Longarm and the San Angelo Showdown

There was a big brass knocker on the wooden front door. He rapped it loudly. After a few moments, it was answered by a Mexican lady, a servant most likely.

Longarm said, “Senor Vernon Castle, please.”

She nodded as if she didn’t speak much English and pulled the door open and stepped aside. Longarm walked into the big, cool interior of the front room. It was styled with a high ceiling and filled with heavy Mexican furniture.

Longarm said, “Is Senor Castle here?”

The woman nodded, backing away. She said, “Si, si. Senor Castle is aqui. Yo venga.”

Longarm figured she wanted him to follow her. They were just crossing the big parlor when a man stepped out from a side room. He was tall and well built, with a shock of white hair. He was well dressed and looked as if he belonged.

Longarm said, “Mr. Castle?”

The man looked at him inquiringly. “Yes, and who might you be?”

Longarm said, “I’m Deputy United States Marshal Custis Long. I’m here to arrest you and your sons for the theft and illegal importation of Mexican cattle. I have a bench warrant from a judge in Omaha, Nebraska.”

Vernon Castle reacted as if he had been slapped in the face with a two-by-four. He went ashen white and staggered backwards a foot. He said, “What? You’ve got what?”

Longarm said, “Where are your sons?”

Vernon Castle said, “You haven’t got any damn warrant for my arrest. I haven’t been in Omaha in two years.”

“You don’t have to be in Omaha, just the cattle that you brought into this country illegally. Whether you stole them or not is another matter, but you brought them into this country illegally and you shipped them to Omaha as American-bred cattle. That is a felony and you are now under arrest for it. I ask you again, where are your sons? They are also fugitives. If you harbor fugitives, that is a second felony.”

Castle was trying hard to regain his composure. He looked around wildly and said, “I don’t know where they are.”

Longarm said, “Then let’s go into your office and wait for them.”

Castle thought for a moment and then backed toward the door he had just exited from. He said, “All right, but-“

Before he could finish the sentence, a door slammed in the back part of the house and there was the sound of heavy boots and the jingling of spurs. Both Vernon Castle and Longarm froze.

Vernon Castle started to open his mouth. Longarm put a finger to his lips. Before Vernon Castle could speak, Billy Bob Castle and his brother Glenn came walking into the big parlor. They stopped instantly when they saw Longarm. They were perhaps ten yards away. For a second they stared at him, and then recognition dawned on both, almost at the same time. A gleam came into the heavy face of Billy Bob. He started forward. Vernon Castle was not armed, but both of his sons were wearing gunbelts.

Longarm put out a hand. “Stop right there!” he said. “My name is Custis Long and I am a deputy U.S. marshal and you are both under arrest for the theft and illegal importation of Mexican cattle. Remove those gunbelts and drop them on the floor.”

They stared at him in disbelief, their eyes finally settling on the badge on his chest. They looked at one another and then back at Longarm. Glenn Castle said to his father, “Dad, is he telling the truth? What is this all about?”

Longarm reached into his pocket and pulled out the telegram. He said, “I have here a bench warrant from a judge in Omaha, Nebraska, calling for your arrest and extradition to that state to face charges for the illegal importation of cattle to the United States. I told you to drop those gunbelts.”

For a second or two nothing happened, and then Glenn and Billy Bob slowly began to draw away from each other, forming with their father a half circle around Longarm. It was clear to the deputy what they were doing. He drew his revolver, pulling back the hammer as he did.

He said, “Stop! Hold it! Hold it!”

Vernon Castle said, “Do what he says boys. He looks just crazy enough to shoot.” He glared at Longarm. “Do you have any idea how many judges and senators and state representatives and United States representatives I know? Mister, your ass is going to be in a sling made out of barbed wire before I am through with you.”

Longarm said, “That may be so, but right now I am running things. Now, bunch together. I’m not going to tell you again to get those gunbelts off.”

The two young men looked questioningly at their father. He said, “Do what he wants for the time being, boys. We’ll let the lawyers work this out. Let’s just don’t have anybody get hurt accidentally by this gun-happy fool.”

Watching Longarm, they carefully unbuckled their gunbelts and carefully lowered them to the floor. Then they straightened back up and glared at Longarm.

Billy Bob said, “Well, now, Mr. Gunwhipper. What now?”

Longarm took several steps toward them. “Now we go into the office and talk. Maybe something can be worked out here.”

He sensed something behind him and knew that he was going to be attacked before he heard the sound. He guessed that it was something he saw in the three men’s eyes. All of a sudden, a body came driving into him from behind. The weight of the impact threw him to the left and toward the floor. As he was falling, he saw Glenn leaning down for his revolver. With his arm partly restricted by whoever was wrestling him to the ground, Longarm fired just before he hit the floor. He saw the bullet hit Glenn in the thigh, knocking his legs out from under him.

The force of their two bodies striking the tile floor caused Longarm’s assailant to lose his grip. In a second, Longarm had elbowed and kicked backward until he was free. He jumped to his feet quickly, covering Vernon Castle and his two sons. He took two steps backwards so that he could see his assailant and still keep an eye on the others.

On the floor was a man he took to be Virgil Castle. He was tall and thinly muscular, wearing a pair of blue jeans. Other than that, he was unclothed. He was barefoot, he wore no shirt, and his hair was long and stringy.

Longarm asked Vernon Castle, “Who the hell is that?”

Vernon Castle said, “That’s my son Virgil.” Longarm said, “Tell him to get the hell out of here or I’ll arrest him for obstruction of justice and assaulting a federal officer in the performance of his duty.” The man got to his feet, staring at Longarm. Now Longarm could see what Mabelle had meant by the look in the simpleton’s eyes. They did indeed look like there was no one there. They were vacant and staring.

Vernon Castle said, “Son. Go on outside. Go on outside right now.”

Virgil Castle said, “What’s going on, Daddy?” His voice was deep. He sounded like a man and he looked like a man, but the way he said his words it was as if he were a small child. “is this man trying to hurt ya’ll?” He indicated Longarm. “I won’t let him hurt ya’ll if ya’ll don’t want him to.”

Vernon Castle said urgently, “Son, your brother is hurt. Get outside and get someone to come in and help. Hurry.”

Longarm watched the tall, lanky man with the dirty, stringy hair disappear out the front door. Then he watched while Vernon and Billy Bob went to where Glenn was down on the floor. A small pool of blood was outlined against the gray tile of the living room floor.

Longarm could see that the slug had gone in just to the side of Glenn Castle’s left leg. It looked to be no more than a flesh wound. The bullet had gone right through.

Longarm said, “Get a handkerchief and put a tourniquet up around near his hip. Hell, he ain’t hurt. I’ve seen steaks hurt worse than that sent back to the kitchen to get cooked some more.”

Vernon Castle turned a furious face toward Longarm. He was red with rage. “By God, sir. You have shot my son, you sonofabitch. You will damn well pay for this. You may damn well not get off this ranch alive.”

Longarm slowly pulled the hammer of his revolver back to the firing position. It went clitch-clatch. He said, “Mr. Castle, you are under arrest. Your sons are under arrest. Your son went for a weapon while being arrested by a federal marshal. You’d better be thankful for one thing, Mr. Castle, that I didn’t get a clean shot at him. I meant to shoot him straight through the chest. Do you understand me? If I hadn’t been falling, I wouldn’t have missed. As far as I’m concerned, I missed. You got that?”

Castle stood there, his face contorted. He said coldly, “I’ll get you for this, you sonofabitch.”

“You better see to your son’s leg. We’ve got a long ride into town and this little nick he’s got ain’t gonna interfere with it.”

The huge man called Billy Bob was kneeling by his brother’s leg. By this time, Glenn Castle was sitting up. He was staring at Longarm fixedly. Hate filled his eyes.

Billy Bob said, “I’m going to squash you till you ain’t no higher than a pancake, mister.”

Longarm smiled. “Last time you tried that, you almost got some brains beat into your head. I had hoped that it would take.”

At that instant, Virgil Castle returned with two cowhands. They came in and stopped, looking startled at what they saw.

One of the cowhands said, “Mr. Castle, what in the hell is going on?”

They both glanced at Longarm holding the pistol on the father and the two sons. One of them moved his hand an inch or two toward his own revolver.

Longarm said, “Don’t do anything sudden or foolish, son. I am a deputy United States marshal. I am arresting these men. You are directed right now to get outside and hitch up a buckboard. I am taking them to town with me. Spread the word among the other people that work here on this ranch. If there is any interference with the United States marshal in the performance of his duty, the first man that gets shot is going to be Mr. Vernon Castle. Is that clear?”

They stared at him, open-mouthed. Then one of them turned back to Vernon Castle and said, “Boss, what are we supposed to do?”

Vernon Castle said through clenched teeth, “For the time being, do what he tells you. We’ll get this all straightened out with the sheriff in town.” He turned to look at Longarm. “And then we’ll get this hash settled once and for all.”

Longarm said, “Now for the last time, you two men get out of here and get a buggy hitched. Bring it around to the front. I’ve got a wounded man in here. You savvy?”

Vernon Castle said, “Yes, Tom. Hurry up and get that buggy around. We need to get Glenn into a doctor. Make it a buckboard so he can stretch out.”

The two cowhands nodded and then departed. Virgil Castle just stood there. Longarm said, “You.” He motioned at Virgil. “Get over there with the rest of your family.”

Virgil stared at him as if he didn’t understand what he meant. Vernon Castle erupted into anger. He said, “Oh, no. No, no. You can well see that my son couldn’t be guilty of anything. He is a child, Marshal. Surely you’re not taking him in.”

Longarm appeared to be adamant. He said, “Why shouldn’t I? He’s one of the bunch. Doesn’t he help run the family business?”

Vernon Castle said desperately, “My God, man. Look at him. Listen to him. Does he sound like he helps run the business? He’s a child.”

“Well, what am I supposed to do with him? Just leave him here?”

“For God’s sake, man. Just leave him alone. Leave him here. The people on the ranch will look after him. They understand him.” Longarm asked, “You gonna guarantee no trouble if I leave him here?”

“Yes, yes, yes. Yes, we’ll go along quietly. We’ll get this matter settled in town, but for heaven’s sakes, leave the boy alone.”

Longarm said with a grudging sound in his voice, “Well, all right, but if he is in any way involved in this cattle business, you’ll be the loser in it.”

Vernon Castle said, “Oh, damn, man. Would you stop this business about illegal cattle. Nobody’s involved in anything.”

“You heard the charges and you can bet that I intend to get to the bottom of it.” As he said it, he knew they were thinking only about the business of illegally imported cattle. They would have no way of knowing the whole operation was aimed at catching the murderers of the U.S. Cavalry soldiers.

Longarm said, “All right, I hear that buckboard coming. Ya’ll get that boy on his feet and ya’ll start toward the front door.” He motioned with his gun. “And if anybody gets cute, it will be the last time they get a chance to do anything. Do you understand me?”

For answer, they stared at him with hate in their eyes. He decided right then and there that the Castles were just a little bit spoiled.

With the grudging, almost rebellious cooperation of the sheriff, Longarm finally got his prisoners housed in the jail. He put the two brothers in one cell and their father in another directly across from them. A doctor had been called in to see to Glenn’s wound. As Longarm had guessed, it was very slight—just a furrow along the outside of his thigh. Not much deeper than you could have laid a finger in. The doctor didn’t speak much except about the wound, but he seemed extremely puzzled as to what such a powerful family was doing in jail. Longarm made it clear that he should finish his business as fast as possible and get out and that he was under federal orders to keep his mouth shut.

Almost as soon as the door had shut on his cell, Vernon Castle had begun clamoring for his lawyer. He now told the sheriff, “Get Botts. Get Clarence Botts over here immediately. We don’t want to stay in these cells any longer than we have to. Do you understand me, Sheriff? Get over there and get me Clarence Botts.”

Longarm said, “I don’t know if it’s in the rules that you can send a law officer to fetch your lawyer. I’m not at all certain about that.” But he was just saying it for effect. He knew the problem that the lawyer was going to run into better than Mr. Castle did. Mr. Castle didn’t know it, but he was going to be in the jail cell a lot longer than he could ever expect.

Sheriff Smith said belligerently to Longarm, “Listen, Marshal, you sonofabitch. You can’t order me around. If I want to go get this man his lawyer, then I’m going to go get this man his lawyer.”

Longarm fixed the sheriff with an icy look. “I have a feeling, Sheriff Smith, that you are going to be occupying one of these cells yourself before this is all over with.”

“You go to hell.”

The sheriff turned on his heel, marched down the line of cells, and went out into his outer office, slamming the lockup door behind him.

Longarm had shown the telegram warrant to Vernon Castle and his two sons. Mr. Castle had immediately questioned the legality of a warrant sent by telegram. Longarm had assured him that it was legal and that his lawyer would so advise him as soon as he arrived.

The lawyer was not long in coming. Perhaps ten minutes passed after the sheriff left before a short, balding man came bustling down the line of cells saying, “All right, what is this all about? I demand to know what this is all about right now.”

Longarm said, “My name is Custis Long. I am a deputy U.S. marshal out of Denver, Colorado. You must be the lawyer of these accused parties.”

The little man was almost stuttering he was so upset. “I am. I am Clarence Botts. What right do you have to place these prominent citizens of this town in this jail?”

Longarm answered, “By the power of the United States federal government.”

Botts said, “I don’t care if you’re a deputy sheriff to the President of the United States. You have no night arresting a man like Vernon Castle.”

From his cell, Vernon Castle said, “Clarence, get us out of here. The man has some sort of bogus telegram from a federal judge. Just get us the hell out of here.”

Mr. Botts said placatingly, “Mr. Castle, I will have you out of here within the hour. You can be assured of that.”

Longarm reached for his pocket and took out the warrant. He said, “I wouldn’t be quite so sure about all that, Mr. Botts. You better read this. It’s from a federal judge out of Omaha, Nebraska.”

While Botts was reading the telegram and reading it again and rereading it, Longarm stood serenely by. He figured that he was much more experienced in such matters than the small-town lawyer. What the lawyer was about to find out was that no local judge could vacate the warrant or set bail. That could only be done by a federal judge, and the nearest federal judge was 150 miles away.

Mr. Botts finished reading the telegram and cleared his throat several times. He looked at Mr. Castle and said, “Mr. Castle, I want you to be very understanding about something, sir.”

Chapter 9

Vernon Castle was so angry that he could hardly speak. He said, “What do you mean you’ve got to get to a federal judge to get us out of this damn jail. Get over to Judge Watkins. Get him to set bail or to release me immediately. My God, when I think of the money I’ve contributed to that man’s campaign.”

Mr. Botts was clearly uncomfortable giving Mr. Castle bad news. He said, “You see, that’s just it. Judge Watkins is a state judge, a circuit judge. I’ve got to get to a federal judge in San Antonio.”

Vernon Castle was staggered. He shouted, “San Antonio! My God, that will take you twenty-four hours!”

Longarm said mildly, “It’s gonna take you a little longer than that. Federal judges don’t just vacate other judges’ warrants without good cause. There’ll have to be some correspondence between that judge and the one in Omaha. I think that you’d better just settle down for a nice stay.”

Vernon Castle stared at his lawyer. “Clarence, does this man know what he is talking about?”

Botts ducked his head. “I am afraid so, Mr. Castle.”

Across the way, Billy Bob was up, gripping the bars of his cell with his huge hands. He shook the door so that it clanked and rattled. He said, “Goddamnit, Paw. We got to get out of here. I can’t stand being locked up like this. I can’t stand it. You’ve gotta get us out of here.”

Vernon Castle looked at him. “Billy Bob,” he said, “I don’t need none of that right now. You settle down. You hush, you hear? Settle down like Glenn is. Let me work on this.” He turned his attention back to his lawyer. He said with menace in his voice, “Botts, you contact every important man I know and you cascade that judge in San Antonio with telegrams from those people. You be on the next train outta here for San Antonio. Do you see me? Do you see the fact that I am standing in a jail cell where God knows what vermin have been? And this man”—he jabbed his finger maliciously at Longarm—“is responsible. I want it stated right here and now that I will have this sonofabitch’s badge, if not his head.”

Longarm said calmly, “Better walk easy there, Mr. Castle. You are coming mighty close to threatening a law officer.”

Vernon Castle said, “You go to hell.” He switched back to the lawyer. “Clarence, get moving! Now! Do whatever you have to do, just get us out of here!”

Clarence Botts turned to Longarm. He said, “I need that warrant.”

Longarm laughed. “Not very damn likely,” he said. “I’ll let you write out a copy of it if you want, but I’m not about to give you this official copy. This is the same as if it were taken from the hand of the judge himself.”

Botts said, “All right, let’s go into the sheriff’s office so I can make a copy.”

Longarm and the lawyer walked out to where the sheriff was sitting morosely at his desk. When he understood what the lawyer wanted, he provided writing materials and watched as Mr. Botts wrote out the telegram meticulously, word for word. When he was through, Mr. Botts folded the copy and put it in his pocket.

Botts said to the sheriff, “Please, please. Try to settle Mr. Castle down. Make him just as comfortable as you possibly can. I’ll be back just as soon as I can.”

Sheriff Smith glared at Longarm. “There ain’t much I can do,” he said. “This is the sonofabitch that is making him uncomfortable.”

Longarm said, “I believe that’s about the thirtieth time that I have been called a sonofabitch in the last hour. When it gets to fifty, I may go to doing something about it.”

Mr. Botts said to Longarm, “Marshal, you may have bitten off a little more than you can chew.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that, Mr. Botts. A lot of people have told me that I have a big mouth.”

Longarm watched as the frantic, plump little lawyer hurried out the door. Then he turned his eyes on the sheriff. “Sheriff Smith,” he said, “I am going to leave right now and I want to make one thing real clear to you. When I come back—and I could come back anytime night or day—those Castle people had better be where I left them just now. If they ain’t, you’re gonna replace them. Do you understand me?”

Sheriff Smith looked at Longarm with venom in his eyes. He said, “For right now, and just for right now, you are holding the best cards. But there will be a new deal soon enough.”

“Maybe so, and maybe not. This may be the last hand for all you know.”

The sheriff said, “You forget one thing, Marshal. You ain’t but one man. This town is solid behind the Castles.”

“And you forget just one thing, Sheriff. I ain’t just one man—there’s a hundred and twenty troopers out there at the fort. I can requisition every damn one of them and put this town under martial law if I want to. That would include you.” He leaned toward the sheriff. “Do you understand me?”

The sheriff turned away and walked to the other side of his office, staring out. He said, “I can’t tell you to get out of here, but I wish the hell you would.”

Longarm said, “Well, for once we are in agreement.” He turned on his heel and went out the front door.

Even though it was coming dark, he rode straight to the fort and went in to see the captain, this time wearing his badge. In a very brief time he told the captain what had transpired.

Captain Montrose said, “And you think it’s this Virgil Castle?”

“He’s the best suspect I got. For a while, I thought it was an old man that lives about a mile from here named Clell Martin. Do you know him?”

The captain said, “Yes, he hates soldiers. I think he’s an old Johnny Reb. I never considered he’d do something like this. He’s all stove up from what I’ve heard. But I don’t understand why you think that Virgil Castle would do this. Because he’s simpleminded?”

“You’re not going to believe this, but I think he thinks he is an Indian. I really believe that he is still fighting the horse soldiers.” Captain Montrose looked at him incredulously. “You mean, you think a demented half-wit has been shooting my men because he is still fighting the Indian wars?”

“Well, this is an Indian fort, isn’t it?”

“Don’t talk rubbish, Marshal. We don’t have any Indians around here. My God.” He stood up and said, “Well, what do you want us to do? Do you want me to restrict my troopers to the garrison?”

Longarm said, “Captain, I’ve been thinking about that, giving it considerable thought, and I am of two minds. One, if you don’t have any troopers out, I can’t catch him in the act. But if you do, he is liable to kill somebody else. I’m going to try to watch him—that’s the reason I left him out of jail, so I could watch him. But I don’t know if I can keep that close an eye on him. He runs along on foot as far as I can tell. This is rough country. I’m not as young as I used to be. If I try to follow him on a horse, he is gonna see me. What do you think? Do you want to risk your troopers?”

Captain Montrose thought about it for a few moments. He said, “Why don’t I restrict them for a couple of days and see what happens.”

Longarm said, “Well, I ain’t going to be able to tell much if you do that. I need to see if he will go for a position where he could shoot a trooper coming from town or going.”

The captain said, “I don’t understand why you didn’t arrest the other Castle family.”

Longarm said, “I had no real reason. I have no real suspicion of them. I have created enough trouble for myself arresting Vernon Castle and his two sons just to cut him off and isolate him. I really couldn’t work up a healthy appetite for arresting James Castle. His children are young. My plan now, though, is that I’m going to go to work on Vernon and try to make him give Virgil up. I don’t know if he suspects Virgil of doing this, or if he knows he’s doing this or what, but he’s not liking that jail at all. So I am going to be pounding on him and trying to convince him that the boy will be better off—I say boy, but really he is a man—that Virgil would be better off in one of those asylums than running around the country shooting people because sooner or later, someone is gonna wind up shooting him.”

Captain Montrose said, “I will be guided by whatever you say, Marshal. I tell you, this is a very frustrating situation.”

“I couldn’t agree with you more. The one thing that I do want you to do, Captain Montrose, is that if there is any trouble, any trouble at all, of any kind, I do not want you to deal with it yourself. You will be dealing with civilians and that is my job. I want you to get word to me as fast as you can. I’ll either be somewhere in town or I’ll be hid out somewhere along the road that circles to the south, to James Castle’s ranch, and the one up north of here, to Vernon Castle’s ranch. I will be most likely somewhere near Vernon Castle’s ranch or around town somewhere. If I am around town, I will most likely be at the jail or somewhere around my hotel.”

Captain Montrose said, “All right. My God. I hope this will be the end of this.”

That night, Longarm rode out to Vernon Castle’s ranch, to a position about a quarter of a mile from the main gate. He stayed for several hours, watching. He felt that it was nothing more than a futile gesture, however. Virgil could slip away from the ranch at any point as much as a mile from the gate and he, Longarm, would never be aware. In his own mind, he thought his best chance was to hammer down on the old man and make him give his son up. It was the most hopeful outcome of the plan that he had put in motion.

He hadn’t brought it up to Vernon Castle before because he wanted the old man and his two sons to have plenty of time to stew in their own juices. He figured that every minute they spent in that jail was a minute that would bring them closer to being cooperative. He was convinced the killer had to be Virgil Castle. If he was wrong, he had gone to a great deal of trouble and alienated a powerful man for nothing. Naturally, he had no intention of pursuing the charges of illegal cattle importation. All he was using that for was as a lever, as an ax, as a wedge, to try to force the old man into doing something alien to his nature.

He went over to the jail the next day, and let himself into the cells through the lockup door paying no attention to the sheriff. He walked back and stood in front of Vernon Castle’s cell. The man was seated on his bunk. He looked distinctly uncomfortable and very angry. A day’s worth of whisker growth was on his cheeks.

He glared up at Longarm. “Well, have you come to your senses and decided to let us out of here? I want you to know that my son is in considerable pain.”

Longarm said, “Well, that’s better than those five soldiers that got killed. They ain’t in no pain at all. They ain’t in nothing except a wooden box.”

Vernon Castle gave him a look. He said, “What the hell are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about the soldiers that have been shot. Haven’t you been moving heaven and earth to get that garrison out of here?”

Castle’s face clouded. “What the hell does that have to do with me?”

“Who the hell would want the soldiers out of here more than the man who is killing them? That’s one way of getting them out of here, isn’t it?”

Vernon Castle’s mouth dropped. “Are you crazy? Are you insane? Are you suggesting that I have been shooting U.S. Cavalry soldiers?”

Longarm asked, “Haven’t you had the mayor and the city council and all of the citizens around here kicking up a ruckus to get that fort closed?”

Vernon stood up and came to the cell door. He said stiffly, “One has nothing to do with the other. I am trying to get that garrison out of here for reasons you wouldn’t understand, and I have no intention of telling you. But I’m not fool enough to kill soldiers in order to move them.”

Longarm turned his head and looked into the opposite cell to where Glenn and Billy Bob were sitting. He said, “Maybe you ain’t fool enough, but you may have a son that is.”

Billy Bob said, “Why, you crazy sonofabitch.”

Vernon Castle said, “Shut up, son. I will tend to this man.” He looked at Longarm. “is that what this is all about? You think that I have been having those soldiers killed or that I have been killing them? That is why you’ve put me in jail? This isn’t about illegal cattle, is it? It’s not, is it?”

Longarm grinned for a moment. “No, but it’s a charge that I can make stick. And all three of you can get fifteen years for it. I haven’t brought your brother, James, into this yet. But the whole pack of you could get fifteen years because you all shipped cattle in common. So when I bring him in, that will be four of you going up for fifteen years.”

Vernon Castle said, “You can’t mean that!”

Longarm grinned. “Oh, yes, I can, and I do. Unless you agree to one thing.”

Vernon Castle’s face got guarded. “Agree to what?”

“Agree to give up the son who is doing the killing. You know it and I know it.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about Virgil.”

For the second time, Vernon Castle’s mouth dropped open. He sputtered for a moment and then said, “Virgil? Virgil? Do you think that Virgil is capable of killing soldiers? My God, man, he keeps rabbits! Go out to my ranch, man, and look behind the barn. He’s got a pen of rabbits. He’s as gentle as a child.”

“He also runs around at night wearing a breechcloth and carrying a rifle.”

“He is playing. He doesn’t have any bullets in that rifle.”

“So you say.”

Vernon Castle looked frustrated. “Mr. Long, I don’t know what I can say to convince you that you are way off the track. The very idea that you are holding me and my two sons here because you think that my other son is a murderer. You, sir, are the madman. You are the lunatic.”

“Virgil thinks he is an Indian, doesn’t he?”

Vernon Castle said, “I’m not even gonna dignify that with a reply. That is just absurd.”

Longarm turned sideways so that he could see into the cell where Billy Bob and Glenn were listening. He said, “Oh, is that right? What about the night two years ago when his two brothers took him up to Mabelle Russell’s whorehouse and he had a pair of wire cutters with him and he was going to nip off the two nipples of a young lady there—a lady by the name of Kathy, I believe it was.”

Vernon Castle said, “That was greatly exaggerated.”

Longarm looked at Billy Bob and Glenn and said, “Was it, boys? You were there. Wasn’t he trying to cut off her nipples with those wire cutters?”

They both looked down and didn’t say anything. Longarm turned to face Vernon Castle and said, “It’s part of the Comanche creed that they disfigure any of their wives who are caught with another brave. Virgil saw a man coming out of that room where he was going in to get his cherry popped—with, as far as he was concerned, his bride.”

Vernon Castle said, “This is preposterous.”

Longarm looked at Glenn. “Didn’t you boys tell him that he was going to get married that night?”

They still would not look up.

Longarm said to Vernon Castle, “And what about the fact that he tried to cut a steak off a horse after cutting its throat? That’s an old Comanche trick also. When they are hard-pressed and there is enemy right behind them and they don’t have time to stop and eat properly, they just cut a steak off a horse’s haunch and keep riding on. What about that?”

Vernon Castle began to tremble. He went and sat back down. His voice was not as strong when he said, “I tell you, you are on the wrong track. The boy is touched but he is as harmless as a kitten. He wouldn’t do such a thing. I would know if he did. Holding us here is not benefiting anyone. If he is a danger, the worst thing that you can do is to hold us in this cell where we can’t take care of him.”

“Well,” Longarm said, you think on it. Meanwhile, you are still facing fifteen years on this cattle business. I wouldn’t be looking for Mr. Botts to be back in here with any good news any time soon. You’re in a little deeper web than you think you are.”

He turned and started out of the jail. Vernon Castle called out after him. “Marshal, surely there is something that can be worked out here. Surely there is something you want, something that we can trade for. You don’t believe that we are guilty of illegal cattle transportation for a second.”

Longarm laughed. “Oh, hell. Don’t kid me. I know damn good and well that you have been mixing Mexican cattle in with yours and shipping them north, but that’s common practice and nobody ever enforces the law. I’m not arresting you for that. I am arresting you to make you give up that son of yours—that murderous son of yours. I am arresting you because you are the father of a murderer.”

Vernon Castle’s voice was intense as he said, “There must be something that you want.”

Longarm smiled. “Like money?”

Vernon Castle licked his lips. “Something might could be arranged.” His eyes darted back and forth.

Longarm said, “Well, there is one thing that I want.”

“What is it?”

“I want the murderer of those five soldiers. I don’t count the one in the alley, but I want the murderer who has been shooting them out of the saddle, and I think it’s Virgil. Give him up and I’ll turn you loose. He’ll be taken care of.”

Vernon Castle’s face twisted with anger. He said, “You go to hell, you sonofabitch. I’ll see you out of this town, out of this state, and out of any possible job in government service before I am through with you.”

Longarm gave him a wave as he walked out into the outer office through the lockup door. As he passed through the outer office, he didn’t bother to nod at the sheriff. Their declared hostilities were still in force.

For two nights, Longarm watched and patrolled and hid out wherever he thought that Virgil Castle might be lurking, but his efforts were futile. Captain Montrose had not imposed a restriction on his soldiers going into town, but they were no longer seen on the road. They were fearful, and Longarm couldn’t blame them. But he did need them moving about. However, he could hardly go to them and ask if a few would ride back from town late at night so he could flush out a murderer. He didn’t reckon that they would take too kindly to being used as bait.

On the morning of the fourth day, he went in to see Mr. Castle again, hoping that the man could be further persuaded to give Virgil up in some manner. There had been no further killings. Of course, that proved nothing.

Mr. Castle was obviously miserable from his stay in the jail. His sons were frantic and nervous. Longarm could tell from smelling their breaths that the sheriff had been sneaking whiskey in to them. He supposed that there were some things that even a deputy U.S. marshal shouldn’t try to put a stop to.

He brought a chair with him on this visit, and he sat down facing Mr. Castle. “Mr. Castle,” he said, “your lawyer’s not back, and he’s not going to be back for quite a while. Even when he gets back, he’s not going to be able to get you out of this jail. You’re in for a long stay unless you agree to cooperate.”

Vernon Castle held his head in his hands and looked miserable. He said, “How can I convince you that Virgil is not capable of doing something like this? He’s not capable of murder. He couldn’t do something like this.”

“Oh, he could cut a whore’s tits off, but he couldn’t murder a soldier. Is that what you are saying? Hell, Vernon. He thinks that he is a damn Comanche Injun. He’s running around in a breechcloth. My God, he’s not a child.”

Castle said, “Did you see the rabbits? Did you go behind the barn and look at the rabbits he keeps? He’s a gentle soul, he likes little things, little bunny rabbits, for heaven’s sake.”

“No, I didn’t go see the bunny rabbits. But I did go into your office and I saw your gun rack. You’ve got four Hawken buffalo rifles, you’ve got four Sharps buffalo rifles, and you’ve got about six Springfields. You’ve got a whole stock of long-range, high-caliber rifles and that’s what every one of those soldiers were killed with. Now I know that you say Virgil runs around with a carbine in his hand that hasn’t got any cartridges in it. That’s fine and dandy, but what’s to keep him from taking down one of those Hawkens, one of those Sharps, or one of those Springfields and using it some dark night? Some of them soldiers were killed long after you went to bed. Just how close of a tab do you keep on Virgil, Mr. Castle?”

Vernon Castle raised a tired and haggard face. He said, “Nothing is going to convince you, is it, Marshal Long. You are convinced my boy is a murderer because he is simpleminded. You’re convinced my family has a part in the killing of those soldiers because we have tried to get that fort moved. Isn’t that the case?”

“That’s a good place to start. I can’t think of anyone else who has as much interest in that fort as you have.”

“What if I told you the real reason that I was trying to get that fort moved? Would that make any difference to you?”

“That depends on the reason.”

“If I tell you, you cost me the advantage of being the only one who knows how valuable that land really is. But if it will get you to stop persecuting my family, and especially my son, then I will tell you. Will it? If I tell you and it makes sense to you, will you release us and will you leave my son Virgil alone?”

Longarm thought for a moment. He got up. “What if it doesn’t convince me, Mr. Castle? What if your reasoning doesn’t make any sense to me? What if I am still convinced that Virgil is the man who killed those soldiers? What then?”

Vernon Castle stood up and came to the bars. “It’s got to convince you,” he said. “It will make sense. You will see my reasoning. You will see that I would have no reason to call attention to that fort by murdering soldiers. That is the last thing I would want to happen. I’m not fool enough to think that I can run the army off that garrison if soldiers are being killed there.”

“I never thought that you were that kind of a fool, Mr. Castle, but you see, I think that your son overheard you wanting that garrison moved and I think that he is fool enough to think that by killing them one at a time they would move that fort. I think that you inadvertently caused him to kill those soldiers. Now you can tell me the reason why you want that garrison moved—it doesn’t make any difference to me. What does make a difference to me is that I think that your son Virgil is trying to please you by killing those soldiers.”

Vernon Castle shook his head violently. “He knows nothing about it. He hasn’t heard a word from me about this. We don’t take him into the family councils. We treat him for what he is—he’s like a six-year-old child. Marshal. You’ve got to understand, he’s not part of the family in that way, in the business way.”

Longarm thought for a long moment. “O.K., fine. What is your reason for wanting that garrison moved?”

Vernon Castle stared into Longarm’s eyes for a long time. Then he said, “Never mind. Not now. You’re not ready to hear it. It wouldn’t make any difference to you. I’ll wait for my lawyer to get back. There is a great deal of money involved here. You’re gonna do what you’re gonna do anyway.”

Longarm got up. He said to the man behind the bars, “You do whatever you think is best for you and yours. I am going to do my job. I wish you good luck, but I wouldn’t be looking for this matter to be settled anytime soon.” He started for the door. Halfway there, he stopped and looked back. “You mentioned that there was a great deal of money involved. That seems to be your greatest interest here. Your son is out there doing God knows what. There are soldiers being murdered out there—I think your son is the one doing it—and you’re talking to me about money. You’re some kind of a father, Mr. Castle, and an upstanding citizen on top of it. Good day to you, sir.”

As he left through the lockup door he could hear shouted curses being hurled at him by all three of the Castles. He slammed the door behind him. The sheriff looked up as he passed. Longarm said without looking at him, “And the same to you too, Sheriff.” He passed on out the front door and mounted his horse.

He rode south out of town making the big circle that he had ridden so many times the past few days. As he rode, he realized that the job was getting tougher and tougher. His sleep was being seriously interfered with by the nighttime vigils he was keeping. He had to snatch meals, his drinking time had seriously been cut into, and there had been no time for continued congeniality with Miss Mabelle Russell. All in all, he thought it was one of the worst jobs that he had ever had. He hoped Billy Vail was happy.

But the job had produced a streak of stubbornness in him. It appeared to him to come down to a privileged family that thought they were going to take matters into their own hands. His job was to see that that sort of thing didn’t happen, and he took it as sort of a personal affront to deal with people like Vernon Castle and be called a sonofabitch with such regularity.

He rode on past the James Castle ranch thinking that next day he just might go out and arrest him. He continued on around on the east side of the big loop fronting around San Angelo. As he came up toward the north, he could see a small figure by the side of the road. He put the chestnut into a lope, and the figure grew larger as he kicked up dust along the road.

Two hundred yards off, he could tell that it was Virgil Castle. One hundred yards away, he could see that he was squatting by the side of the road and was wearing nothing but a pair of Levi’s. Longarm slowed his horse, put him into a walk, and then came up beside Virgil and stopped.

He said, “What are you doing this afternoon, Virgil?”

The blank-eyed young man looked up at him. He said, “Waitin’ for my daddy. My bubbas.”

Longarm said, “Your daddy and your bubbas ain’t gonna be coming home anytime soon.”

Virgil had a skinning knife in his right hand. He drew figures in the dust with the point of it. He said as if he had studied on it, “Who taken my daddy, my bubbas? Who got ‘em?”

Longarm said, “The long knives, Virgil. The long knives.” He watched the boy carefully.

Virgil looked up at him. “The yellow legs? Them blue bellies?”

Longarm said slowly, “Yeah. The soldiers. The long knives. They’ve got your daddy and your brothers.”

Virgil stood up. Only then could Longarm see that on the other side of him was a skinned rabbit. He thought, well, so much for Mr. Castle’s theory that Virgil liked bunny rabbits. He turned his horse out to the main part of the road.

He asked, “Virgil, can you shoot a rifle?”

Virgil stared at him blankly.

He asked again, “Virgil, can you shoot a big rifle?”

Virgil said, “Long knives got my daddy. Got my brothers.”

Longarm just nodded and kicked his chestnut into a lope. He thought he better have a real quick talk with Mr. Castle.

But as he circled around the fort and came even with Clell Martin’s little shack, he could see the old man out in front of his porch. On a whim, he slowed the chestnut and turned in and rode toward the old man.

Clell Martin was feeding chickens, scattering shelled corn out for them beside his house near a chicken run. Longarm pulled up his chestnut and waited until Martin finished.

Martin put down his feed bucket and came through the screen gate, shutting it behind him. He dusted off his hands.

He said, “Hi there, young man. Step down and have yourself a cup of coffee with me.”

Longarm dismounted but he said, “Well, much obliged for the offer of coffee, Mr. Martin, but I am heading on back into town. Wouldn’t mind sitting out here on the porch and visiting a few minutes, though. You care for a smoke?”

Clell Martin waved away the offer. “Never took to tobacco that away. Always chewed it.”

“Well, some smoke it and some chew it.”

Martin said, “I tell you, back during the War of the Confederacy, there was many a night when that chaw of tobacco was my best friend out there on guard duty out near them Yankee lines.”

They sat down on the porch. Longarm got his cheroot lit and then shoved his hat back. He said, “Mr. Martin, you don’t like the Castles just some little bit, do ya?”

Clell Martin immediately got agitated. “Well, if they were to all drown or be burned in Hell’s fire, wouldn’t make no difference to me. And I guarantee you that if they drown, they will be dried out in Hell.”

Longarm said, “What about Virgil? What do you think about Virgil?” His thinking was that maybe Mr. Martin had seen Virgil lurking about the road near the fort late at night. Of course, an old man like Mr. Martin more than likely went to sleep early.

Mr. Martin’s response surprised him. He said, “Virgil? Why, Virgil ain’t no damn Castle. Where did you get that idea? Virgil is an Injun. He was taken up by them damn Castles when he was just a kid. He ain’t no damn one of them.”

Longarm said, “A blue-eyed Indian?”

“That don’t make no difference,” Martin said. “That man is a Comanche Indian. Ain’t you never noticed him around? Why, he is sly as a fox—that man can outrun a deer. That man is a Comanche brave. Why, that man and I have had some good talks. A lot of folks thinks he’s a little slow, but that ain’t so. It’s just that he don’t speak the lingo as much as you might want him to. He keeps pretty much to himself and he keeps his thinking to himself. He don’t like them blue bellies any better than I do and you can imagine why. I figure them yellow legs killed his folks and the Castles drug him off with them.”

Longarm gazed at the man in disbelief. He said, “He’s blue-eyed. He’s got light-colored hair. He’s light-complected.”

Martin spit tobacco juice in the dust. “Don’t make no never mind. You’ve got your different kinds of Injuns. It’s what’s inside a man that makes him an Injun. Virgil—and that ain’t his real name by the way, his real name is Running Wolf.”

“Did he tell you that?”

Martin spit again. “Didn’t need to. I knowed it the minute I talked to him. I said, I reckon your name is Running Wolf, ain’t it?”

“And he said yes?”

“He ain’t never said no and he’ll damn sure answer to it when you call him that. Naw, naw, don’t be confusing him with them damn Castles. He’s a good man.”

“I see,” Longarm said uneasily. “Well, I guess I had better be getting on back to town, Mr. Martin. Maybe you and I could talk again sometime.”

Clell Martin walked out to his horse with him. As Longarm put his foot into his stirrup and mounted, Martin said, “Well, I don’t know what is comin’ to this country, but I tell you, I’m about ready to see a better class of people comin’ around. If we don’t get rid of that bunch doing what they call Reconstruction, this country ain’t ever going to do right by itself.”

Longarm looked down at the man and nodded his head. He turned his horse and rode thoughtfully down the road that would take him back into town and to the jail.

He almost didn’t go to the jail when he got into town. He was tired and disgusted and wanted a drink and some time to himself. He also didn’t want to listen to any more of Mr. Vernon Castle’s outraged protests or to be called a sonofabitch twenty or thirty times more. But in the end, the prospect of informing Mr. Vernon Castle that, yes indeed, his son Virgil Castle did like bunny rabbits, especially skinned bunny rabbits, proved too strong a lure to pass up.

He turned his horse in at the hotel stable and then walked across to Sheriff Smith’s office. His spurs jingled as he stepped up on the boardwalk. He turned the knob and then swung the door open wide and stopped in amazement at what he saw. There was Vernon Castle and his two sons and the sheriff and Clarence Botts, all in the outer office. The sheriff was busy getting the gunbelts of the two younger men.

Longarm said, “What the hell is going on here?”

They all glanced up, surprise on their faces.

It was Mr. Botts who did the answering. He came toward Longarm waving a piece of paper in his hand. He said, “Just take a look at this, Deputy Marshal Long. You’ll see this is an authentic notice from the federal judge in San Antonio vacating your bench warrant for the arrest of my clients. It is a habeas corpus notification, and you are hereby ordered by Judge Fisher in San Antonio to release my clients.”

Longarm took the paper and studied it for a moment. It was a handwritten document on plain stationery bearing no stamp or any official heading. He looked up at Botts. “This doesn’t look authentic to me,” he said. “In fact, this looks like something you might have written yourself in the hotel.”

Botts swelled himself up, which was difficult for a man of his small statue. “By God, sir,” he said. “That document was handwritten by Judge Fisher and signed by his own hand. I found the man at his home at night. There were no official papers to be had, and I was in a hurry to catch a train to return here so that I could relieve my clients of this durance vile that you have subjected them to.”

Longarm read the document quickly. The wording sounded official, and he knew that there was a Judge Fisher in San Antonio who was a federal judge, but he was not inclined to release the Castles and he was going to grasp at any reason he could find. He shook his head. “Makes no difference. This is not an official document as far as I’m concerned. So, gentlemen, you can just head right on back into those cells.”

Vernon Castle had been standing by the sheriff’s desk. He stepped out sideways. He said, “Marshal, you can go to hell, you sonofabitch. That release was duly and authentically obtained and you, by God, will abide by its authenticity. What document did you have? You had a telegram. This, at least, is in the judge’s own handwriting.”

Longarm said, “Well, I don’t know about that, Mr. Castle. I’m afraid I’ll be forced to put ya’ll back in those cells until I can get this verified.”

Vernon Castle said with some heat, “Like hell you will.”

Longarm’s eyes suddenly shifted to Glenn and his brother Billy Bob. They had their hands dangerously close to the gunbelts that were lying on the sheriff’s desk. He said, “You two, back up there. Back up right now. Either one of you reaches his hands toward one of those guns and I’m gonna put a hole in you. You understand?”

Sheriff Smith said, “Now, damnit, Long. I’ve had about enough of you. You get the hell out of my jail and stay out. These men have been released and I’m going to release them. I consider that bench warrant vacated by the paper that Lawyer Botts has brought from San Antonio. That’s good enough for me and it’s going to be damn well good enough for you.”

Longarm said, “Fine then. I am now officially charging you, Vernon Castle, and you, Glenn Castle, and you, Billy Bob Castle with conspiracy in the murder of five United States Cavalry soldiers from Fort Concho. So turn around and march back in to those cells.”

The sheriff came around his desk and stood between the Castles and Longarm. “Not by a damn sight, you’re not,” he said. “Murder is a local matter, and you damn well won’t be throwing your federal weight around in here on that. I can assure you of that, Marshal.”

Longarm said, “Well, that might be so, Sheriff Smith. However, in this case, the murdered parties were federal soldiers, and that makes it a federal case and my jurisdiction overrides you. Now get the hell out of the way so I can put these men back in their cells.”

The sheriff stood his ground. He said in a cold voice, “Listen, Long. You’ve rode roughshod over me about as long as I’m gonna stand for it. Now you get out of my office and you stay out of my office. You ain’t welcome in this jail anymore and you’re not going to use it for your personal lockup. I don’t care if you are a federal deputy marshal.” He put his hand near the butt of his revolver. It was not quite a threatening gesture, but it had implications.

Without pause, Longarm drew his revolver and thumbed the hammer back. It made a loud clitch-clatch in the room. The noise startled Clarence Botts. He stepped back several paces. Longarm said, “Now, I’m only going to say this once, Sheriff. You either stay out of this, or I’m going to put you in one of those cells with these men. You are interfering with a federal officer in the performance of his duty and that is a felony, and I will damn well put you in jail and bring you to trial for it. Do you understand me?”

The sheriff took a step backwards. The move seemed to unite him with the three Castles, who were standing near the lockup door. Then the sheriff said, “You’re cutting it mighty thin, Long, mighty thin. I don’t think you want the trouble you are fixing to get.”

Longarm said evenly, “Smith, with your left hand reach around and unbuckle your gunbelt. Let it fall to the floor.”

The sheriff stared at him. He said, “You’re disarming me in my own jail?”

“I am disarming a man who is trying to interfere with a federal officer. The fact that you’re the sheriff don’t cut no ice with me. Now, unbuckle that gunbelt and let it fall to the floor or I’m going to have to make use of this revolver in my hand.”

Vernon Castle said, “You wouldn’t dare shoot.”

With his eyes still on the sheriff, Longarm said, “Do you want to bet your life on that, or bet your sons’ lives on that, or do you want to bet the sheriff’s life on that?” He reached up and tapped the badge on his chest. “You might defy Custis Long the man and get away with it, but you damn well ain’t going to defy this. This says I’m a deputy United States marshal and that I represent the federal government. You’re not going to defy that. Now, I’m not even going to count to three, but if I don’t see some action here right quick, this revolver is going to go off. Is that clear?”

The sheriff’s face paled. “Now wait a minute. Hold on. Hold on there, Long. Let’s talk about this for a minute.”

“The only talk I want to hear is either you taking that gunbelt off and getting in that jail, or giving me your word that you are not going to interfere with me anymore.”

The sheriff said, his voice unsteady, “Look. You can’t do this to a man in his own town. It ain’t fittin’. We’re both law officers.”

“That’s true. Why don’t you try acting like one?”

“You have the right to lock them up on a federal charge for conspiracy to murder?”

“In my opinion I do. If I don’t, then I’m the one that has to pay for it, do you understand? The responsibility is mine, but if you interfere with me, the responsibility is yours. Even if I shoot you, the responsibility is yours.”

The sheriff turned to the Castles and said in an uncertain voice, “Mr. Castle, I don’t seem to have much choice here. I’m mighty sorry about this, but he is a federal marshal, and if he says that he has jurisdiction, there ain’t a hell of a lot that I can say about it.”

Vernon Castle stared at Longarm with hate and venom in his eyes. “Don’t worry about it, Smith,” he said. “I don’t expect you to stand up to this bully, but by God, his day is coming. You can depend on that.”

Longarm said, “If I’m wrong, you’ll have no problems giving me enough trouble to last me a lifetime. But I don’t think I’m wrong and I don’t think that you’re going to be able to get my badge and I don’t think that you’re going to be able to get out of that jail. Now, when you settle down and are willing to talk some sense to me, I might consider letting you out of that jail, but not until then. Now, all three of you turn around, march back through that lockup door, and get back to your cells. And Sheriff, you follow right along behind them and make sure they do.”

As Longarm was about to step forward, the lawyer said in a trembling voice, “What am I supposed to do now? How can I get them released?”

Longarm gave him a glance. He said, “Well, Mr. Botts, I guess you’re going to have to go back to San Antonio and see Judge Fisher again.” Longarm handed him the document he’d brought back from San Antonio. “Here, take this with you. Maybe the judge can write a new writ of habeas corpus on the back and save the government some paper.”

He followed along as the sheriff took the three Castles and put them back into their original cells. Vernon Castle was almost shaking with rage, and his two sons were no less angry.

As the sheriff passed Longarm in the corridor between the cells, he muttered, “Well, I hope you’re happy, Longarm. You’ve made me look like a piss-pot fool in this town.”

“On the contrary,” Longarm said. “I forced you to do your job. That ought to make you a big man. You stood up to me, didn’t you?”

The sheriff said, “Oh, go to hell, you sonofabitch.”

Longarm shook his head. “I do not believe I have ever been called a sonofabitch more times in as short a time in all my life.” With that, he found a chair and pulled it up in front of Mr. Castle’s cell. “Now, Vernon. I’m going to sit right down here and you and I are going to talk. Right now you don’t want to talk, and maybe you’re not going to want to talk for an hour or two hours or three hours or six hours, but I am going to sit here until you are ready to talk to me. Then we’re going to see if maybe we can’t work something out about this matter.”

Vernon Castle gave him a look. “You go straight to hell,” he said. “None of my sons have had anything to do with the murder of soldiers.”

Longarm said, “But you don’t know that, Mr. Castle, you don’t know that about Virgil. Now, I’m going to want all the information I can get from you about Virgil. I’m going to try and reach an agreement with you about Virgil. I think that maybe there is something that we can do about him and if you’re willing to do it, ya’ll can all get out of jail and we can all take care of Virgil without hurting him.”

Vernon Castle said, “Yeah, what?”

Longarm hitched his chair closer to the cell door. “Well, there’s more ways to kill a cat than to choke him to death with butter. Right now we’ve got a situation that needs some long, hard thought and you are going to have to be willing to cooperate with me.”

Vernon Castle said, “I’m listening, but I doubt there is anything that you can say that would interest me very much.”

Longarm said, “I take it then, sir, that you like it in that jail cell?”

Vernon Castle stared back at him.

Longarm said, “Because I can assure you that, one way or another, I am going to keep you and those two sons of yours in these jail cells until I get to the bottom of this matter. And I’ll tell you the reason for that. You see, I don’t like San Angelo. I don’t like being here, but I can’t leave here until I get this matter settled. So I don’t give a damn how uncomfortable, how undignified, how embarrassed you and your boys are. I’m going to keep you in these damn cells on one pretext or another until you give me some cooperation. Is that understood, Mr. Castle?”

Vernon Castle stared straight back at him. “You think that you’re a mighty big man, don’t you, Long?”

From the other cell, Longarm was amazed to hear Glenn say, “Pa, why don’t you listen to him. For God’s sake, we’ve got to get out of this damn place. My leg is itching. I’m disgusted with this whole affair. You know as well as I do you can’t keep tabs on Virgil every minute, so you don’t know what he’s been up to.”

Vernon Castle said angrily over Longarm’s shoulder, “Shut your mouth, Glenn. Shut your mouth right now.”

There came a rumbling voice. It was Billy Bob. He said, “Pa, maybe Glenn’s right.”

Longarm looked at the elder Castle. He said, “Well, Vernon, are you ready to talk turkey yet—or Injun, I should say? What’ll it be? A little cooperation or a lot of jail time?”

Vernon Castle looked down at the floor. Longarm could see the stubbornness in the bow of his neck. He didn’t think that he was going to give in easy.

Chapter 10

He spent a long two hours with Castle. When he left the jail, he didn’t know whether to be angry, puzzled, or amused. What the man had told him simply didn’t sound like the reasoning of a businessman. When Longarm had suggested that there were other methods of getting the garrison to either move or cooperate, Mr. Castle’s answer had been simple: that would have allowed everyone else in on his good thing. His good thing.

That was what Longarm thought about as he walked back to the Cutler House and went to his room. He was tired. He wasn’t a man who liked to get off his schedule as much as he had been off the past five days. He was way short on his sleep, and his eating and drinking habits hadn’t improved either. He decided that he would lie down and have a good rest before going out around midnight and making the circle one last time. He had a lot on his mind, so before he lay down, he poured himself another glass of Maryland whiskey and sat down on the bed and thought.

He wondered if Virgil was truly capable of bushwhacking the soldiers with the type of weaponry that had been involved. True, Longarm, in his reconnaissance of the house, had found plenty of heavy rifles and plenty of ammunition. But he wondered if Virgil in his simplemindedness was capable of that kind of action. Running across the plains and chasing a deer on foot, or skinning a rabbit or cutting a steak off a horse, seemed more in his line of work. But skulking up a butte and lying in wait and then using a fairly complex rifle just didn’t seem to fit in with the boy.

Boy, he thought. Well, he was a boy in many ways, even though as a man he was fully grown.

But there just didn’t seem to be anyone else. At first, he had Red Clell Martin as the prime suspect, but he had a hard time visualizing the crippled-up old man getting about the country that deftly. At least two of those shots had been fired from a higher elevation, and that meant the old man would have had to climb a butte. Longarm wondered if the old man could do that with his hip. And also, one of the soldiers had been killed on the south road, and that was a good ten or twelve miles from Martin’s home. It would have taken some scrambling on his part to have gotten there riding cross-country on a horse or a mule. Longarm assumed that he had a mule, since that was all that he’d seen about the place.

But then, it all sounded crazy to begin with. Martin didn’t even realize that Reconstruction was over with. He had the hatred for the Yankees that many Confederate veterans did, but then there weren’t many Confederate veterans murdering Yankee soldiers. He doubted very seriously that Virgil thought of himself as an avenging Indian. The best idea that he had come up with was that Virgil had overheard his father expressing displeasure with the garrison and had acted out of love and loyalty to his family. That was the only thing that made sense.

Finally Longarm sighed and started to strip down to get a good long nap. It was all too much. He had come very close to striking a bargain with Mr. Castle. In return for Longarm releasing him and Billy Bob and Glenn, Castle had indicated he might be willing to commit Virgil to an insane asylum.

Longarm didn’t know if that would do the trick or not. It could be that Virgil wasn’t really the killer and that the killing would go on. It could be that Virgil really wasn’t dangerous at all, and then it would do him a tremendous disservice to shut him up inside cold concrete walls. Longarm had never seen the inside of an insane asylum, but he had heard stories. He didn’t think that it was the most festive place to spend one’s days.

He finally gave up the whole job of thinking as a bad endeavor. He finished his whiskey, and then shucked off the last of his clothes and lay down on the bed. He was plenty tired. It felt good to close his eyes and relax. Before he knew it, he wasn’t aware of any trouble at all.

He came awake sometime later to the sound of loud pounding at his door. At first, he was groggy and couldn’t locate himself. The room was dark and it was dark outside the window. When he could finally gather his wits, he swung around on his bed and lit the lamp, yawning for a moment, before he called out, “All right! All right! I’m coming! Dammit, I’m coming!” He didn’t know if they could hear him or not, but they were damn sure going to have to wait.

He pulled on his jeans, not bothering with his boots, and with his revolver in his hand went to the door. He said without opening it, “Who is it? What do you want?”

A muffled voice said, “It’s Sergeant McClellan, sir. I’ve come from the fort. I’ve come from the commander.”

Longarm quickly unlocked the door and pulled it back. A trooper stood there in the hall. He looked agitated.

Longarm said, “What the hell is going on? What time is it?”

The trooper said, “Sir. The fort is under fire. We’re being sniped at. It’s twelve-fifteen or twelve-thirty. The captain said that we weren’t supposed to do anything, that I was supposed to come get you. He said it was a civilian matter. I’ve lost time trying to circle around the sniper. Yes, sir, it’s twelve-thirty.”

Longarm said, “All right, Sergeant. Calm down. You come on back in here with me while I get dressed and tell me what you know about it.”

They went back into the bedroom. Longarm got the rest of his clothes on and pulled on his boots and checked his derringer, revolver, and rifle while the sergeant told him of the events.

The sergeant said that since about eleven-fifteen or so, the compound had been under attack from rifle fire. There had been single shots, sometimes fired a minute apart, sometimes faster, sometimes slower.

Longarm said, “Anybody hurt? Anybody killed?”

Sergeant McClellan said, “Some of the boys have been hit by flying splinters of glass and pieces of roof when them big-ass shells came blasting through the barracks. Then Johnny Whitley was hit in the arm. The surgeon reckons it broke the bone. That’s a big shell! We figure there’s four or five horses dead. It ain’t been going on all that long. Like I say, it started, we reckon … well, it’s … it took me twenty minutes to get into town, so I guess we were under attack for about forty-five minutes before Captain Montrose sent me for you.”

Longarm said, “Can you tell where the fire is coming from?”

“Yes, sir, it’s coming off a butte a little to the north and west of the fort. Appears to be about a half a mile away. We can see the muzzle flashes.”

Longarm said, “Can you tell if it’s more than one shooter or not?”

The sergeant scratched his head under his garrison cap. He said, “Well, sir, that do be hard to say. He’s moving around. He ain’t staying in one position. Or they are moving around and ain’t staying in one position. But we never saw two muzzle flashes at one time, leastwise nobody thought to say anything about it if they did. I mean, well, I don’t know. We was just kind of figuring on it being one feller, but there could be two, I guess. I don’t know.”

Longarm said, “Well, Sergeant, we’re damn sure not gonna find out standing around here. You head on back to the fort and tell the captain that I’m on the job.”

The sergeant said, “Don’t you need me to show you where the shooter is?”

Longarm said dryly, “For some reason I think I’m going to be able to figure it out.”

He and the sergeant left together. Outside the hotel, Todd ran to fetch Longarm’s horse while the sergeant rode away.

When Todd brought his horse back, the young man looked anxious and excited. He said, “There’s trouble, ain’t there, Mr. Long? I mean, Marshal Long. You sure fooled me about that.”

“Yes, Todd, I know. Yes, there is trouble.”

“Who’s a-doin it?”

Longarm swung up into the saddle. He said, “I think I’m finally going to find out.”

He rode out of town northeast toward the fort. He had the feeling he sometimes got when he knew he was about to finally get to the nub of a matter. He felt like he was fixing to be able to scratch the itch that had been driving him crazy for more than a week. He rode swiftly as long as he was on the road, making good time for better than two miles. As the road swung east and toward the fort, he slowed the chestnut and started him into the thick brush and heavy going of the sand, rocks, and cactus. He pulled the horse down to a walk, but it was still hard on the animal. Occasionally he would stumble and Longarm would have to keep him afoot by the deft use of the reins. It was almost a moonless night. There was just the tiniest sliver of pale yellow in the eastern sky. High clouds in the dark sky overhead occasionally drifted past.

He picked his way carefully, heading in the general direction of the fort. He was not definitely certain where he was going but he had a fair idea. After about thirty minutes of careful traveling, he passed Clell Martin’s shack to his right. Not long after that, he began to hear the sound of a distant rifle. It sounded like thunder from way across the valley. There was an echo to it.

He finally hit a cleared space and was able to urge his horse to greater speed. He had left the road because he had a fair idea where the rifleman was firing from and he wanted to be able to come up on him from the rear. He went on for approximately another half mile and then dismounted, taking his rifle from the saddle boot.

He paused a moment to make sure he had extra shells in his shirt pocket that would fit both his rifle and his .44 revolver. He felt inside his belt buckle to make sure the derringer hadn’t slipped out in the rough ride.

He tied the chestnut to a mesquite tree and started forward, having rough going in his high-heel boots through the sand and the rocks. Now, of course, the firing was much nearer. He could see the butte where he knew it was coming from outlined in front of him in the dim sky. It was not particularly high, perhaps two hundred feet, but it was broad and squat. It was going to be easy to climb—easy, that is, if he didn’t have to do it under fire.

He considered taking off his boots to make the climbing easier, but he knew his stocking feet couldn’t take it for five minutes over the rough terrain. He took his hat off and laid it carefully on a rock so he’d be sure and find it on his way back to his horse. That hat had cost quite a bit of money and he had no intention of losing it in the apprehension of a crazy man.

He slowly started climbing. In the light and with the proper shoes and without being encumbered by the rifle, it would have been easy going, even if there had been a killer at the top. But under the conditions, he made slow progress. He counted five shots fired by the time he managed to make it within ten yards of the flat top that was littered with boulders. He knew that somewhere on that flat top of the butte, behind one of those boulders, crouched a man with a long-range, heavy-caliber rifle who was carrying out an insane plan.

The question in his mind was how much leeway should you give a man like that. Do you ask a crazy man to surrender? Does a crazy man even understand what it means to surrender? If you have a man doing something wrong, but he doesn’t think it’s wrong, how do you appeal to his sense of guilt? You can’t say, “Stop doing that, it’s wrong. I’ve come to arrest you.” It was a perplexing question that he wasn’t sure he’d ever faced before. Always before, the men he’d gone up against had known what they were doing. They were outlaws, they were criminals, they were killers, they were robbers. But the man who was now only a few yards away from him thought that what he was doing was perfectly right. However, that was not going to make it any less dangerous to try to arrest him rather than kill him. The easiest thing would be to kill the man outright, but Longarm couldn’t bring himself to do that. He was going to have to somehow talk the man into disarming himself. It was going to be quite a little problem. He did not want to shoot unless he was forced to. To him it would be like killing a child.

He had worked his way as close as he could without making a move. He heard the rifle boom one more time, sounding like a cannon at such close quarters. He stepped out from behind the boulder and said, “Well, don’t you think that’s enough?” In the faint moonlight, the figure turned and Longarm almost stepped back in surprise.

It was Clell Martin.

In his hands was a long Springfield .58-caliber cap-and-ball percussion rifle. He had just fired it. It was now empty and it would take it thirty seconds to reload.

In spite of himself, Longarm said, “Mr. Martin. My God, sir. What are you doing?”

The old man peered into the dimness, and even though Longarm was standing only a few feet away, it took him some time to recognize the marshal. He said, “Be that you, Mr. Long?”

Longarm said “Yes.” He slowly brought his own rifle up to bear. “Clell, put that rifle down. I know it’s not loaded anymore. I know it’s a single-shot, but put it down anyway.”

Clell Martin looked puzzled. He said, “What’s all the fuss about? Damn carpetbaggers are a-ruinin’ this country. What you wanna stop me for? Ain’t it about time they went back up north?”

Longarm said softly, “Clell, Reconstruction has been over for years. Those are just garrison troops training for the Indian wars west of here, out in New Mexico.”

Clell Martin was still holding the Springfield. He squinted his eyes. He said, “Why, you sonofabitch. You’ve been a spy right along, ain’t you? You’ve been a-spying on me for them bastards. Don’t you know, boy, that Reconstruction is ruining the South? We’ll never come back as long as we leave them sonofabitches down here. Ain’t it enough they whipped us in the war? Do they have to humiliate us the rest of our lives?”

Longarm took a slow step forward. He said, “Clell, have you been shooting those soldiers along the road?”

Clell Martin gave him a defiant look. “You ain’t never been in a war, have ya, boy? I bet you never, ever seen a calvary charge, have ya, boy?”

Longarm nodded. “I have. But right here and now is not the time or place to talk about it. Let’s you and me go on down, maybe go over to your cabin and discuss it. Right now, I want you to put that rifle down. I note that you have a revolver stuck in your waistband. I want you to get rid of that too.”

Clell Martin said, “I ain’t doin’ nothin’ with you, you scalawag. You’re a damn … I don’t know if you’re a scalawag or a carpetbagger. You come along and cozy up to me and try to make friends, and all the time you was a spying on me, wasn’t you? You were scouting me out, weren’t you? By God, you’re from that fort, ain’t ya? You know, seems to me that I noticed you went out to that fort more than several times. And you had you that story about them horses. Just who are you, mister?”

Longarm tapped the badge. He knew it was hard to see in the light. “Clell, I’m a deputy United States marshal and I am going to have to get you to come off the top of this butte with me so we can sit down and have a talk. Now, put your weapon down now.”

Without making a threat of it, he raised his rifle and brought it to bear on Clell’s chest. He said, “Let’s don’t make this any harder than it has to be, Mr. Martin.”

At that instant he heard a wild yell, a sound he had heard before. As a heavy figure struck him from behind and above, he fell, trying to remember where. As his face ground into the gritty dirt of the butte top, he remembered that it had been in the parlor of the Castle house. He could feel Virgil’s strong arms grappling around him, pinning his own arms. He fought him as best as he could.

As he fell, he could hear Martin yelling, “Get him, Injun. Get him, Injun, get him.”

He jabbed backward with an elbow and felt the grip around his neck loosen. He kicked out, connecting solidly with a shin, and felt the grip loosen even more. But then he felt a hand near his sidearm and he whirled, trying to get his right side to the ground, trying to keep his revolver from being taken from him. Now he had Virgil almost in front of him. He was surprised just how incredibly strong the slimly built young man was, but then he supposed that if a man spent his life bounding across the pastures and bounding up and down the buttes, he probably got made into rawhide and barbed wire.

Virgil went for his throat hold again, but Longarm knocked his hands loose and then got his own hand under Virgil’s chin and shoved. Then he was able to draw his right leg up and catch the man in the midsection with his boot heel. Virgil gave a grunt. Longarm shoved and sent him sprawling. Longarm came struggling to his feet moving as rapidly as he could, but he was too late.

Virgil had landed a few feet away, but Martin was standing solidly planted in front of Longarm, an old Colt revolver steady in his right hand. The old man said, “Just you hold it right there, mister, just hold it right there. Don’t you make no sudden moves.”

Longarm was winded from his struggles with Virgil. He let his right arm drift past his holster. He could tell that his revolver had been dislodged, and of course he had lost his rifle in the struggle. Now, except for the derringer, he was disarmed.

Virgil had gotten to his feet. He was wearing his breechcloth, and his long stringy hair was wild and dirty. His face bore a childish imitation of war paint. In his right hand, he now held a long skinning knife.

Martin said, “That Injun got ya, didn’t he? Mr. Deputy Marshal carpetbaggin’ sonofabitch. How’d ya like that Injun getting ya? You wasn’t expectin’ that, was ya?”

Longarm said calmly, “Mr. Martin, he’s not an Indian. His name is Virgil Castle. He is the son of a white man. He’s a white man.”

Virgil Castle spoke. “Long knives take my daddy. Clell, this long knife? He long knife? He no got blue-belly suit.”

Clell Martin licked his lips. He said, “That’s right, Running Wolf He’s a long knife, just sure as shootin’. Never mind about the uniform, he just ain’t got it on, but he’s a long knife just the same. How you want to finish him off? You want to scalp him alive?”

Longarm said, more to satisfy his own curiosity than anything else, “I see how you did it now. You both did it. Virgil shot the trooper on the south road and you shot the troopers on the north. Isn’t that right, Clell?”

“What you know and what you hear ain’t never gonna be told, so it don’t make a damn. Besides, we’re mighty proud of what we’ve done.”

Virgil Castle said, “My daddy hates them blue bellies. My daddy wants them blue bellies to leave. I want to please my daddy. I killed them blue bellies.”

Clell Martin said, “You damn right you did, Running Wolf. You done real good.”

Virgil Castle asked, “This blue belly? This man blue belly?”

Clell Martin said, “Yeah, Running Wolf. He’s a blue belly. He may be the worst blue belly of all of them. You want him with your knife like you did the one in the alley?”

Longarm said, “So you killed all six?”

Clell Martin said, “It’s fixin’ to be seven.”

Longarm asked, “Can you spare me a few minutes, Mr. Martin? If you are intent on killing me, the least you can do would be to tell me why you went about it and how you went about it. I mean, I’m kinda curious. I mean, I’m the one that’s come out on this black night. I’m the one that came up here. Mr. Martin, you forget that I could have shot you while you were leaning over that rock firing on the fort and I didn’t do it. So I think the least you owe me is an explanation.”

All the while he was talking, Longarm had hung both thumbs in his gunbelt. His right thumb was very carefully working the handle of his derringer up into the palm of his hand. It was going to be a poor weapon in the dark and at the three-or four-yard range that the two men faced him from, but it was the only weapon that he had left.

He said, “It seems to me it’s the least you could do for a man you are considering killing. And by the way, I am not a Yankee. I’m from Colorado. I never had anything to do with the Civil War.”

Clell Martin exploded. He said, “Goddammit, don’t call it the Civil War, you Yankee sonofabitch. It was the War of the Confederacy. Any fool knows that.”

Longarm said placatingly, “All right, all right, all right. The War of the Confederacy. But will you still tell me about the soldiers here? Tell me why Virgil did what he did? I think I understand why you did what you did.”

Martin looked undecided. He glanced over at Virgil, then said, “Well, maybe I owe you that much for not back-shooting me, which is what most Yankee dogs would have done.”

For about three minutes, he sketched out the murders that had occurred over a two-month period. He ended by saying, “And now you are going to be the last. I am fixin’ to set this Indian loose on you. How do you want to do it, Running Wolf? Do you want to just skin him alive, or do you want to take him straight in the belly, Running Wolf? Remember, this is the long knife that put your daddy in jail. Matter of fact, I have it on mighty good authority that he is the one that done it. He’s done the same as admit it to me. He’s the marshal. He’s the worst of the long knives. In fact, he may have already kilt your daddy.”

By now, Longarm had worked the derringer up so that he had it concealed in the palm of his right hand. At the words from Clell Martin about killing his daddy, Virgil Castle began a low growl in his throat. His head came down and his arms went out from his sides. The skinning knife was in his right hand. He began making animal noises.

Clell Martin said, “Go get him, Indian. Go get him, Running Wolf, he’s yours.”

Longarm had his back pressed up against a boulder. He didn’t want to take the rush of the young man with no room to give, so as Virgil Castle started toward him, he stepped forward, hoping to be able to catch the wildly swinging knife arm in his left hand. They came together a yard from where Longarm had been standing. Longarm missed his grab at the arm. He felt the knife slice into his left bicep. He didn’t know how deep he was cut. All he knew was that, regretfully, he had no choice. He had the derringer pressed right against the breastbone of the young man.

He pulled the trigger. There was a loud explosion and the young man slumped.

As quickly as he could, Longarm grabbed him under the arms despite his own wounded arm, holding him up as protection from the shot that Clell Martin fired from his Navy Colt. The shot took Virgil Castle in the back. It saved Longarm’s life. Longarm had his right arm stretched under the dead young man’s armpit. It was a long shot in the gloomy darkness, but he fired straight at Clell Martin. The .38 slug hit him in the chest.

For a second nothing happened except that Clell Martin got a surprised look on his face. Then the Colt fell from his fingers and dropped to the ground. For a moment, he just stood there and then, very slowly, he crumpled.

With a sigh, Longarm let the body of Virgil Castle slide to the ground. Before he did anything else, he searched the ground and quickly found his .44 revolver. The two-shot derringer was all used up.

Keeping the revolver pointed at Clell Martin, he went over to the old man. He stood over him. It was difficult to see in the dark so he nudged him with the toe of his boot. Martin didn’t move. Longarm reached down and felt his heart. His hand came away sticky with blood. He wiped it on the old man’s shirt. He was dead.

He got up and slowly moved around the top of the butte until he located his rifle. Holding it straight up, he fired three quick shots into the air. He paused, then fired three quick additional shots. It was the traditional close-on-me signal of the cavalry.

After that, he went over and slumped down on a rock next to the body of Clell Martin. He felt very drained and very sad. He could feel the blood from the knife slash trickling down his left arm. He didn’t think it was very bad. He flexed it a few times and it seemed to work all right. Apparently his muscles hadn’t been cut across, just sliced downward. It was, he thought, a shame, a damn shame. Eight men were dead. Eight men had died because of one man’s greed, one man’s confusion, and another man’s revengeful insanity. It was a sad commentary on the whole state of affairs.

While he waited for the soldiers to arrive to pick up the bodies, and to make his report to Captain Montrose, he sat and tried to think good thoughts about Mabelle Russell. Maybe he could even stick around long enough to pay her one more visit. Maybe they could even have another nice dinner together. Hell, it was something pleasant to think about—something other than the slaughter on top of a butte. He was not proud of what he’d done, but it had been what he’d had to do. He’d never been given any choice.

He sat there, studying the night, noting the lack of stars, waiting for the soldiers from the fort to arrive. Then he got up and walked partway down the butte, if for no other reason than to get away from the bodies of Clell Martin and Virgil Castle. Normally bodies didn’t bother him, but this time they did. He felt as if he had killed men who deserved help rather than killing. And he wished there had been something he could have done other than what he had been forced to.

He got out a cheroot and lit it, the flame of the match bursting bright in the dark night. The only good that he could see coming of the matter was that now he could go home. There was little doubt in his mind that the two, in some sort of strange partnership, had been the murderers of the six soldiers.

In reality, he couldn’t actually take credit for flushing them out. They had flushed themselves out. He supposed that they had begun firing at the fort out of frustration because the soldiers, out of fear, had quit frequenting the road to town at night. That meant, in the end, it had been the soldiers’ fear itself that had solved the mystery. The only thing he could be grateful for was that no one else had been killed in this last attack. The worst thing that could have happened would have been if Clell and Virgil had been able to restrain themselves for a time until the fear had worn off and the soldiers had fallen back into their pattern of nightly trips into town. Then the pair would have had targets aplenty.

But he supposed that you couldn’t expect patience from a man who thought he was an Indian and another who thought that Reconstruction was still going on. It was a sad state of affairs all around. He knew that the captain would thank him. He knew that Vernon Castle would curse him. He knew that the sheriff would probably file a written complaint against him. He knew that Vernon Castle, through his lawyer, would no doubt file a civil action against him. But in the end, it just came down to doing the job that the badge said you had to do. Nowhere in his rules of conduct was it specified that it was supposed to be fun or even pleasant. Nowhere was he guaranteed anything more than long hours, poor pay, and lonely work. Well, he decided, if in the end there were more people happy with your work than unhappy, then you’d done a good job. He reckoned, judging it that way, that his time in San Angelo had not been misspent.

Chapter 11

It was five days later and Longarm was sitting across the desk from Billy Vail in Billy’s office in Denver. Billy had just finished reading Longarm’s report and was glancing at it again.

Finally he threw it on the desk and said, “Hell, Custis. That may be the shortest damn report ever filed in the history of this office. There is a world of story behind a few of those statements you made in there.”

Longarm said, “Such as what?”

Billy picked the paper up again. “Well, just for openers, right here you start this thing out by saying that due to the greed of one individual, Vernon Castle, six troopers of the United States Cavalry stationed at Fort Concho, San Angelo, Texas, were mistakenly killed by a misguided ex-Confederate soldier and a simpleminded young man who had been convinced that he was an Indian. What greed? What greed, Custis, are you talking about?”

Longarm shifted uncomfortably in his chair. He said, “I didn’t really want to put it in an official report, Billy, because it sounds so damn silly. I mean, you take the consequences that came about because of what Vernon Castle had in his mind and what he was trying to do, well, it’s a damn shame. I hated to put it down.”

“Well, you can just damn well tell me and let me be the judge of whether you put it down or not.”

Longarm said “Well, Vernon Castle thought that there was a spring that was very near the surface right under Fort Concho. He’d got hold of a dowser—you know, a water witch.”

Billy Vail said, “You mean one of them kind that goes around with a willow stick and when the water pulls at it, it pulls toward the ground?”

Longarm nodded. “Exactly.”

Billy Vail said, “Well, you know, I’ve heard of that working.”

Longarm said, “And I’ve heard of it not working also. But the point of it is that this dowser, the water witch that Vernon Castle had brought in to try to find some water near the surface in that dry-as-a-bone part of the country, had got onto what he claimed was an underground stream. He followed it straight through Fort Concho. He said it came to no more than five or six feet below the surface there, and said that it could be dug up in one afternoon except that the soldiers had a camp there. They had a fort there. It was government land, and that was what caused Vernon Castle to set into doing what he did.”

“You mean, trying to get that garrison moved?”

“That’s right. So you see how silly that would have looked in an official report. A rancher tries to get an army garrison moved because he believes there is water under the fort. I’m not going to write that. Somebody is liable to find it ten years from now and wonder if maybe there wasn’t another crazy person involved in the case.”

Billy rubbed his face. “Why didn’t they just go to the commander of that fort, Captain—uh, what’s his name, Captain Montrose—and ask him if they could dig for water?”

Longarm sat back in his chair. “Hell, greed, Billy. Pure and simple greed. They didn’t want to share that water with anybody. If it had been found on government land, U.S. public land, then it would have belonged to everybody. The Castles wanted it for their cattle, their livestock.”

Billy Vail studied the report a moment more before pitching it back on his desk. “You don’t reckon the rest of the Castles were involved with the murder of those soldiers at the fort?”

Longarm shook his head. “No, I think that it was the damnedest unlucky coincidence that could have happened. I think that simpleminded Virgil, who halfway thought he was an Indian, had heard his daddy talking about the soldiers—and, of course, I’ll never know the truth in this—and he either worked it out in his own head or had some help from Clell Martin, and decided that the soldiers were the enemy and that the way to eliminate them was to kill them. He had access to all those rifles, and I’ve got it out of the rest of the family that he was indeed a very good shot.”

“You feel all right about letting Old Man Castle and those two boys go? I mean, you did have those charges filed against them for illegal cattle importation.”

Longarm smiled slightly. “Well, I was kind of on thin ice about that.”

Billy Vail gave a whoop. “Thin ice? Boy, that’s an understatement. Thin ice? Hell, it was ninety-five degrees. There wasn’t no ice at all. What do you mean firing off a telegram to a fellow officer, getting him to get a bench warrant from a federal judge sent down to San Angelo? Hell, you could have gotten all our asses in a crack. What were you thinking about?”

Longarm said, “I was thinking about five dead soldiers, six after a while. That’s what I was thinking about. I was thinking about how to unravel a knot when I couldn’t find a way. The only thing that I could think of to do was to put some pressure on the Castles and see what came out of the jar. That’s all I could figure out, Billy. I know, I probably exceeded my authority-“

“Exceeded your authority? Boy, you sure have a quaint way of putting things, Mr. Custis Long.”

Longarm sighed ruefully. It had taken a couple of days to clean the mess up. In the end, he had let Vernon Castle and his two sons go. They had gone willingly and they had certainly not been grateful. Even though Virgil had been simpleminded, he had been well loved by his family. Longarm could tell that Vernon Castle felt the loss keenly. The sheriff had been no friend of his at the end either. In fact, he had let Longarm know in no uncertain terms that he deeply resented the federal lawman and wished for any excuse to jail or to shoot him.

Only Captain Montrose and the soldiers had seemed grateful.

Billy Vail asked, “Was there a spring under the fort?”

Longarm shook his head. “I’ll be damned if I know, Billy. They hadn’t started digging by the time I left and I really don’t care. All I know is that I wanted the hell out of San Angelo, Texas.”

Billy Vail leaned back in his chair and cocked his head to one side. “Am I to understand that you found no diversion down there whatsoever? No female companionship to make the long hours and days pass faster?”

Longarm said nonchalantly, “Wherever would you have gotten an idea like that, Marshal Vail? I was on the job twenty-four hours a day. You sent me down there to do a job and that’s all I did.”

“Bullshit.”

Longarm stood up. “I can’t add a thing to it. The best I can figure, Clell Martin thought that it was still Reconstruction, and one day he took it into his head, either him or that simpleminded kid. They teamed up and decided to start killing soldiers. Clell convinced Virgil that he was an Indian and that his name was Running Wolf, or it might have been vice versa, it’s hard to tell about crazy people. They both truly believed in what they were doing.”

“How’s your arm?”

Longarm shrugged. “It will work fine for whatever light duty I am going to get around here for a while.”

Billy Vail gave him a big grin. He said, “Well … we’ll just have to see what comes up.”

Longarm pointed a finger at him. “Billy, you better not be sending me off any time soon. I’ve got business to do around here. I just put in two of the hardest weeks of my life, and I’ve got some easy time coming and I’ve got plans to make good use of it.”

Billy Vail cackled. “By the way, the widow Shirley Dunn has come around a few times asking about you.”

Longarm brightened. “She has?”

“Yeah, she has. But I’m gonna give you a piece of advice, Mr. Fast and Loose. That lady ain’t gonna give you no milk unless you buy the cow. If I ever saw a marrying woman, that is one.”

Longarm walked over to the door, took his hat off, and carefully brushed the brim before he set it back on his head.

He said in an offhanded voice, “Billy, have you ever spent a few nights in a whorehouse having drinks and dinner and, well … let’s just call it dessert, and it didn’t cost you a dime?”

“No, and you haven’t either.”

Longarm nodded and put his hand on the doorknob. He said, “Billy, there are some things in Heaven and Hell that you don’t know about yet.”

“I know one thing. Sometimes the truth ain’t in you. Now go on and get out of here. Ten minutes with you is long enough for anybody.”

Longarm opened the door and started out, and then he paused. He looked back at his boss and said, “Billy, I didn’t like this one. I didn’t like it at all. I had an old man who thought he was still fighting the Civil War. I had a simpleminded kid who thought he was a Comanche Indian fighting the long knives. And I had to kill them both. The wrong people got killed, Billy.”

His boss said, “Are you telling me that you think that Old Man Castle and his sons knew?”

Longarm nodded. “I finally got it out of Glenn that they had found some spent cartridges from one of the Sharps rifles and that they had found some dust and dirt on one of them in the rack where they would normally be kept cleaned. They knew, all right.”

Billy Vail said, “Then why didn’t you hold them as accessories?”

Longarm shook his head. “Billy, it wouldn’t have done any good. It would have been local jurisdiction and they would have never convicted a Castle. Not in that county. Not in San Angelo. Besides, I figure that the townspeople and the Castles all deserve each other anyway.”

Billy Vail said, “Probably you’re right. Go on and get a drink and forget about it. You might have to forget about the widow Shirley Dunn too.” He cackled.

Longarm said, “We’ll see about that.” He shut the door behind him and walked off through the outer office toward the hall, his mind finally turning to other things.

Only one thing kept bothering him, and would not go away no matter how hard he tried to look forward to the challenge of the Widow Dunn. He had finally succeeded in locating the missing horses of the dead soldiers. Other than the one Todd had run across and taken home, Longarm had found the five others on Vernon Castle’s range. Now that in itself wasn’t unexpected considering how much land Vernon Castle owned. But that didn’t explain who had unsaddled and taken the bridles off the horses and penned them in a small corral at the very southern edge of the Castle property. It also didn’t explain who had brought feed to the animals and who had decorated the horses with paint and feathers in the Comanche custom. Maybe Vernon Castle hadn’t seen the horses himself, and maybe neither of his other sons had run across the little horse trap, but he was damned if he’d believe that such a strange circumstance had escaped all of Castle’s line riders and that Castle hadn’t been told about it.

Yes, he was convinced that Vernon Castle had known all along, had maybe known since the first soldier had been killed. And had done nothing about it, had not even taken steps to prevent it from happening again by privately locking his crazy son away somehow. But Longarm had not pursued the matter. It would have been impossible to prove. The last words he’d said to Vernon Castle had been: “Mister Castle, you are just as guilty of murder as Virgil. Maybe more so. And one of these days I’m going to have the pleasure of proving that. But for the time being you can just spend your time, until that time, walking as thin a line as you can. And you better keep looking over your shoulder, because you never know when I might be back here coming hard.”

It had been all he could do. It had left him unsatisfied, but there had been no help for it. The evidence was too flimsy.

But that was past, and he stepped out into the Denver sunshine with a determination to doing something about another unsatisfied feeling he had—one that had been caused by Mrs. Shirley Dunn.