquaintance. His name was Martin Silver and he had been around the border long enough to have given favors and taken favors and kept secrets and he had learned not to ask too many questions. Once he was summoned by the desk clerk, things moved rapidly. Longarm got them adjoining rooms on the second floor. He told Sarah truthfully that the hotel was known for its strong doors and reliable locks. He didn’t think there was a chance that she would be in any danger during the time he would have to be gone, but she looked like a lady who needed all the reassurance she could get. He got her settled in her room. A bath had been arranged for her and Martin Silver had assured Longarm that he would find some woman’s clothes for the lady even if he had to send home to his own house. The kitchen was still operating and a meal would be sent up for both of them, but Longarm stopped him at that point and asked that his be held. He said, “Martin, I’ve got important business that’s got to be taken care of. Now, I’m going to leave this lady in your care and I’m going to assume that she will be just fine when I get back from some business that I need to tend to.”

Martin Silver was a distinguished-looking gentleman in his early fifties, but Longarm knew there was rawhide under the gentlemanly manners and dress. Silver said, “Custis, you can be sure that the hospitality of the house also extends to the lady’s safety. I will see to that.”

Longarm smiled. “That’s good enough for me, Martin.”

When the hotel owner had left the room, Longarm turned to Sarah and said, “Now look. They’re going to bring you up a bath. Have a good soak. They’ll bring you up a good dinner. Perhaps they’ll send you up a bottle of good wine or whatever you ask for. Ask for whatever you want. They’ll bring you up some clean clothes. I want you to rest.”

She looked fearful. She asked, “Where are you going? What are you going to do?”

He said, “I’ve got to get down to the telegraph office and make some arrangements. I don’t know how long it’s going to take. I’ll be back as quickly as I can. Nothing is going to happen to you.”

Surprisingly, she said, “What about that poor horse? The one I was riding?”

That made him smile. He said, “That horse is past the danger. When I bled him, it cooled him off and he didn’t founder. I’ll see that the horses are well taken care of, so don’t worry about it.”

She put her hands down along the inside of her thighs and looked up at him ruefully. She said, “I don’t think I’m going to be good for anything for a while. I think I’m rubbed raw.”

He laughed at her. He said, “Don’t worry about that right now. I know you’ve been under a nervous strain; you’ve ridden a horse astride for the first time in your life and for a long ways. Sarah, you did real good. You not only saved your life, I think you may have saved mine. Now we have to stop Richard before he can get up to any more devilment.”

She looked up at him anxiously. She said, “I know I’m being silly but will you just kiss me before you go?”

Longarm leaned down and gave her a tender, soft kiss on the lips and then he turned. He said, “I have to hurry.”

“I understand.”

He opened the door. “Lock this door behind me and keep it locked unless you know who it is on the other side.”

“Yes.”

Then he was out the door and hurrying down the stairs. He walked rapidly through the lobby and out the front door. The boy from the stable was standing there holding the horses’ heads. Longarm flipped him a silver dollar. The boy caught it in the air. Longarm said, “Take that dun on into the stable and cool him out and feed him up. I’m going to have to use this roan for about another hour or so and then I’ll drop him off at the stable. I want both of them given real special care. You comprende?”

“Si, senor. Yo comprendo.”

Longarm mounted the roan and turned him toward the other side of town where the railway station and the telegraph station were located. He knew the roan was almost played out so he held down the impulse to put the horse into a gallop and only asked him for a fast walk. It was just as well because he knew he had a hell of a telegram to compose and send Billy Vail. He spent the time that it took him to get to the train depot trying to compose the telegram in his head. It sounded confusing even to him. He had no idea what Billy Vail would make of it.

He tied his horse and went up the steps to the telegraph office and asked for a blank. He walked over to the writing desk. From the looks of things, it might just take more than one blank to get this one off.

The telegram was addressed to Billy Vail, Chief Marshal, Denver, Colorado. It requested immediate delivery at whatever location Mr. Vail was at. The telegram read:

URGENT YOU CONTACT FEDERAL BANKING AUTHORITIES IN SAN ANTONIO STOP URGENTLY REQUEST THEY COMPLY WITH ANY SCHEME PUT FORTH BY JUDGE RICHARD HARDING TO EXCHANGE PRISONER EARL COMBS FOR ME STOP HARDING WILL HAVE LETTER FROM ME INDICATING I AM A PRISONER STOP HE WILL ALSO HAVE MY BADGE STOP I EXPECT HE WILL HAVE SOME PROPOSAL WHEREBY HE CAN FREE ME AND ALSO GET THE INFORMATION FROM COMBS AS TO WHERE HE HAS HIDDEN THE $200,000 THAT HE STOLE FROM THE FEDERAL BANKING SYSTEM STOP I AM NO LONGER A PRISONER BUT HAVE ESCAPED AND AM IN LAREDO STOP IT IS VITAL THAT JUDGE RICHARD HARDING NOT KNOW THIS STOP HARDING IS A CROOK STOP HARDING IS A MURDERER STOP HARDING IS THE ONE THAT TOOK ME HOSTAGE STOP IS NECESSARY HE BE ALLOWED TO PROCEED WITH HIS PLAN STOP YOU MUST PERSUADE THE FEDERAL BANKING AUTHORITIES IN SAN ANTONIO TO RELEASE COMBS TO HIM STOP I AM GOING TO INTERCEPT BOTH OF THEM AT THIS END I HAVE EVERY REASON TO BELIEVE HE WILL MAKE STRAIGHT FOR LAREDO STOP REQUEST THAT YOU ALSO NOTIFY ANY U.S. DEPUTY MARSHAL IN SAN ANTONIO WHO IS CONNECTED WITH THIS MATTER TO FOLLOW HARDING AND ANYONE ELSE WITH HIM AND NOTIFY ME IN LAREDO OF HARDING’S MOVEMENTS AND WHAT TRAIN HE WILL BE TAKING AND WHEN HE CAN BE EXPECTED IN LAREDO STOP URGENT HARDING NOT GET WIND THAT I AM FREE STOP BILLY, YOU BETTER NOT LET ME DOWN ON THIS ONE STOP OR I WILL WRING YOUR SCRAWNY NECK STOP I WANT THAT SON OF A BITCH STOP YOU BETTER NOT MAKE ANY MISTAKES STOP URGENT YOU WIRE ME, IMMEDIATELY TONIGHT, $500 STOP YOU BETTER NOT BE OUT OF TOWN STOP

The telegram took three blanks. He took the forms over and handed them to the operator, a vinegary-looking old man wearing black sleeve guards. The surprised operator read the forms over, one by one in order. He glanced up at Longarm. He said, “Who’s sending this?”

Longarm said, “It’s signed Custis Long, U.S. Deputy Marshal.”

“How am I supposed to know you’re a deputy marshal?”

Longarm pulled out the revolver he had taken from Chulo. He didn’t like the feel of it. It was not a .44 caliber, but a .45. It didn’t have the same feel in his hand and it didn’t fit his holster, which had been handcrafted for his own pistol, a revolver. He reminded himself that Richard Harding had taken it from him and it was probably at the damned ranch. But the .45 would have to do. He showed it to the telegraph operator.

Longarm said, “For the time being, this is my badge. Now send the damned telegram or do I have to do it myself?”

The skinny operator swallowed visibly, his Adam’s apple going up and down. He said, “Well, you ain’t got to get huffy about it, Marshal.”

Longarm said, “I ain’t huffy. I’m just in a hurry. It’s nearly eleven-o’clock. That makes it midnight in Denver. The man I am sending this to goes to bed with the chickens. I’d hate to have to wake him up too late, it might stop his heart.”

The operator said, “You ain’t supposed to say ‘son of a bitch’ in one of these wires. This here is U.S. government wire it’s being sent over, even though it belongs to the telegraph company.”

“That’s fine. ‘Son of a bitch’ is a federal word being sent by a federal officer over federal wire. Now send it!”

The operator swallowed again. He said, “Yes, Sir.”

The telegraph came to $12, which Longarm believed was the most he had ever paid to send a wire. He could, of course, claim government privilege, but he had given the man such a fright that he had decided to pay it anyway. It would just be another thing for Billy Vail to bitch about on his expense voucher. When the telegraph was gone, Longarm said, “Now, I’m down at the River Hotel. Any wires that come for me, Custis Long, had better reach me. Fast.”

The operator looked up at him, surprised. He asked, you the one they call Longarm?”

Longarm said, “Yes.”

The telegraph operator said, “Well, why in the hell didn’t you say so in the first place? I would have been glad to have this thing sent off ten minutes sooner. Hell, word is that you’re a pretty good man.”

“Well, this pretty good man is about whipped. I need some supper and about half a bottle of whiskey and a bath and some decent clothes.”

As he was about to turn away, the telegraph operator said curiously, “Is Judge Richard Harding really a crook?”

Longarm whipped around. He said, “You know what will happen to you if word of that goes outside of this office.”

The telegraph operator said, “It ain’t going outside this office, but what you said in this telegram just goes along with what a lot of folks in this town have been thinking.”

Longarm nodded. “I’m glad to hear that. Now where is there a haberdashery open this time of night where I can get some clean clothes?”

The telegrapher said, “Well, should be a couple of places down near the middle of town still open where you can get some jeans and a shirt, if that be all you’re wanting. But say, Marshal, something you might want to know. I ain’t been on duty all that long but seems like I heard that Judge Harding come in on the afternoon train. I didn’t see him myself, you understand?”

Longarm squinted his eyes at the man. He asked, “You just heard it?”

“It was just kind of passed on, you know, like it was not of any importance. I heard one of the loading-dock employees say something about having seen Judge Harding.”

Longarm bit his lip. He said, “What the hell is today, anyway?”

The telegrapher said, “Friday.”

Longarm wheeled around on his heels. “Thanks.”

He went out the door and down off the platform and mounted the tired horse. If Harding had come in, there was nothing he could do about it. He simply had to wait until he could get confirmation from whatever federal officer Billy Vail could reach in San Antonio. Maybe he would hear tomorrow. It was a big country and he couldn’t go dashing here and there looking for a shadow. But he did need to get out of that shadow’s clothes. If he was sick of anything, he was sick of wearing Judge Richard Harding’s ill-fitting clothes. He went to the store and bought new clothes.

He left the tired horse off at the hotel livery and then walked around the hotel and into the lobby. At the desk, he left word that he wanted a bath sent up to his room and also a steak with all that went with it and a bottle of whiskey. After that, Longarm climbed the stairs to the second floor and went down to his room and let himself in and pitched the parcels he had bought at the general mercantile on the bed. His room and Sarah’s shared a connecting door. He unlocked it with a key and opened it slowly, giving a gentle rap as he did. She was up, sitting on the side of her bed in a kind of flannel nightgown. There was a bathtub still in the middle of the room with towels scattered about. She looked wan and drawn but still pretty even with wet hair and no makeup. He came forward, skirting the tub, and leaned down and kissed her lightly.

He said, “You look about tuckered out.”

She said, “I am. Did you have any luck?”

“I don’t know, honey. All I was doing was getting off a telegram to try and get some information. It will be a little while.”

“I thought I was going to go to sleep waiting for you,” she said.

“You should have.”

“I wanted you to hold me.”

He sat down on the bed beside her and put his left arm around her shoulders and held her close. He said, “You were a brave woman today.”

She looked up at him and smiled. “You were the brave one. You were the one that did it all. How did you make that bomb?”

He shrugged, smiling a little. “Mostly by guess and by golly.”

“It sure worked,” she said. “I see now why you wanted me to try and get under the bed. Gosh, did you see what it did to Miguel?”

Longarm said, “That even surprised me. In fact, I heard a couple of those pieces whiz over my head just as I was falling to the floor. If I had been standing where I’d been, me and them would have connected.”

Sarah said timidly, “Honey, I-” She stopped.

He said, “What?”

“I would like to but I don’t think I can.”

“What?”

She blushed slightly. “You know. Make love.”

Longarm said, “Oh, I reckon we’re both a little too tired for that.”

“Yes, but there’s this.” With hands that trembled slightly, she pulled her gown up past her knees and on up past her cream-colored thighs. She spread her legs slightly. The inside of her thighs were rubbed raw.

Longarm said, “My heavens. That’s terrible. We’ve got to get some liniment on that.”

“You see, I don’t think I could grip you with my legs.”

He smoothed her hair. He said, “Honey, don’t you worry about that. I’ll go downstairs in just a minute and get some kind of ointment.”

She said, “If I could just sleep.” Then she suddenly turned her head toward a table at the back of the room. “Oh, by the way, they brought your things from when you were here before.”

Longarm turned to look and there sat his valise, the one he had left in the hotel when he had gone to get a drink some days ago. The one he had used to go to Mexico City and come back. The valise contained clean clothes, his derringer, and another revolver, the mate to the one that Harding had taken away from him.

He slapped his forehead with the palm of his hand. “I’ll be damned. I just spent sixteen dollars on clothes, closer to seventeen actually, that I didn’t have to spend. Damn it. But at least now I know I have a pistol in there that I can make good use of.”

He got up and crossed swiftly to the valise and unbuckled it and opened it wide. There on top, where he had left it, was his .38-caliber derringer. He took it out and quickly shoved it inside his concave belt buckle, slipping it under the steel snap that held it in place. After that, he rummaged down through his shirts and jeans and found the mate to his missing revolver. It felt good as he pulled it out of the valise. He immediately took Chulo’s pistol out and laid it on the table and returned his own to its rightful place in his holster. Then he thought to take it back out, click open the gate, and spin the cylinder to make sure it was fully loaded. He rummaged around in the bottom of the valise and found the box of .44-caliber cartridges which was still half full. He opened the box and took out six and then six more cartridges. He put six in his right front jeans pocket and six in his right front shirt pocket. It felt good to be equipped again. He rummaged around in his clothes, feeling toward the bottom because that’s where the cleaner ones were, and pulled out a blue shirt that he particularly liked and then felt still farther until he found a clean pair of jeans. He laid those on the table and then searched around and got out some clean socks. Just as he was about to draw them out, his knuckles hit something hard, and to his delight, he found a full bottle of the precious Maryland whiskey. Now he remembered that he had been saving it for the happy occasion when he would finally get off the damned train and get loose from that damned Earl Combs. But things had been so rushed and jumbled that he’d forgotten about it and instead had gone to a saloon to buy a bottle of whiskey. There he had met a man who wanted him to go get a horse in Mexico and had ended up back in Laredo with a woman with chafed and chapped thighs. It would make a fine story to tell his grandchildren one day, if they were pretty broad-minded children.

Without pause, he walked over to the table beyond the bed where there was a pitcher and a basin and a couple of glasses. He took one of them, uncorked the whiskey, poured it half full, and then drank the lot of it down in two gulps. He said, looking at Sarah, “Aw, that tastes so good. Do you drink whiskey, Sarah?”

She shook her head quickly. “No, it’s too strong.”

“Did you get dinner?”

“Oh, yes. They brought me some nice roast chicken and some vegetables and a glass of wine. It was wonderful. They’ve taken the dishes away and they’re supposed to come back for the bathtub.”

Longarm said, “I’m going down now to try and get you some salve. When they come for the bathtub, tell them to pull it on into my room.”

She said, “If I can stay awake that long.”

“I’ll be right back,” he said.

In the end he had to make do with some Neet’s Foot Oil out of the livery stable. It was mostly used to grease saddles and to work into tender spots on horses’ knees and their hocks. He figured it would do Sarah some good on her chafed legs.

When he got back up to her room, he found that the bathtub had been pulled into his room and a bucket of steaming water was standing nearby. Also, his supper had been set up on a table and covered with a cloth. He ducked into Sarah’s room for a moment. She was already in bed under the covers more than half asleep. He sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled the covers back and carefully lifted her nightgown up. She seemed to barely notice. Her eyes only fluttered slightly, but never opened fully. He pulled her legs apart gently because he knew she was sore, and, as carefully as he could, he began to rub the oil into her bruised and tormented flesh. She had taken a bad pounding from the four-hour ride. But even as cruelly treated as her skin had been, he couldn’t help but notice the shapeliness of her legs, the purity of her skin tone, and the light brown thatch where her legs joined. He tried not to notice because the woman had had a rough time, but he caught small glimpses through the sparse thatch of hair of the faint pink and red of the vulva and lips of her vagina. He would not allow himself to become aroused. Instead, he coated her liberally with the oil before he pulled her gown down and pulled the covers back up and then tucked them around her neck. He kissed her softly on the lips and walked quietly out of her room, leaving the door open, and into his own.

He didn’t know whether to eat first or to bathe. Either his steak or his bath water would likely get cold. In the end, he took a very quick bath, soaping and rinsing as fast as he could, and then dried off thoroughly and slipped into a clean pair of his own jeans. He kicked Judge Harding’s pants and shirts over into a far corner. After that, he sat down at the table and ate the big steak and the potatoes and green beans and canned tomatoes that they had fixed for him.

When he was done with that and felt about half human again, he poured himself a generous amount of the Maryland whiskey, lit a cigarillo, and settled back to relax for the first time in a long while. He didn’t feel he could do any real thinking about the judge and his plan. First of all, he didn’t have enough information to know what the judge might have been up to or how far along he had come or what he might have accomplished. The telegraph clerk had said he’d heard that Judge Harding had arrived on the afternoon train. Longarm doubted that. A lot of well-meaning people were very anxious to help the law, especially a federal officer, but all too often their help came in the form of misleading information that they wished was true. Through his long years of experience, Longarm had figured out that there were a great number of people out in the world who wanted to be in the know, to feel self-important, to be a part of the action. They seldom were.

He didn’t spend much time ruminating about where Harding might be or what he might be up to. He needed good solid information and he needed some action on Billy Vail’s part. He didn’t think Harding would simply be allowed to depart with the prisoner, Earl Combs, on Harding’s say-so alone. As he told him from the very beginning, they didn’t swap embezzlers, especially ones that got away with $200,000, for United States deputy marshals that they paid $100 a month.

Longarm finished his drink and his cigarillo and realized how tired he was. It had not been a pleasant five or six days, or whatever time it had been. The days had run together so he wasn’t even sure how long it had been, but he had done one thing he hadn’t known he could do. He had made one hell of a bomb.

He took a quick look in on Sarah. She was sleeping peacefully under the dim glow of the lamp he had trimmed low for her. He didn’t want the room completely dark in case she woke up and was frightened.

He turned his own lamp out and climbed into bed, grateful to be in a room that wasn’t so damned white.

They ate breakfast together in Sarah’s room. He was not yet willing for her to be seen in public in case she would be recognized and word would somehow get to Harding, wherever he was. It was around nine o’clock. They had both slept late. Longarm had gone downstairs and sent a smart young man over to the federal judge’s office to inquire about Harding. He had come back to report that the people who worked in the judge’s office had said he was out of town and wasn’t expected back for several days.

Sarah was anxious to go out and buy some clothes of her own but she had understood when Longarm had explained why that wouldn’t be possible until the right time. Nevertheless, she looked very good in the clothes that Martin Silver had borrowed for her. Longarm had a pretty good idea that they were the property of some whore who worked around the hotel, but he wasn’t going to tell Sarah that. She had already commented on how fancy the underwear was that had been provided for her. Longarm had kept a straight face and said yes, that he reckoned that ladies in Laredo were given to that sort of garment.

They were eating eggs and ham and biscuits with a big pot of coffee. Sarah had just finished saying that she could have slept another ten hours as tired as she was.

Longarm said, “That’s what excitement and nerves and just plain old out-and-out fear will do for you. Also, I reckon that the horseback ride didn’t help too much. How are the insides of your legs?”

She said ruefully, “They are still a mess. Did you put something on me last night? They feel oily.”

Longarm laughed at that. He said, “Yes. I didn’t think you woke up. Yes, I got some … well, actually, it’s saddle oil. It was the only thing I could find. I figured it would keep the skin from drying out and cracking and maybe blistering. It was the only thing I could think of.”

She reached over and covered his hand. “That was very sweet of you,” she said.

He eyed her. The clothes, although they didn’t quite fit, certainly set off her figure, especially her bosom. He could envision those big white cantaloupe-sized breasts with their big strawberry tips nestling inside that silk and satin. It made his mouth water in a way that it seldom did at breakfast.

She wanted to know what he was going to do and he had to simply shrug, shake his head, and say he didn’t know. He said, “I’m waiting on information before I can act. What has me worried is that he got such a hell of a start on us, but I do believe that his business in San Antonio is going to take some time. I gave him some help last night, sort of greased the rails. Maybe it will work but maybe it won’t. The sticky thing is, can it be done without him being tipped off? If the wrong person gets hold of the telegram that I sent to my boss, it will blow the whole thing sky high.”

She asked, puzzled, “I don’t understand why you don’t just arrest Richard for what he’s done to you and for what he did to me. Isn’t that enough?”

He nodded. “Yes, that would get him some years in the Cross Bar Hotel, but that ain’t the way my job works, Sarah. A U.S. deputy marshal is supposed to throw a big net and make a big catch. I could reel the judge in without much trouble, but the idea is that I’m supposed to get the embezzler, whom we already got, but I’m supposed to catch him in the same net and get him to tell me where the two hundred thousand dollars is and then bring the whole bunch in along with the money.”

“That sounds like a tall order,” she said.

“It is, but I’ve got a boss who’s about as tall as a shot glass and damned near as smart. Certainly he is hardheaded and he thinks I ought to be able to do these things in my sleep, so if I come back without cleaning the plate, he ain’t going to be pleased and he’ll send me off to Montana or somewhere to find somebody who’s been stealing sheep in the middle of a blizzard. This is a tricky play, make no mistake, but it’s got to be tried.

She shrugged. “I’m quite sure I’ll never understand any of it.

Longarm was about to speak when he heard a knocking on his door. He got up, went through the connecting door, and answered the summons. It was a boy from the telegraph office. He handed Longarm a telegram and Longarm handed him a quarter. Longarm walked back to the table, tearing the envelope open. Inside was a message that was nowhere near as long as the one he had sent Billy but was a long one for Billy. It said:

YOUR URGENT REQUEST URGENTLY ACTED ON STOP HAVE YOU GONE INSANE STOP WAS VERY CAREFUL TO SEND YOUR INFORMATION TO A PARTY I TRUST STOP WHAT IN HELL ARE YOU UP TO STOP HAVE NOT RECEIVED WORD BACK FROM SAN ANTONIO YET STOP WILL ADVISE SOON AS STOP HAVE WIRED DEPUTY MARSHAL IN SAN ANTONIO TO PICK UP MOVEMENTS OF JUDGE HARDING STOP HE WILL ADVISE YOU BY WIRE STOP WHO ARE YOU CALLING AN OLD SON OF A BITCH STOP AM GOING TO BE VERY INTERESTED TO LEARN HOW YOU MANAGED TO GET YOURSELF TAKEN HOSTAGE STOP YOU BETTER NOT SHIP ANY HORSES BACK HERE AT GOVERNMENT EXPENSE STOP DON’T SEND ME NO MORE TELEGRAMS THAT TAKE HALF THE NIGHT TO READ STOP YOU WOKE ME UP STOP AM COMPLYING WITH YOUR REQUEST FOR $500 STOP YOU BETTER BE ABLE TO ACCOUNT FOR EVERY PENNY OF IT STOP YOU BETTER BE DEAD RIGHT ABOUT THIS FEDERAL JUDGE OR YOU ARE GOING TO BE DEAD STOP

It was signed Billy Vail, Chief Marshal, Denver, Colorado. Inside the envelope was a voucher from the Western Union Telegraph Company that was good at any bank in the country. The amount was $500.

Longarm passed the telegraph over to Sarah for her to read. He watched her as a frown slowly built upon her face as she read on down through the words. When she was finished, she gave him a puzzled look and said, “Your boss is not a very nice man. Doesn’t he realize the danger that you’ve been put through? Doesn’t he have any sympathy for your plight?”

Longarm laughed. He couldn’t help himself. “Darling, one of Billy Vail’s greatest pleasures in life is seeing just how much danger he can get me into. He does all of his men that way. I reckon people mistake his orneriness for orneriness and his crankiness for crankiness, but nobody mistakes his plain old meanness for just plain old meanness.”

She looked at him and smiled slightly. “You’re very fond of him, aren’t you?”

“It’s kind of hard not to be.”

They passed the morning in Sarah’s room. There really wasn’t anything Longarm could do until he heard from San Antonio. It was difficult sitting in a hotel room with a beautiful woman who was more than willing to play and to do nothing about it. Longarm wanted to make love to Sarah, but the saddle scalding on her tender skin in the exact worst place made it impossible. He had sent out to an apothecary for some proper salve and had taken great pleasure in applying it. She had protested, saying she could do it herself, but he had insisted, for obvious reasons.

The hours passed and then their lunch was brought up. They had roast beef, mashed potatoes with gravy, and green beans, and apple cobbler for dessert. They were eating well, but nothing else was getting done. After lunch, Longarm stood at the window looking down on the big plaza that lay between the town and the river. He could see people busily going about their business. It made him wish all the more that he had something to do. He finally began quizzing Sarah about where Richard would take Earl Combs if he was successful at getting him into his clutches. Sarah had no idea.

She said, “He has a big house here in Laredo. It’s a beautiful place. I know, I lived there for a little while. I assume his present wife is there. Why don’t you believe he will take him to the hacienda in Mexico?”

Longarm shrugged. “I don’t know. I just don’t think he’ll trust himself with such a valuable commodity so deep into Mexico. I think he will try to get the information out of the man somewhere on this side of the border. He’s got authority here. Do you know of any other hideouts that he has?”

She thought for a long time. She said, “Well, he sometimes kept rooms in the Palace Hotel. I don’t know what that was for, maybe just for other women.” She stopped and snapped her fingers. She said, “Oh, wait. There is one other place. He’s got what he calls a hunting lodge, but I don’t know where it is. It’s somewhere outside of town, ten or fifteen miles away.”

“A hunting lodge? Somehow your ex-husband doesn’t strike me as someone who would be much of a hunter.”

“He’s not really. I think it was just someplace he could go with his cronies and drink and play cards or where he could take women.”

“You have no idea where it is?”

She shook her head. “None.”

A little after one o’clock, Longarm got the roan out of the stable, and following the directions that Sarah had given him, he rode to the eastern outskirts of town to have a look at Richard Harding’s town house. It was in the nicer part of town, up on top of a small rise that looked down on the river to the south and the town to the west. There were several big homes out there. Longarm rode onto the place on the pretext of asking directions to look the big house over. He reckoned it contained some ten to twelve rooms. There were several hired hands about the place keeping the yard and the shrubbery up and working in the garden, but he didn’t see anything that would resemble a pistolero. As he was about to leave, he saw a young woman on the front porch. She appeared to be in her mid-twenties. Longarm guessed she was the wife that Richard Harding had taken when he had condemned Sarah to a living death. She was pretty enough, Longarm thought, but he wondered what kind of a marriage she had ended up in. While he was out, Longarm took the opportunity to stop at a bank and trade the voucher for $500. After that, he rode back to the hotel, put the horse up in the livery stable, and then went to wait with Sarah. They spent the time talking about Richard Harding, with Longarm struggling to gain every ounce of information about the man from a woman who really didn’t know him. It was hard going.

Then, at about four o’clock, there came a knock on the door to his room. Longarm answered it. It was another telegram for him. He opened the wire quickly and looked to see who it was from. It was from a Chet Smith, a United States deputy marshal in San Antonio, Texas.

Chapter 10

Without moving from his spot in the doorway, Longarm quickly read the telegram from the U.S. deputy marshal in San Antonio.

FEDERAL JUDGE HARDING IN COMPANY WITH THREE OTHER MEN LEFT SAN ANTONIO THIS DATE AT 4 P.m. ON THE SOUTHBOUND TRAIN STOP TICKET AGENT I QUESTIONED SAID ALL TICKETS FOR THE PARTY WERE FOR LAREDO STOP ONE OF THE MEN WAS EARL COMBS, WHO WAS MANACLED STOP OTHER TWO MEN WERE DESCRIBED BY JUDGE HARDING TO FEDERAL TREASURY OFFICIALS HERE AS FEDERAL COURT BAILIFFS STOP RELEASE OF PRISONER COMBS WAS DONE PER INSTRUCTIONS FROM CHIEF MARSHAL BILLY VAIL STOP HARDING MAKING CLAIM HE CAN FREE CAPTURED DEPUTY MARSHAL AND RECOVER EMBEZZLED MONEY STOP WILL STAND BY FOR ANY FURTHER ORDERS STOP

Longarm read the telegram again and then once more. Then he walked thoughtfully back into Sarah’s room and sat down at the table where he had a bottle of whiskey and a glass. He poured himself out a drink and then sat there thinking.

Sarah came up behind him. She said, pointing to the telegram, “Is that some sort of news?”

Longarm nodded slowly. He said, “Yes.”

“Is it good news?”

He looked up at her and smiled thinly. “It’s going to make things a little tricky. Your ex-husband is due in here tonight. I think the train arrives around eight, that is, if this is where he is coming. There’s one stop between here and San Antonio and that’s at Hondo. He could get off there and go to Brownsville or Del Rio. The best thing I can do is wait and see what happens. But I don’t know how I’m going to follow a man who knows me.”

She said, “He’ll go home. Why not just go to his house and wait?”

Longarm said, “I don’t think this is the kind of business that he wants his new bride to know that he’s involved in and I don’t think he’ll be parading the three men with him around town.”

“Who are these three men?”

Longarm shook his head. “One is an embezzler who has two hundred thousand dollars that old Richard would like to get his hands on. I would reckon the other two are a couple of pistoleros. Unfortunately, the man who sent this”-he waved the wire in the air-“didn’t say if they were Mexicans or what. I don’t know, but he may have a couple of hard boys from this side. I don’t know quite what to do. I guess the only thing I can do is to be standing somewhere near that depot when the train gets in tonight and keep an eye out to see what happens.”

She said, “What if they start back across the border to the hacienda?”

Longarm gave a shudder. He said, “Well, I reckon that I’ll just be obliged to go with them.” He got up. It was 4:45 by his watch. “The first thing I have to do is go get me a good horse. We nearly rode those two old nags to death. They need a rest.”

Longarm knew a horse trader who was about halfway honest, a commodity not that common in Laredo. He left the hotel and walked the four or five blocks to where the man had a small horse lot and stable. For $200, he bought a six-year-old bay gelding that wasn’t much to look at but that Longarm knew had a lot of staying power in him and also some quick speed. He borrowed a saddle from the trader, mounted the horse, and put him through his paces, making sure he was nimble enough to get around in heavy brush and also strong enough to force his way if he had to against slow going in the heavy country. The horse had a big-barreled chest and the big hams that showed his quarter-horse blood. He was a horse that would be able to keep up whether Harding was heading for his hacienda twenty miles deep into Mexico or going to his hunting lodge or anywhere else. If Harding went by horse, Longarm felt he had the horse that could stay with him.

When he was satisfied with the animal, he returned the saddle and gave the trader the $200. They made an agreement that if Longarm returned the horse within a week in the same condition he had left in or better, the trader would buy him back for $175. It would be a good deal for the trader. Longarm figured the horse would fetch four or five hundred up country somewhere, maybe even in Denver, but, of course, that would mean another squabble with Billy Vail about him shipping an animal at government expense. Never mind that he’d had to pay for the telegram out of his own pocket and never mind that he’d lost a revolver that would cost $75 to replace.

The trader had thrown in a halter and lead rope, so Longarm walked back to the hotel’s livery stable leading the animal. He took the bridle off the roan he had been riding and adjusted it to fit the big bay gelding. Then he took off the saddle blanket and the saddle and adjusted them both to fit the new horse. He left the bay loosely girted in a stall by himself and gave the boy a dollar to make sure that he got well fed and watered and to make sure that he was kept ready to go.

Now there didn’t seem to be anything left to do but to wait until eight o’clock that night for the train to come in. After that, all he could do was to follow wherever Judge Harding led. The only fear in his heart was that Harding might have bought a ticket for Laredo but never arrive there, going instead to some unknown location. That would put an end to the whole matter and Longarm could expect to spend the rest of his career searching for the judge and the embezzler and whoever else was with Harding. He didn’t even want to think about what Billy Vail would say to him if he let the two culprits slip through his fingers.

Sarah became increasingly nervous as dusk fell and the time stretched toward eight o’clock. The idea of her husband being back in the same town as her frightened her so that she trembled at times. Longarm did his best to reassure her but her only response was to beg him to stay with her and not go out. He answered her that, of course, he had to go because neither she nor anyone else would be safe so long as a crooked federal judge was in office and free. He said, “Sarah, that man has got to be punished. Not only for what he did to you and to me. Do you have any idea how many people, innocent people perhaps, are now serving time or were hung because he’s just a mean son of a bitch? Folks like that have got to be stopped. I’ve got to stop him, Sarah. You’re going to have to be brave. You’re in no danger. He has no idea you’re in this hotel, and Martin Silver will make sure that your room is watched. No one can get through that door. No one. I’ll leave you a pistol. You can shoot one. You may not think you can, but you can. I’ll cock it for you so all you’ll have to do is aim it and pull the trigger.”

Slowly Sarah began to calm down. Longarm gave her a weak drink of whiskey and water. After she got that down, she seemed better. They had dinner sent up again and ate well on chicken and rice and some mixed vegetables.

Longarm questioned her again about where Harding’s hunting lodge could be. More and more he was convinced that was where the man would head with his prisoner. An out-of-the-way place where he could, at his leisure, convince Earl Combs to tell him where he had hidden the money, and also an out-of-the-way place where Earl Combs could be disposed of once he had given Harding the information he sought. Two hundred thousand dollars was a hell of a lot of money. Longarm thought there was very little Harding wouldn’t do to get his hands on that sum.

But Sarah wasn’t really sure where the hunting lodge was, rack her brain as she would. She said, “You must remember, Custis, that I wasn’t here that long. It wasn’t long before I was in exile, before he caught me, before I nearly went crazy with longing and grief and the desire to flee. Now, of course, I can only look back and wonder how I could have been so stupid as to not have run away from the man. But I really don’t know exactly where the hunting lodge is located.”

To the best of her recollection, it had been west of town some ten or fifteen miles and down by the river. She said, “I somehow have the feeling that it was on an island somewhere near a wide part of the river. Something that Richard said makes me think that, but I can’t be sure. He was drunk one night and bragging about what they had done with the women they had there. Apparently they had taken out of the jail a lot of the women that Richard had sentenced and brought them down to the hunting lodge. There was something about making them swim out to the lodge, but I don’t know. It’s been so long and I really had no reason to pay attention.”

Finally it was time to leave. Longarm made it swift and abrupt. There was nothing else to talk about. He cocked Chulo’s pistol, showed her how to pull the trigger, and said, “Keep this door locked and don’t let anybody in. Don’t worry about how long I’ll be gone because I don’t know. Could be that he’s not going to come and I’ll be right back. But if I’m not, don’t think the worst. I’m a hard man to kill.”

She smiled bravely at Longarm and gave him a kiss. She saw him through the door and then locked it behind him.

He left the hotel, got his horse, and rode down to the depot. He tied the horse on the freight end of the depot platform, well back in the shadows. It was a moonlit night, too moonlit for Longarm’s purposes. The moonlight had helped them the night before in their escape, but now it was a hindrance to his plans. He stepped up on the passenger platform and looked down the tracks. It was ten minutes before eight and there was still no sign of the train. He walked about looking for a place where he could hide and watch the passengers as they disembarked from the train. But the passenger platform was too well lit. He could be easily spotted. Then, a sudden thought occurred to him. He looked inside the glass and saw that the same telegrapher was on duty that had been there when he sent the telegram to Billy Vail. He went inside the passenger part of the depot and then ducked quickly into the office where the telegrapher sat.

The man looked up as Longarm entered and said, “Well, you may be the famous Longarm, but you ain’t supposed to be in here.”

Longarm figured he could trust the man—hell, he had to trust him. He said, “Look, I have every reason to believe that Judge Richard Harding is coming in on the eight o’clock train. I don’t want him to see me. I’m going to get down here on the floor next to your desk where I can’t be seen. Can you see where they unload the passengers?”

The telegrapher leaned over and spit tobacco juice into a spittoon. He said, “Yeah, I can see ‘em. I can tell you right quick if he gets off.”

“Good,” Longarm said. “You’re going to be my eyes.”

The telegrapher leaned back and looked at Longarm. He said, “What’s the job pay?”

Longarm said, “It’s good for one free pass to get out of jail, in case I ever put you in.”

The telegrapher nodded. “Sounds damned good.” He nodded his head toward the corner. “If you’ll sit down there on the floor where that wastebasket is, ain’t nobody gonna be able to see you, even if they come in from out there on the platform. I can watch and I’ll tell you what they do.”

Longarm said, “I’m obliged.” He moved the wastebasket and sat down in the corner. The glass front of the telegrapher’s booth did not run all the way across. Where he was sitting, the wall was solid on the platform side and solid halfway across on the passenger waiting-room side.

Longarm took off his hat and settled down. He said, “See any sign of the train?”

The telegrapher looked down the track. He said, “I can barely make out a light flashing. That’ll be it, and right on time, too.”

It was not a long wait. After a few minutes, Longarm felt the floor begin to tremble beneath him. A moment or two later it seemed, the train came smoking an clanging and huffing and puffing and thundering and squealing into the station. He heard it sigh to a stop as it expelled steam from its boiler.

The telegrapher said, “The passengers are starting to get out of two cars, one right beside you and one down the track. A lady got off … that ain’t him. Another lady got off … that ain’t him. Well, there’s a man got off one car down the track. He’s done got off and looking back up. Another man’s got off. Here comes a man down … got chains on his wrists or handcuffs or whatever you call them.”

Longarm tried to keep the excitement out of his voice. “That would be them.”

“Yep. And there’s good old Judge Richard Harding, the last one out. He’s carrying a valise. The others, well, two of them have saddlebags and the one with the manacles, he ain’t carrying nothing.”

Longarm asked, “Well, what are they doing now?”

The telegrapher watched for a moment. “They’re a-talkin’.” He paused for a moment. “Now they’re looking around. One of them that ain’t the judge and ain’t the one in the handcuffs is walking down this way and having a look. He’s done gone by. I can’t see him no more. The other one that ain’t the judge and ain’t the one in handcuffs is looking off the other end of the passenger platform. Now he’s coming back. Now here comes the other one back. Now they’re all talking and they’re all walking toward the edge of the platform toward the steps on the town side.”

“Have they stepped down yet?” asked Longarm.

“No. Well, one of them has. He’s going down the steps and now he’s starting down the road,” said the telegrapher. “The other three are just standing there. Now he’s out of my sight and they’re watching him.”

“What about Harding? Was it Harding?”

“Nope. It was one of them that … well, let’s just call him one of them that has a gun on. The other one with the gun and the one with the handcuffs is there and Judge Harding is there and they are just standing there, waiting.”

“Where do you suppose that other one is going?”

The old man said, “Well, I don’t know about you, Marshal, but if I had just come in on the train and no one had met me, I’d be going to the livery stables to get a buggy or a buckboard or some horses.”

Longarm chuckled slightly. “We could use a man like you. I like the way you think.”

The telegrapher said dryly, “You didn’t like it so well the other night when you were showing me that big pistol for a badge.”

“Someday I will tell you what kind of mood and shape I was in. Maybe then you’ll understand.”

“Oh, it didn’t bother me none. I got to tell everybody that I’d had a gun drawn on me by the famous Longarm and made him put it away.”

Longarm chuckled again. “That you did. Keep watching.”

It was a long wait in terms of anticipation. In minutes, it was only about ten. The telegrapher said, “Yep. That was it. The one that walked off is pulling up with a buckboard. He’s driving a two-horse team. Now the other three are going down the steps. The judge is getting in the front seat with the driver and the other two are getting in the back. The other gunman is shoving the one that’s manacled up into the back. By the way, I didn’t tell you that the one that has the manacles on has something tied across his mouth. Looks like a handkerchief. It appears they gagged the man.”

Longarm said grimly, “I don’t blame them.”

“They’re treating him pretty rough, but they’re allowing him to sit up now. He made a motion right then to try and get over the side of the buckboard, but that wasn’t very smart because that gunman drug him back right smart.”

“What are they doing now?”

“The driver is starting the horses. Now he’s wheeling them around. They are going to head south. In about thirty seconds they’re going to be out of my view.”

Longarm got to his feet. “I am much obliged to you, sir. I’ll see you when I get back. Maybe we’ll have a drink and talk about it.”

The telegrapher said, “If you’re going to follow them folks, you had better get high behind because they are a-movin’. They’ve already gone out of my sight.”

Longarm rushed out of the office and hurried around the building on the track side back toward the freight platform. When he got to the end, he peered around just in time to see the wagon heading south on the town’s main street. A building blocked his view so he had to cross the platform to the street side to where he could see. He saw the wagon continue on south and his heart sank. They were headed for the bridge just as sure as shooting. They were going to the hacienda. Damn, he thought. Harding would get there, see the dead bodies, know that Longarm had escaped, and he would be hell to catch after that. It would flush him, sure enough.

Longarm hurried down the steps, caught up his horse, and walked out into the street. He could just barely make out the buggy; it was some five or six blocks ahead of him. He mounted as quick as he could and struck a fast walk, hoping to keep up with the buggy but not get too close. It was continuing on south toward the bridge. He followed for two, three, and then four blocks, watching the buggy. It had already passed through the central part of town and was only a quarter mile from the bridge. He was certain that it would be going across.

But then, to his amazement, the buggy suddenly turned to the right, toward the west. He wasn’t sure what that meant. He could only hope that Harding and his party were headed for some country road that ran down along the river in the direction where Sarah had said the hunting lodge might be found.

Even though it was well past eight o’clock, the streets were still crowded and many stores were open. Fortunately, most of the people were up on the sidewalk and he was able to kick his horse into a lope, only now and then having to dodge a wagon or someone who had suddenly decided to dart across his path. He got to the corner where the buggy had turned and slowed his horse to a walk as he cautiously went around. It was dark for the space of a couple of blocks from the overhang of buildings. Then, he got a glimpse of the buckboard moving along at a good clip, having cleared the outskirts of town. He urged his pony forward to keep within good sight of them.

Once away from the town, the country was rolling plains covered with mesquite and cedar thickets and now and again a post oak tree. The bare spaces were taken up by greasewood bushes and cactus brambles. Longarm could clearly see the white caliche road sneaking its way through the darker heavy overgrowth. The buckboard was about a half mile ahead. He came into the moonlight cautiously, aiming to make sure they didn’t see him following behind them. For a short while, he tried to follow off the road, picking his way through the dense growth of stunted trees and plentiful bushes and briars. The going was too slow, and besides, it was scratching his horse across the legs and the chest plate. If he kept it up, the animal would get shy and go to bucking or pitching. He swung back into the road but took his time, going slow, catching occasional glimpses of the buggy ahead as the road wound to the left and now back to the right. If Sarah was right that it was a ten-or fifteen-mile trip then he had plenty of time to follow them. The only thing he worried about was the road forking.

He followed slowly for about an hour, catching glimpses of the buggy only now and then as it continued its westward progress. He calculated they had come at least seven or eight miles from town. The buggy was still moving at a smart trot. Longarm let his horse out a little into a fast walk. He didn’t want them to get too far ahead nor did he want them to arrive at the hunting lodge too far in advance of him. Could be they’d get their business done quickly and he’d meet them coming back. He was very anxious to hear what went on in the hunting cabin.

Another hour passed and he thought they should be close, very close. The moon was higher now and casting a good glow. It would be very difficult to get near them without being seen, so he forced himself to maintain a pace a little slower than theirs. A little more than two hours after he had begun to follow them across the countryside, he got one last glimpse and then they seemed to disappear. He rode on ahead, picking up the pace. He had grown used to the movement ahead, the sudden flashes of the buggy as it stood in contrast to the brush it was going through along the road. Now, there was nothing ahead. No movement. In a kind of panic, Longarm urged his horse into a slow lope, conscious of the sound the horse’s hooves were making. He could not let them get too big of a lead on him. Just as he was beginning to worry that he might have lost them, he saw a trail lead off to his left toward the river. In the moonlight, he could see the wagon tracks. They looked very fresh in the loose dirt. He pulled his horse up and leaned out of the saddle to study them and then looked toward the river. By squinting his eyes, he could make a small structure separate itself from the treeline. The trees appeared higher down near the river, which, of course, would be the nature of things. He looked back to his right where the road continued. There were no signs of fresh wagon tracks. He had to believe, based on time and distance, that Harding and his cohorts had reached the turnoff to his hunting lodge.

Longarm turned his animal left, holding him to a slow walk. He went perhaps half a mile. Now the outline of the small building was becoming distinct in the night. He guessed it to be no more than a quarter of a mile away, but night distances could sometimes be misleading. He rode on for a couple of hundred yards more and then stopped his horse. He dismounted and led the animal back into the bushes, tying him to a post oak tree that reared up amongst a grove of mesquite. The horse wouldn’t have anything to eat or drink, but Longarm didn’t expect to be long.

He began to work his way through the bushes toward the cabin. After about ten minutes, he reached the river’s edge and he saw why Sarah thought the cabin was on an island. It was actually on a spit of land that ran out into the river like a peninsula. Once toward the center of the river, the patch of land widened out until it was about an acre in size. Set in the middle of that was a one-story lumber and adobe cabin. Its roof was almost flat as were so many in that part of the country. It appeared to be shingled with tar paper. A stovepipe stuck up from the back corner, but there was no chimney for a fireplace. Laredo was not a town where people used fireplaces for warmth, since it seldom got below seventy at any time of the year.

He could see the peninsula that ran out to the big parcel was lower, and he could imagine when the river was up, it would be under water, making the cabin virtually an island. As if to confirm this, a rowboat was tied up at the bank and he could quite easily see the tracks of the buckboard where the wheels had sunk into the soft ground as they had driven the hundred yards to the cabin.

He spent a few moments studying the situation. The door was shut and there were two windows at the front but they were small and high up. It would be difficult for anyone to see him out of those windows. Nevertheless, he didn’t want to take the chance of being seen by heading directly for the house. He took his boots off, and holding them in one hand and carrying his revolver in the other, he stepped down into the river water, first up to his knees and then up to his hips. Bending low, he worked his way slowly to the higher ground that the cabin was sitting on. He came up out of the water on the side of the cabin. There was one window that was set like a normal window with a sash, but there was a curtain over it that made it difficult to see inside. He snuck past that and got around to the back of the cabin. There was nothing there except a blank wall.

Behind the cabin was a corral where the two buggy horses had been turned in. There was a small toolshed or feedshed, he didn’t know which. The buckboard was sitting close to the back of the cabin. He thought if he could move the buckboard over some five or ten feet, he could use it to get up on the roof, which appeared to be only about ten feet high.

Straining and being as quiet as he could, he picked up the rear of the buckboard and shifted it over until it was almost against the corner of the cabin.

Longarm got up in the buckboard and stood up on one of its sides, but he couldn’t quite reach the edge of the roof. He had put his boots back on. He looked around. He walked over and carefully opened the door of the little shed. Inside, he found a busted ladder-back chair. He took it, positioned it in the buggy against the wall of the cabin, and then carefully climbed up its flimsy structure. He was able to get his arms and his shoulders onto the roof, and working slowly, inch by inch, he managed to drag himself up onto the building’s top. Once there, he lay flat, his ear pressed to the tarpaper shingles. He could hear a low murmur of voices and now and then a yelp, but he couldn’t make out anything distinctly. A thought occurred to him and he went over to the stovepipe that stuck out of the roof. He touched it first and then put his ear to it and found he could distinctly hear what was being said inside.

The first words he heard clearly were in the carefully modulated voice of Judge Richard Harding. He said in a pleasant voice, “Now, Earl. We’ve been rather easy on you so far. Now, if you don’t tell us where the money is, I’m going to have to let these two gentlemen have their way.”

Longarm heard the voice of Earl Combs say, “I don’t know where the money is, don’t you understand? I had a partner. He took the money.”

Harding said, “You’re lying, Earl”-there was a sound of a sigh-“and I’m getting very tired of it. Jack, you and Morris go ahead.”

Longarm heard the faint sounds of a brief struggle. He heard one of the men swearing. A voice said, “Damn it, Morris. Hold his damn hand still. I can’t bend that finger back the way I want to with him thrashing about.”

Another voice said, “Why in the hell don’t we just hit him on top of the head and slow him down some.”

Richard Harding’s dry voice said, “Yes, Morris. That would be intelligent. Knock him out so he can’t feel the pain. I’m sure that he’d tell us then.”

There was silence for a moment and then a sudden scream rose and rose until it went into a shriek. Longarm clenched his teeth. He hated what was going on in the cabin, but he knew that they would get the information about where the money was faster than he could. He would wait as long as he could stand it.

There was a sound of someone sobbing and saying, “Oh, my God! Oh, my God!”

Harding’s voice said, “Do you see what I mean, Earl? You’re just hurting yourself for no good reason. You are going to tell us where the money is. Go ahead, Jack.”

There came a dim mumble of words, a loud oath, a loud exclamation, and then another scream.

A voice said, “I swear! I don’t know where the money is. I swear it.” Longarm could hear a sob in the voice. He could actually hear the man sound as if he was crying.

Richard Harding said, “Let’s make it a little tougher. Let’s start breaking them in two places.”

Now the screams came swiftly and violently. They went on for something like two or three minutes. The sounds almost made Longarm sick to his stomach. One thing they did, which was something he didn’t think possible, was to make him despise Richard Harding even more.

Finally a voice said, “Judge, this son of a bitch is a harder nut to crack than I thought. Let’s say we fire that kitchen stove up and see how he likes petting red-hot cast iron.”

Harding said, “That sounds like a good idea, Jack. Go ahead.”

Overhead, Longarm heard the news with some alarm. He didn’t know if he’d be able to hear or not. He was not listening at the open end of the stack but at the side. He didn’t know what soot and smoke coming up the pipe would do.

A voice said, “Judge, I think this son of a bitch has passed out. He’s just laying there.”

Longarm heard a thud as if someone had been kicked. “Naw, he was just playing possum. A little nudge in the ribs got his attention.”

Harding said, “Get his shoes off and his socks.”

The voice that Longarm had learned to recognize as Jack’s said, “There, I’ve got that kitchen stove fired up plenty good. It shouldn’t be but a few minutes.”

Harding said, “Jack, while we’re waiting, it might not be a bad idea to try some splinters under his toenails. I’m a great believer in fire as a pain giver. Look around the cabin here and see if you can find some splinters. Just running one underneath his big toenails might get us some response.”

On the roof, Longarm heard laughter. He doubted any of it was coming from Earl Combs. It was strange to hear this and to feel sorry for the man whom he had been so sick of only a week back. There were no sounds from the cabin for a few minutes and then Longarm heard Jack say, “Here, Judge. What about this? I’ve made some shavings off this pine board. Don’t you reckon they’d slip up under there and do a pretty good job?”

Harding said, “Yeah, that’s good thinking, Jack. Give it a try-“

Longarm heard some scuffling and struggling and then a scream, though it was more a scream of fear than anguish or pain. Then there was a silence that lasted about thirty seconds. It ended with a cry of such desperation that Longarm didn’t know how much longer he could stand it. By now, smoke was pouring out of the chimney along with blinking sparks and pieces of wood ash. He supposed the top of the cast iron stove was already beginning to heat up. He dreaded to think of what they were going to do.

The screaming finally subsided into a whimper and then the whimper into quiet sobs and moans.

Harding said, “Well, Earl. It’s up to you. It’s not going to get better. I know You hid that money somewhere.”

Between sobs, Combs said, “Richard, I ain’t got it. I don’t know where it is, you’ve got to believe me.”

The familiar way that Combs addressed Judge Richard Harding made Longarm wonder if perhaps the judge himself had not been involved somehow in the transaction. Perhaps it had been his idea. Perhaps he had lent his authority in some way to the embezzlement. It didn’t matter. Longarm’s job was to bring them all in and recover the money. That was one of the things he liked about being a deputy marshal, his duty was clear-cut. It wasn’t always easy, but at least it was clear-cut.

There were more screams and more sobbing and moaning.

Longarm was listening carefully. He surprised himself by being able to judge that Earl Combs, even though he was being hurt, was not being tortured to the extent that would cause him to reveal where he had hidden the $200,000. They had not yet reached that point of pain that was worth $200,000 to make it stop. He thought, however, the stove just might be the answer.

Richard Harding said, “Well, this is not working. Jack, go test that stove. Spit on it and see how hot it’s getting, then get his pants off.”

Someone cackled, “Judge, you don’t mean you’re going to set him on that stove, do you?”

Richard Harding said, “Well, it’s a little experiment. Benjamin Franklin said that time was relative. Five minutes with a beautiful woman was different from five minutes sitting on top of a hot stove. I think I’ll test that theory out.”

Longarm could hear Earl Combs instantly begin to protest, sobbing and begging and whining and moaning. The judge said, “Earl, you can stop it anytime you want to. Just tell us where the gold is or lead us to it.”

“You’d just kill me.”

Harding laughed. He said, “Why would I want to do that? All I want is the money. You’re nothing to me. I have no reason to kill you or keep you alive.”

Longarm smiled thinly to himself. The judge was very good at making it sound plausible that he wasn’t going to kill you. He knew. The judge had said the same thing to him.

Longarm glanced at the smoke that was coming out of the stovepipe. He could see little flames in it. He reckoned that Jack had filled the firebox full and that it was going like sixty, He didn’t doubt that it would begin to glow before very long, and it made him shudder inside to think that they were going to put a man’s bare skin onto such a surface.

Harding said, “We’re just about there, Earl, and there you are with your bare ass hanging out, about to have it applied to the stove. I’ll tell you what. We’ll put your hand on it first, and then if you feel like telling us, we won’t roast the ass off you. How’s that?”

Combs began to scream and yell and curse and moan and cry. Longarm could hear the two men swearing at him. He could hear scuffling. They were apparently trying to take him over to the stove. Jack said, “Damn it, you son of a bitch. Quit fighting it. Quit fighting or I’ll break your nose with the barrel of my revolver. Come on, get his arm up behind his back, Morris. Hurry up.”

Harding said, “One of you hold him and the other take hold of his left hand by the wrist with both hands. He’s going to struggle.”

Longarm could hear a sudden sizzle. At first he thought it was the sound of Earl Combs’s hand frying but then he heard Jack say, “There, Judge, I poured some whiskey on it. Listen to it sizzle.” Almost instantly, Longarm got a strong whiff of vaporized liquor. He wondered what it would do to Combs’s hand.

Harding said, “Touch one finger to it first, boys.”

“Judge, it ain’t gonna be easy,” Jack said. “He’s hard to hold. I can’t guarantee just one finger.”

“Get his hand on it then.”

There was a pause and then there was a scream that seemed to almost pierce right through the ceiling and rise high into the sky. In that second, Longarm knew that Earl Combs had reached his point of pain. He began screaming, “I’ll tell ya! I’ll tell ya! Don’t! Stop, please! Oh, my God, I can’t stand it! I can’t stand it! Help me!”

Richard Harding said, “Where’s the money, Earl?”

“The pain! I can’t stand it!”

Harding said coldly, “You get a drink of whiskey and you get to ram your hand into a bucket of water the minute you say where the money is. It’s up to you.”

“It’s in the Laredo National Bank.” Combs was screaming and crying. He said, between sobs, “It’s in a safety deposit box.”

“What’s the number of the safety-deposit box?”

“Five-zero-nine.”

“All right, boys. Give him a rest. Stick his hands in that bucket of water and give him a shot of whiskey.”

Longarm shook his head slowly. The money had been within reach the whole time. Safety-deposit box number 509. That was all he needed to know. Now he could take them in.

He looked around for some way to get them out in the open. The obvious course was to stop up the smoke stack. He took off his hat, looked at it, and then looked at the smoke stack, which was throwing forth dark smoke filled with sparks. It was a forty-dollar hat. He sighed and then thought of something else. Hell, his shirt was only a five-dollar shirt. Better a five-dollar shirt than a forty-dollar hat. As he was taking the shirt off, he could hear Combs still moaning and then he heard Richard Harding say, “Now where is the key to that safety-deposit box, Earl?”

There was a moan and then Combs said, “I don’t know. I don’t know. I can’t think, I’m hurting so bad.”

Harding said, “I’m going to ask you one more time, Earl, before your hand goes back on the stove. Where is the key?”

“Let me think. Let me think, please.”

Longarm had his shirt stripped off. He wadded it into a ball and then stuffed it down into the stovepipe. Within seconds, the cabin was going to fill up with smoke. He didn’t particularly care where the key was—he didn’t need the key. He could go in with a court order and get box 509 open. He began to creep toward the front of the cabin. If matters went right, he was soon going to have company.

The front door, he had made certain, was the only exit out of the cabin. Smoke would come boiling out of the stove and they were going to have to come outside. He was going to be sitting right above them when they did. As he crept along the length of the roof, he could hear a commotion beginning inside. He heard someone yell, “Where the hell is all that smoke coming from?” Then he heard muffled curses and swear words.

Somebody yelled, “It’s that damned stove! What’s the matter with that stove? Somebody open a window!”

He got to the edge and could look down on the ground right in front of the cabin. He put his ear down and heard somebody say, “We’re going to smother in here. Christ, somebody open that damn door!”

It was only a few seconds more and the door was suddenly flung open wide and three men came stumbling, one by one, out into the night, coughing and gasping for air. The first two were obviously the men that Judge Harding had referred to as federal court bailiffs. To Longarm’s eye, they were common gunmen. Harding was the last one out. They were all three bent over coughing. Longarm could not see a gun on Harding. He was wearing a waistcoat and he might have had a shoulder holster but Longarm didn’t think of Harding as the pistol type. He wondered what was happening to Earl Combs. Apparently, they had left him lying on the floor to suffocate. Longarm glanced back at the chimney. He could see his shirt was on fire and in another second it would burn away and the smoke would go up the flue again. He carefully drew his pistol and cocked it. He leaned down over the edge of the roof.

He said loudly, “You’re under arrest. Raise your hands.”

There was a shocked silence as all three men suddenly straightened up and looked around.

Longarm said, “You’re under arrest. Hands up.”

The gunman farthest from the door glanced up. Instinctively, his hand went to his revolver and he started to draw. Longarm shot him square in the upper chest, the bullet appearing to drive him downward before it knocked him flat over on his back.

The second gunman was just a half second behind his companion. Longarm let the man’s gun clear the leather of his holster and start upward before he shot the man. The bullet seemed to catch him just below the neck. He staggered and then fell backward. Longarm was already moving. Richard Harding was staring up. As he fumbled inside his coat, Longarm already had an idea what he was looking for. Without pause, he jumped. He didn’t want to kill Harding, he had other plans for him. He watched the man’s face come straight up at him as he plummeted downward. He landed a boot on each side of Harding’s shoulders. He felt something crunch under his right boot heel and then Harding was going down, crumpling beneath him. Longarm had a very soft landing. He rolled off the man and got quickly to his feet. Harding was lying on the ground, stunned. He looked up, his eyes suddenly fluttering open. Longarm could tell Harding wasn’t seeing straight just yet. Then he could see the man’s eyes clear as he stared into Longarm’s face. For a second, Harding just blinked his eyes, his mouth going slack. He said, “Why, you … you…”

Longarm finished it for him. “You son of a bitch. I’m here, Harding. I guess you didn’t expect that. Now you and I are going to have some real fun, Mister Brown.”

Chapter 11

Longarm’s shirt had burned away and the smoke had disappeared up the flue. Now he sat in a chair and Earl Combs was slumped on the floor near the door where he had been when Longarm had prodded Richard Harding back into the room. Harding was sitting on the floor, holding his left shoulder, moaning that his collarbone was broken. Longarm said, “Where’s my badge, Harding?”

Harding said, “I don’t know.”

“I’m going to ask you one more time. I think you’ve used those very words yourself, haven’t you, on Mr. Earl Combs here? I’m going to ask you one more time where my badge is.”

Harding looked at him. The man was still unrepentant. He still thought he was on top. He did not know what had transpired to bring about his downfall. He said, spitting out the words, “You’ve got nothing on me, nothing you can prove. As a matter of fact, I may have you up on charges; you’ve broken my collarbone. I don’t know anything about your badge.”

Longarm suddenly reached out and grasped Harding by the left wrist. He began to rotate the man’s arm so that he could see the two ends of the broken collarbone turn under the skin. Harding let out a loud scream and writhed on the floor. He couldn’t jerk his arm away because it only brought on more pain.

Longarm kept turning the arm as if it was a crank. He said, “Whenever you’re ready, I’ll stop.”

Harding screamed, “It’s in my valise! Please, stop!”

Longarm let the arm drop. There was a pigskin leather case against one wall. He said, “Is this it?”

Harding nodded dumbly. Longarm took two steps to the case and then set it up on the table. He opened it. It was full of clothes and papers. Toward the bottom, he found his badge. It was still intact. He was about to put it in his shirt pocket when he realized he wasn’t wearing a shirt. Instead, he stuffed it in his right pants pocket along with the cartridges that he had taken out of his shirt pocket. He didn’t much want to go into town bare-chested so he found a white silk shirt of Harding’s and put it on.

“Damn, Richard. It seems as if I’m always borrowing your clothes. I had to wear an outfit of yours out at your ranch just before I killed most of your men.”

Harding gave him a hard look. “Go to hell, Longarm.”

“No, I believe you’re the one who’s got the seat reserved for that trip.”

Harding said, “You can’t do a damned thing to me.”

Longarm finished buttoning the shirt and smiled. He said, “You get yourself a good place on the front pew and watch me.”

“You don’t have a single witness that I had anything to do with you.”

Longarm smiled at him. He was not about to mention Sarah to the man. He had a little surprise cooked up for Harding where Sarah was concerned. He said, “Give me that key to those manacles you’ve got on Combs.”

Harding looked at him and said, “Make me.”

Longarm reached for the man’s left arm and the judge suddenly discovered the key in his waistcoat pocket. Longarm helped Combs to his feet. The man was still moaning and looked half dazed. Longarm unlocked one of the wrist irons and clamped it onto Harding’s left wrist.

He said to Combs, “The judge has a collarbone broke on that side. If you jerk on him, it’ll hurt him worse than ice water on an aching tooth.”

He forced the two out of the cabin ahead of him. They walked through the front door awkwardly, neither one willing to give way to the other. Finally, Longarm shoved Harding on ahead, then he shoved them both past the two dead men and around the corner of the cabin. He made them wait at the edge of the river by the corner of the corral while he put the harness on the two buckboard horses. After that, he led the two horses out and hitched them to the wagon tongue. He climbed up on the seat and bade Harding and Combs get in the back. They did so with many a groan and a cry and a moan. Longarm was enjoying it, especially Harding’s plight. He actually almost felt sorry for Combs; not quite, but almost. He did enjoy seeing Harding in pain. Occasionally, Combs would lose his balance as they struggled to get themselves arranged in the buckboard and would jerk on Harding’s left arm, which would cause the judge to scream in pain. Before they were quite settled, Longarm slapped the team with the reins and took off in such a way that the two men tumbled over on their sides. That brought more screams. They had broken three of Combs’s fingers and had made a bloody mess out of several of his toes. Longarm had thrown the man’s boots into the back of the buckboard, but he figured it would be a while before the man was going to be able to walk very far. He had left everything else in the cabin as it was. The judge had wanted his valise but Longarm had denied him the baggage.

They went along up the path to where Longarm had left his horse tied. He got down, fetched the horse and tied him to the back of the wagon, and then got back in and started for town. It was late. He guessed it to be going on midnight, at least, and it would be another two hours before they were back in town.

As they rumbled along under the almost full moon, Longarm turned his head around and said to Earl Combs, “Earl, you can tell me where that key is or not. I can get that box open with a court order, but I can also make things harder on you than they have to be. You’re not going anywhere for a long time, and I already know where the money is, so if you want me to make things easier on you, then tell me where the key is.”

Combs looked down to the floor of the buckboard. “It’s in my heel.”

“What?” Longarm said.

“It’s in the heel of my right boot. It’s in a little hole. All you have to do is pry it off.”

Longarm nodded. “That’s pretty damned smart, though I don’t see why you took that punishment.”

Combs said, “I didn’t want this son of a bitch to have it.”

“Yes, but if I hadn’t have come along, he might have gotten a court order to have the box opened himself.”

Harding said, “You’re damned right. I’m a federal circuit judge, and listen, you little pissant deputy marshal, you better remember that. When this mess gets straightened out, you are in big trouble.”

Longarm laughed. “How do you plan to get away with that?”

“I made a deal to fetch you back safely and to get the money from Combs. That’s what I’ve done.”

Longarm looked around at him, amused. He said, “Didn’t you find it a little funny how they suddenly gave in to your proposal?”

Harding stared back at him, puzzled. He said, “What are you talking about?”

“I reckon you’ll find out.”

It was almost three o’clock before they finally rolled into Laredo. Longarm had taken it easy on the livery stable buckboard horses. They’d had a forty-mile round trip and he took it as lightly on them as he could. He pulled the buggy up in front of the sheriff’s office and then pulled Combs and Harding out of the back and onto the street. He unlocked the cuff on Combs’s wrist and quickly jerked both of Harding’s arms behind him and handcuffed the loose cuff to his other wrist. Then he shoved both of them toward the sheriff’s office. Two deputies were on night duty when he came through the door with his prisoners. He shoved Earl Combs forward.

He said to the young sheriff’s deputy standing behind a desk, “I’m Custis Long, U.S. Deputy Marshal.” He got out his badge and showed it to the deputy. “And this is Earl Combs. He’s a federal prisoner. I want him held until he’s picked up by federal authorities. Do you understand?”

The young deputy looked nervous and surprised. He said, “Yes, sir, Marshal Long. I’ll lock him up.”

Longarm said, “Don’t lose him.”

“No, sir, I won’t.” The deputy was staring at Richard Harding. He asked, “Is that Judge Harding you got there?”

Longarm said, “Yes, but I’m not going to put him up in your hotel tonight.” Harding suddenly said, “Deputy, I’m a federal court judge. I demand you arrest this marshal. He is illegally detaining me.”

Longarm took Harding by the left arm so that it would pull on his collarbone and jerked him to the front door. Harding let out a scream. Longarm looked back at the deputy. He said, “He was a federal circuit court judge but he’s not one anymore. He’s just a common criminal. I’ll be bringing him back in a little while. Until then, watch good over that other one.”

Harding was nervous once they got back into the buckboard. He said to Longarm, “Listen, what are you going to do with me? If I’m your prisoner, by rights you should have left me in that jail. What are you planning? To take me out in the country and murder me someplace where there’re no witnesses?”

Longarm said, “I’ve got a better idea than that.”

He pulled the buckboard into the hotel’s livery and tossed the reins to the night man. He explained that the outfit belonged to the town livery down the street and wondered if he could get someone to return it. He gave the night man a dollar.

After that, Longarm walked Harding up the steps of the hotel, but at the door, Harding balked. “I’m not going into the hotel like this. Handcuffed and disgraced? No!”

Longarm opened the door and shoved him forward, so hard that Harding fell to his knees ten feet into the lobby. It was deserted except for the night desk clerk. He looked at Harding and then at Longarm with surprise. He said, “Marshal, is everything all right?”

“Yeah, it’s finally getting all right, but it took its own good time about it.” Longarm took a few steps toward the desk. “As well as I recollect, you have always kept a cane or two around here for some of your older guests in case they mislaid theirs, is that right?”

The desk clerk was still looking at Richard Harding. He said, “Yes, sir. We have several. Did you need one?”

Longarm walked over. “Yeah, do you have a good india rubber style there?”

The young man said, “Yes, sir, I do.” He handed Longarm a thin handsome cane that was just about the size and the heft and the stiffness that he desired. As he was about to turn away, the desk clerk whispered to Longarm, “Isn’t that Judge Harding over there?”

Longarm said in a loud voice, “That’s ex-judge Harding. Right now, he’s a federal prisoner.” He walked over to the man and tapped him lightly with the cane. He said, “Get up to your feet, Harding, or I’ll jerk you up by your hair.”

With his hands handcuffed behind his back, the judge had a hard time struggling up. Finally, Longarm grabbed him by the left arm and pulled him to his feet. The judge gave a small scream of agony. He swore.

Longarm slapped him across the back with the cane, hard enough to feel. “What’s the matter with you, Judge? Ain’t you got no better manners than to cuss in the lobby of a public place? Now, get on over there to those stairs.” He gave the judge another shove, not quite so hard this time.

They went up the stairs, the judge stumbling and complaining about his hands being handcuffed. Longarm said, “You know, that reminds me of my own particular situation about a week ago. Some son of a bitch did me the same way you’re rigged up and then set me on a horse and rode me about four or five hours. I’ll tell you, my shoulders were sore for days afterward. Is that what you’re talking about?”

Harding didn’t say anything.

They went down the hall to Longarm’s room. He stopped Harding with his arm. As he got his key out, he said to his prisoner, “Now, Harding, we’re going in here, into my room. If you make any noise or any sound to wake anybody up, I’m going to split your skull for you. Do you understand me?”

Harding turned and looked at Longarm coldly. “You’re a bully.”

It was all Longarm could do to keep from speaking of Sarah. He said, “Bully, huh? Well, you ought to know about that.” He unlocked the door and pushed Harding into the room. As they passed the open door that connected his room to Sarah’s, he could see that her room was half lit. He listened quietly for half a moment, making sure she was asleep. He wasn’t ready for her just yet and the light from her room gave him enough visibility so that he didn’t have to bother with the lamp in his own room.

He got out the key so that he could unlock the cuff from one of Harding’s wrist. As the man’s arm swung forward, Longarm said, “You better not get any big ideas, Harding, or I’ll break that other collarbone of yours.”

He took off Harding’s coat, working it carefully over the handcuffs. Harding seemed to be under the impression that Longarm was going to do something about his broken collarbone. He said, “It’s about time.”

Longarm took off the vest the man was wearing, then undid the tie and stripped that off. The shirt followed and then the undershirt. The undershirt had to come over his head so Longarm didn’t bother. He just ripped it off.

Harding was looking both annoyed and uncertain as he stood there, bare from the waist up. He said, “Here! What are you about?”

Longarm casually slapped him bare-handed across the mouth. A trickle of blood came out of the corner of Harding’s bruised lips. Longarm said, “I told you to keep quiet. Open that yap again and I’m going to break your nose. I hear tell you pride yourself on being a treat for the ladies to see. If you make any more noise, your own mother won’t want to look at you, if you ever had one.”

Now that he had stripped Harding bare, Longarm started to pull his hands behind his back again to complete the manacling but Harding protested, whispering, afraid to make any noise. He pleaded with Longarm, “Please. Please, Marshal. Handcuff me in front. It’s killing my broken collarbone.”

Longarm thought a moment, looking at the man. He said, “All right, but if you cause any trouble, it’ll go that much worse for you.”

Harding said, “I swear, Marshal. I won’t be any trouble. Just please don’t handcuff me behind my back.”

Longarm shrugged and then handcuffed his wrists together in front of him. He stepped back. He said, “I’m going into the room next door. If you even move out of your tracks, I am going to come in here and have you for breakfast. Do you understand me? The door to the hall there is locked; you can’t get out of it. This room is on the second story, and you can’t get out of one of those windows. You can’t get away from me and you’re only going to agitate me if you try. Understand?”

Harding nodded mutely.

Longarm gave him one more look and then slipped quietly into the next room where Sarah was asleep. For a second, he looked down at her. She looked very little-girlish, relaxed with her hair arranged. A far cry from the whipped, frightened creature he had met not much more than a week previous. He leaned down and put his lips on hers, kissing her quietly until her eyes fluttered open. He was kissing her not only because he wanted to but also to keep her from yelling out. When he saw that she was awake, he pulled back and put his fingers to his lips.

He said, whispering to her, “I’ve got a surprise for you. It’s going to scare you a little bit at first, but I think you’re going to enjoy it.”

She pulled herself up on one elbow. She asked, “What time is it?”

“I don’t know. Probably about four o’clock in the morning.”

“What kind of surprise can you have at four o’clock in the morning?” she asked.

“You just get up, get dressed, and turn the lamp up. You’ve got a good heavy robe, don’t you?”

She nodded. He said, “Well, put that on. I don’t want you showing too much.”

She wrinkled her brow. “What kind of a surprise is it?”

He said, “It wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you, now would it?”

She shook her head. She said, “You are the most amazing man.”

“Hurry up and get dressed and call me when you’re ready. Just call me—don’t come to the door. I’ll bring the surprise through the door.”

Sarah threw the covers back and put her feet over the edge of the bed as he stood up. She said, “Well, you certainly have me curious.”

“It’s probably the last thing in the world that you ever expected to be surprised with.” He turned around and walked back into his room. Harding was standing in exactly the same spot that Longarm had left him in. Longarm didn’t think he had suddenly become obedient or any less defiant. He knew that the man had plenty of fight left in him, which was as he had hoped. Longarm wanted to watch it drain away under the hands of someone he himself had tortured and almost ruined.

Five minutes passed before Longarm heard the summons from the next room. He took Harding by the arm and turned him toward the connecting door. He was carrying the hard india rubber cane in his right hand. Harding asked, “Was that a woman’s voice?”

“Not to you it ain’t,” Longarm said.

Harding said, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’ll see.”

They got to the doorway of the well-lit room and Longarm put his hand in the middle of Harding’s back and shoved him forward. He heard a frightened shriek.

Chapter 12

He hustled around Harding, hurrying to reassure Sarah. She was dressed in a heavy quilted robe, but she was backed up against the end of her bed, her hands covering her face, her eyes fright-filled. Longarm went over to her. He said, “No, no, no, honey. You don’t have to fear him anymore. He’s yours now. The shoe’s on the other foot.” She said in a trembling voice, “My God, it’s Richard.”

Harding walked a few steps into the room and asked, “What’s she doing here?” He said it viciously, tearing off each word.

Longarm reached him in two steps, grabbed him by the arms, turned him and slammed him face forward toward the wall. He said, “Get over there and stay there and don’t open that damned mouth again or I’ll let some air into you.”

Then he turned back to Sarah. He said, “Here’s the man who tried to ruin your life. Here’s the man who turned you into a hostage wife. Now, I’m going to give you the chance to give him some back.” He held out the india rubber cane. “Have at him.”

She looked at the cane and then she looked up at Longarm. She said slowly, shaking her head, “I couldn’t. I couldn’t.”

Longarm said, “Hell, Sarah. He beat the living daylights out of you. What do you mean you can’t? Of course you can.”

Sarah shook her head. Her hands were down at her sides now but there was still horror and fear in her eyes. She said, “Oh, I couldn’t. I couldn’t.”

From across the room, Harding laughed. “What’s the matter, Longarm? Surprised? When I train them, I train them good.”

“Listen to that! The damned fool is still shaming you. Take this cane and stripe his back good.”

Sarah started, walking toward the front of the room where the little table stood with the water pitcher and the glasses on it. She poured herself a small glass of water and gulped it down. Longarm’s bottle of whiskey was standing there. She said, “Can I have a drink?”

“Yes, by all means. Have a big one and then go beat the hell out of that son of a bitch,” Longarm said.

She poured a tiny amount of whiskey in her glass and then added three times as much water. She drained it in one swallow and, after a moment, seemed to look calmer. She looked up at Longarm. She said, “I know you think you’re doing me good, but it’s not. I’m not that kind of person, Custis.”

Longarm said, “All right, you can’t hit him. That’s fine. But I’ve seen the scars on your back and your breasts where he burnt you with a cigar.” He fumbled in his pocket and got out a cigarillo and struck a match with the thick nail of his thumb, lit it and got it drawing good. He said, “Now there. Go plant a few of those burns on his back.”

She looked at the glowing cigarillo and then she looked back up into Longarm’s face. She said, “I can’t do it, Custis. I can’t do it.”

Longarm said, “You have to hate that son of a bitch like nobody else in the world. Here’s your chance to get back at him. Think of all the things he did to you. I saw you when you were whipped down like a dog.”

“It doesn’t matter,” she said. “I can’t be like him.”

Longarm had his back to Harding. He heard the man laugh cruelly.

Harding said, “Ain’t working out like you’d planned, is it, Longarm? I could have told you that. Little Miss Sarah ain’t got the backbone of a turnip. She’s too sweet, she’s too nice. I had a lot of fun, playing with her. She never did learn how to fuck though, Longarm. I don’t guess you found that out being the gentleman that you are. She didn’t know how.”

Longarm said savagely, “Shut your damn mouth, Harding.” He looked back around at Sarah. She had blushed scarlet. He said, “Doesn’t that make you want to give him a little of what he gave you? Doesn’t that make you want to help him out? Give him a thrill or two?”

Sarah just shook her head again. “I couldn’t, Custis. I couldn’t hurt someone just to be hurting them. I don’t ever want to be like him. I know that I should, but I can’t.”

Longarm was frustrated and nettled. He said, “Damn it, Sarah. I went to considerable trouble to bring this son of a bitch up here to let you get yours back at him and now you’re telling me no. That don’t make a lick of sense. If he’d done to me what he done to you, I’d take him outside and bury him up to his nose and leave him there for about a month.”

She said, “I know you’re trying to help me and you are doing this for my own good. But I can’t do it.”

“You’ll end up spending your hate on him the rest of your life. Get it out right now. Get it out, take it out on him.”

“I don’t even really hate him.”

Longarm looked up at the ceiling and sighed. He said, “That don’t make no sense, Sarah. Here, take this cigarillo and go over there and put a hole in his back.” He was holding the cigarillo out toward her, motioning for her to take it from him.

Suddenly, Sarah let out a scream and shoved him. For an instant, he didn’t realize what had happened. She had shoved him hard enough so that he stumbled backward. As he stumbled, there was the sudden roar of a gunshot. Instinctively, Longarm’s hand whipped down to his own revolver. He was falling backward, turning to his left and drawing at the same time. As he came around, he saw Harding at the end of the room. He had found the gun that had belonged to Chulo that Longarm had left on the table near the window. He had it thrust out in front of him in both hands. He was cocking it for another shot as Longarm cleared leather with his revolver. He hit the floor on his left side, his right arm going straight out. He thumbed the hammer back on the .44-caliber pistol, and aiming straight at the center of Harding’s chest, he fired an instant before Harding could get off a second shot. The impact of the bullet knocked Harding backward into the window shade. Longarm could vaguely hear glass breaking. He thumbed the hammer again and fired as Harding pitched forward. The second slug caught him high in the shoulder, knocking him back against the sill of the window. Harding slowly rolled forward and then was still.

Through the haze and the noise, Longarm looked up from the floor, searching for Sarah. The last time he’d seen her, she’d been standing by the little wash table. He raised up and saw her lying on the floor. He dropped his gun and hurried to her as quickly as he could. Her robe was light blue and he looked carefully for the dreaded crimson stain. There was none. He began rapidly to unbutton the robe. She was white, pale. Her eyes were closed. He got the robe unbuttoned all the way down the front and opened it up. Then he saw the blood. It was on her upper arm. Because she was still wearing her nightgown, he couldn’t tell if the bullet had broken bone or not. He took her nightgown by the neck and ripped it down the left side. To his relief, he could see that the bullet had hit her shoulder, tearing through the soft flesh, but it had obviously missed the bone. The impact had knocked her down and the pain and the fright had made her faint.

Longarm cursed himself for being such a damned fool as to have turned his back on a man like Harding, but then he’d been so cocky, so confident that he had the situation in hand that he had forgotten all about the gun. If Sarah hadn’t seen Harding aim the gun and shoved him aside, it would have been he, Longarm, who would have taken the bullet squarely in the back. He caressed Sarah’s hair for just a second before getting to his feet. She needed a doctor. She wasn’t losing much blood, but she was losing some. He was about to rise when there came a sudden knocking on the door and a babble of voices.

He yelled, “Get a doctor! Now! Get a doctor!”

While he waited for the doctor, he got up and walked over and looked down at Richard Harding. The man had caused trouble and violence and evil for the last time. Longarm was furious that he had gotten off so lightly, with just a bullet. He couldn’t help himself. He drew back his leg and kicked Harding in the ribs as hard as he could, knowing the man was far past feeling anything. Somehow, though, it made him feel better. Then he quickly went back to Sarah’s side. She was beginning to stir and moan. He smoothed her hair and talked softly to her, waiting for the doctor to come.

Chapter 13

It took the better part of a week for Longarm to get the whole business wound up and all the loose ends tied down. By the end of that time, he felt he was about as sick of Laredo and its environs as any place he had ever been. It seemed like a year ago since he’d taken the train to Mexico City to bring Earl Combs back. It seemed like a month since he’d walked Richard Harding in to face his wife. He guessed Sarah’s attitude toward revenge made her a better person than he was. It still made him angry that Richard Harding had gotten out so easy with a bullet. Longarm would have much preferred for him to have spent the rest of his life breaking rocks in a federal prison in Arizona.

The biggest chore of all had been the examiners and the investigators from the federal banking system who had come down at his signal that the matter was finally ending. He had gotten the key to the safety-deposit box from Earl Combs and had gone himself and made certain that the money was in box 509 before he telegraphed the proper authorities. It had been there, although it was short ten thousand dollars. Combs at first refused to admit that he had taken the money, citing some imaginary partner. But they both knew better, and in the end, Combs admitted that he had taken the money to live on until the trail had cooled and he could come back for the rest of the money some distant day in the future. Longarm had been surprised that he had left the money in Laredo, but Combs had given him an astonished look. He said, “You certainly didn’t think I was going to take that amount of cash outside of the United States, did you?”

Longarm stared at him and nodded. He said, “No, I reckon not.”

Combs said, “Why, do you have any idea how many thieves there are in Mexico? How many highwaymen? How many robbers?”

Longarm had smiled and said, “No, but I do know there is one less now that you’re in jail on this side of the river.”

About five investigators and examiners had descended on him. When they counted the money, they’d given him suspicious looks and asked what did he reckon went with that extra ten thousand dollars. Longarm explained over and over again about the entire matter. He reckoned, in total, he told the story from when he picked up Combs to when he killed Richard Harding over half a dozen times. Sarah, who was one of the main witnesses, was spared most of the questioning because of her wound.

It had turned out that Billy Vail’s telegram had not quite worked. It had taken another telegram from the chief marshal to a couple of senators who were friends of his to force the Treasury officials into turning Combs over to Federal Judge Richard Harding. The most curious part of the matter to Longarm was the investigators’ and examiners’ apparent disbelief that Judge Harding had been up to any kind of criminal activity. It was only after they had gone through his court docket, interviewed his court clerks, and interviewed a number of the citizens around Laredo that they found out the extent of his deviousness and chicanery and plain out-and-out criminality. That he had kept his wife a virtual hostage had no significance to the bank examiners and investigators, They were more concerned with ledgers and figures and cash amounts than what had happened to a twenty-seven-year-old and her good heart and blithe spirit.

The Treasury bunch, as Longarm had begun to call them in his mind, had finally departed, taking the money and Earl Combs with them. Longarm had seen Combs off at the train. He hoped he never saw the man and a train at the same time again so long as he lived. Combs was still in some pain. The burns on his feet forced him to wear slippers and he had splints on three fingers as well as severe burns on one hand. Longarm had tried to cheer him up by saying, “Well, Earl, at least they won’t hand you a sledgehammer, not right off anyway. Look on the bright side of it.”

Combs gave him a sour look and boarded the northbound train.

Then there had been Sarah to get straightened out. Her wound had shocked her more than it had hurt her. It had gone through the fleshy part of her shoulder and she had bled quite a bit, but in the end it was a trivial matter. The doctor had made her stay in bed for three days, and her arm was not to be used so that the wound would heal faster. She had been relieved that it was all over, but like a man suddenly let out of jail after a long term, the free world looked frightening and unreal to her. She asked Longarm, “What will I do? I don’t know anything to do. I have no family left and I’m not trained for anything. Perhaps I can get a job at the hotel.”

Longarm laughed. He had already arranged matters. During a break with the bank people, he’d paid a visit to Richard Harding’s lawyer, who turned out surprisingly enough to be an honest man. Harding had not made a will and Sarah, being his legal spouse, was entitled to inherit everything he owned. Longarm and the lawyer had paid a call on the attractive young woman who was presenting herself as the second Mrs. Harding. She was a showgirl from New Orleans and she took the news in good humor. She’d said, “Yeah, I guess it was too good to last. It was really nice living with a rich man and not having to go to bed with him. That part I liked. It’s been a good vacation, but I guess I’m about ready to go back to work anyway.”

Within three days, she had moved out, bag and baggage, and was never seen again.

While investigating Harding’s assets, Longarm discovered he had $21,000 in cash at the bank, another $20,000 in municipal bonds as well as the deed to the big house in town that was completely paid for and which Longarm thought would fetch a considerable sum. He also owned in full the hacienda in Mexico and the cabin. Sarah was going to be well provided for.

He let her worry just for his own amusement for about half a day. Then when she was able to be up and around, he’d hired a carriage from the livery stable and driven her out to the house she had once occupied for a short time as the wife of Richard Harding. It had frightened her, going to the house, and it took quite a bit of persuasion on his part to get her out of the carriage and up the walkway and onto the porch. But there she balked. She said, “There’ll be someone in there. That woman is in there. We can’t go in.”

At that point, faced with her absolute reluctance, he’d had to tell her that the house belonged to her and that the woman was gone, that she was now mistress of the place.

They’d gone in and he’d stood and watched as she ghosted through the big house, seeing it, he supposed, for the first time with completely new eyes. She wandered around for the better part of two hours. When she finally came back to Longarm, she said sadly, “It’s a wonderful house but it has a bad feel about it. It feels like he’s still here. I don’t want to live here.”

Longarm shrugged. He said, “Me and the lawyer done figured that much. He’s got a buyer already lined up who will give you forty thousand dollars for the place.”

Her eyes got big and her lips parted slightly. She said, “Forty thousand dollars! That’s a fortune.”

Little by little, he had let her find out about the rest of her assets. When he finished, he said, “My lady, you’re a very rich woman. Some handsome young man is going to come along and sweep you off your feet and you’re going to wonder if it’s you or the money. Let me tell you right now, it’ll be YOU.”

She’d looked at him and said, “Do you ever think about marrying, Custis?”

He shook his head and smiled. “It ain’t good policy to marry U.S. deputy marshals. It’s not the kind of work that makes for a happy home life. It doesn’t make for a good marriage if the husband is always gone or getting shot at.”

She smiled at him again. “I knew you were going to say that but I couldn’t help but ask.” She reached up and touched his cheek. “You do know that you are very special to me. Not just because you saved my life, not just because you gained me my freedom, I learned a lot from you.”

He leaned down and kissed her gently on the lips. “You are very special to me also, Sarah, and I’ve learned a lot from you. I know now that everything in life doesn’t have to be hard and rough and hurtful. You’re quite a lady.”

She had been unsure of her plans, but she did know that she was going to leave Laredo and the border country. Longarm said, “I think that’s a good idea. This ain’t no place for a gentle woman. This place is bad. If you stay here long enough, you go bad.”

She looked up at him. “Do you think that’s what happened to Richard?”

He shook his head. He said, “No, I think Richard Harding just brought more evil to an already bad place, like so many others who have come here. No, the border didn’t corrupt Richard Harding. He was meant for this strip of ground.”

She had thought perhaps with the money she now had that she would go back to Kentucky. Maybe even live in the town she had grown up in.

Longarm said, “At least that way you will meet the kind of man you should have.”

Even with her shoulder to be careful of, they’d still managed to have three wonderful nights together. It was the kind of sex that Longarm had almost forgotten about. She was so unknowledgeable, so fresh, so new, so virgin-like. It was a pleasure for him to lead her slowly through the erotic paths of passion and ecstasy and climax. With his lips and his tongue and his penis and his fingertips, he had taught her about her body, slowly drawing her out until she would almost quiver with the power of her excitement. He had stood her naked in front of a full-length mirror and showed her what a beautiful woman she was, showed her how perfectly shaped her full breasts were with their big nipples, showed her on the bed how perfectly they fit together. Now, it took him only a few minutes to bring her to a warm, moist readiness, ready to receive him as he thrust into her. It had been three nights he didn’t suppose he would ever forget. Neither would he forget the sight of her body in his mind’s eye. She was as close to being the perfect woman as he guessed he had ever seen. He knew part of that was because when he’d first seen her, she’d looked so dowdy and lumpy in the blanket-material robe with her tangled and tousled hair. To have such a butterfly emerge from an ugly cocoon had something to do with it, he was sure. But yet, simply lying in bed and looking at her as she stood before him with her lips slightly parted and her big gray-blue eyes and her light brown wavy hair curving down around her shoulders, he had to admire her small waist, the slight mound of her stomach, her straight, shapely legs joining in the downy thatch of light brown silken hair. No, she was truly one of the most perfect women he had ever met, and it was with more than a trace of sadness that he had told her good-bye when he left the hotel. She had wanted to come with him to the train to see him off but he wouldn’t have it. He had explained to her in the room that he wanted to tell her good-bye properly and leave with that kind of good-bye as a memory, not some hurried kiss among a flock of strangers beside a train hissing steam.

So they had parted that way, and now he sat in the same saloon and at the same table he’d occupied on that disastrous day some two weeks past when Mr. Jenkins had begun casting glances his way. He hadn’t planned it as a man would who had started a job and hadn’t completed it and was determined to come back to finish. He had not said to himself, “I’m going to go into that saloon, sit down and have a drink, and catch the train this time. This time, I’m not going to Mexico on some wild-goose chase.”

No, it had been much simpler than that. The train had been reported late and he thought it would be better to be sitting drinking whiskey while he waited, than hanging around a train depot.

Still he did find it funny. He was not much looking forward to getting home to Denver, in spite of the lady dressmaker he was very fond of who lived there, the one who lived in the same boarding house and liked to be taken unawares. She liked to play dress up and then dress down. Longarm was a broad-minded man. If what he was after was at the end of it, he was quite willing to wind through a rabbit warren as cheerfully as the next man. What he mainly dreaded about getting back to Denver was trying to explain this whole mess to Billy Vail and to write the report and, after that, to make out his expense voucher. That was going to be some piece of business. He’d turned his horse back in to the horse trader he’d bought him from and got one hundred seventy-five dollars in return. He figured he could just write that twenty-five dollars off. Billy Vail would say, “Twenty-five dollars to rent a horse for a week? Are you crazy? Do you think the United States government is made out of money?” And of course, there’d been no hope of shipping the horse back to Denver even though it was, technically, government property. Billy would have thrown a fit over that.

Longarm sighed and poured some more whiskey in his glass. It was coming up time to go back over to the depot. He sipped slowly at the whiskey, which may have been the best Laredo had to offer but was nowhere near as good as his Maryland whiskey that he was now out of until he got home. He dreaded the trip, he dreaded the paperwork, he dreaded the kidding he was going to get about being taken hostage by a federal judge. He shook his head slowly to himself. He knew without even thinking hard about it that this was one that he was probably never going to hear the end of. Taken hostage? Him? Longarm? Wrapped up and tied with a red ribbon and delivered to a hacienda in Mexico? He wondered if there was any way he could lie his way out of it, but there didn’t seem to be any.

The saloon was almost as deserted as it had been the day he had been in there with Mr. Jenkins. He suddenly noticed a man standing at the bar, looking at him over his shoulder. The man was dressed in ordinary business clothes. He could have been a merchant, he could have been a drummer, he could have been a bank clerk. Longarm didn’t care what he was. The instant he saw the man looking at him, he threw down the last of his whiskey in his glass, picked up his valise, and walked straight out of the saloon as fast as he could go, heading for the depot. This was one train he wasn’t going to miss.