Longarm and the Whiskey Woman

But his biggest fear was about the kind of man he reckoned Mark to be. If there came a confrontation between them, Longarm doubted that it would be settled with words, and if he had to kill Mark Colton, he was fairly certain that would put an end to his investigation into the illegal whiskey business. The best he could hope to do was somehow stay out of the way of the man and his wrath. Mark had made it clear that he didn't care much for Longarm, that he was suspicious, that he was on the prod. Longarm had to admit to himself that the man had good instincts. He was suspicious for good reason.

That night, Sally sat across the table from him at supper and never glanced his way. He could see and sense Mark watching the two of them. He wished for a change that she would look at him. This sudden reversal of habit had to tell Mark something.

He tried to carry it off as best as he could by talking to Asa about the whiskey business and about how much he could cut the strong, raw whiskey and still make a decent corn bourbon. It was Asa's belief that he could take the distilled liquor and turn it into twice as much. The old man, however, was curious as to just how Longarm was going to get around the federal whiskey stamps. Longarm just tried to look wise and pretend that he had a way. He said, "A lot of empty whiskey bottles in Arizona, Mr. Colton. You'd be surprised how many saloon owners I know."

Colton chuckled. He said, "Well, Mr. Long, it might surprise you that I wouldn't be surprised that you would know a good many saloon owners. You look like a man who could be found in one, every now and then."

After supper, Longarm played checkers with the man for a couple of hours, finding him a surprisingly good player. They were playing for a dollar a game, and the old man had managed to win fourteen dollars off Longarm. Mr. Colton said, "Aw, shucks. You're just lettin' me win so I'll sell you some whiskey. I've already told you I'll sell you the whiskey. You don't just got to give up." Then he giggled like it was all a good joke.

Longarm had gone to his cabin about nine o'clock, wishing that Frank Carson would hurry back. For a couple of hours, he did nothing more than think about the situation, smoke cigarillos, and drink a little of the snake-killer whiskey. He didn't believe he had ever seen a quart jar of whiskey that was so hard to empty in all his life. It had been sitting on the cabin table for three days and three nights, and even with a little help from Frank Carson, it was still not even two-thirds empty.

He finally turned in at about eleven o'clock, but didn't sleep with his usual deep pleasure. The situation he was in kept turning over and over in his mind with a detail popping up here or another detail popping up there. All in all, it was more than one man's mind could handle at a time.

Then, some few hours later, he came awake with the knowledge that the door had been opened. He was too groggy and not quick enough to see who it was before he heard the door being softly closed. Without seeming to move, he slipped his hand under his pillow and grasped the butt of his revolver. By then, his eyes had adjusted, and he saw a small, slim figure coming to his bedside. He saw that it was Sally, and he let go of the handle of his gun. She was standing there, not quite a foot in front of him in some kind of a white robe. She whispered, "Honey, you awake? Honey. I'm here."

He whispered, "Sally, what in hell are you doing? You're going to get us both killed."

She was already taking off her robe. He could see clearly enough now that the breath caught in his throat at the sight of her white beauty. The black thatch stood out even more vividly against her light skin and the rosettes of the nipples of her breasts were clearly distinct. With a soft rustle, she let the robe fall to the floor and then she was crawling into the bed with him. Before he could speak again, she had put her arms around his head and pulled his face to hers, kissing him passionately. He could not stop his hands from roaming over her body, slipping down between her legs, coming up to the soft, warm vagina. His finger went into her, almost as if it had a mind of its own. He felt her shiver and gasp and the passion of her kisses increased. She pulled her head away from his only long enough to whisper flirtingly in his ear, "I couldn't wait no longer. I was plum on fire."

As best as he could, he said, "Sally, honey, Mark is suspicious of me as it is. He's likely to have followed you."

She said, "I don't care. I done chose you. I want you."

"Sally, this can't be," he said.

"You're like a gift that got sent to me. You can't believe how hungry I've been, and there ain't nobody around here. It's so seldom for me. They hold me down. Daddy don't think anybody's good enough for me, and I get to hurting. I need it. I've got to have it."

With a sigh, Longarm resigned himself to the inevitable. He couldn't much blame her, because he had cut her off short that afternoon. He knew how that felt, to get up a good head of steam and then have the train jump the tracks. He didn't blame her. He started to kiss her with the same fever that she had been kissing him. He pulled the covers back so that he could see her clearly. He began kissing her on the throat and then began working his way down, taking one breast into his mouth and then the other. He was down to her softly rounded little belly when the door suddenly came open with a crash. Longarm jumped and looked.

There, standing in the doorway with the night sky behind him, was Mark Colton.

He had a shotgun in his hand and that shotgun was pointed straight at the bed. Longarm could see another man behind him, also with a shotgun. He couldn't tell who it was, but he figured it was Mark's brother, John.

Mark Colton said, cold rage in his voice, "Sally, get your ass out of that bed! Get your clothes on and get on out of here!"

Sally sat up. She said, "Mark, you get your ass out of here! This ain't none of your affair. Now, both of you-all get out!"

Colton said, "Sally, this is a double-barreled, double-triggered shotgun full of double-ought buckshot. I'm about to pull both triggers at the same time. You don't want to be in that bed."

Longarm had the revolver out of sight. He had slipped it down under the covers so that he could have actually fired at Colton without the man ever knowing that he held a gun, but he held his fire. He would give it a half a moment to make certain Colton wasn't going to shoot. Maybe they could talk.

He said to Sally, "Honey, you'd better do what he says. He's as mad as hell and he's liable to do anything."

She said, "I don't care what he says or what he does. I done chose you. It ain't none of his affair, and he knows it. John, you better get him out of here, or I'm going to tell Daddy."

From behind Mark, Longarm could hear the other brother say, "Sally, it would be best if you got up and got dressed and went on in the house. We're going to go in and see Daddy. In fact, you wake him up and tell him to come on in the kitchen. We'll talk this out."

Sally said, "Well, Mark had better not shoot him, because he's the one I chose. If he does, I'll cut his throat one dark night."

"Mark ain't gonna shoot no one, but we are going to go in and talk to Daddy."

She turned and looked back at Longarm. He stared back at her wonderingly. She said, "Now, don't you be a-feared. That big bully Mark ain't gonna do nothing. Daddy would have his hide if he shot you here in a bed that Daddy had given you to sleep in."

Longarm said, "Well, that's damned hospitable of Daddy. I just hope Mark understands the rules."

Mark said in an outraged voice, "Dammit, I ain't gonna wait much longer. Get out of that bed, Sally."

She said, "I'm naked. You ain't supposed to see me when I'm naked. You're my brother. You get out of that door and then I'll get dressed."

Mark said, "Yeah, and that son of a bitch will have a gun in his hand if I back out the door."

Longarm said quietly, "Mark, I've already got a gun in my hand under the cover. Would you like me to shoot you square in the chest to prove it?"

"You be a-lyin'."

For answer, Longarm cocked the revolver. In the quiet of the night, it made a deadly sound as the hammer came back into a firing position.

"Look there, Sally. He's holding a gun on me," said Mark.

"Serves you right, bustin' in on us like this. Now, you get on out of here and shut that door, and I'll get dressed."

From behind, John said, "Step back, Mark, and pull the door to. We've got to talk this over with Daddy. This ain't your business to decide."

Longarm said, "Don't you reckon it's a little bit of Sally's business to decide, too?"

Mark said, "Hell, she ain't nothing but a damned girl." But he stepped back, pulling the door half closed.

Longarm said to Sally, "Honey, you better get your robe on and go on back in the house. Let's get a chance to talk to your daddy about this. All right?"

She gave him a quick kiss and then slipped out of the bed and put on her robe. In another instant, she had flitted out the door. As she went out, Mark stepped back through. Longarm came out from under the covers with his revolver. He said to the angry brother, "I've got to get dressed, too, Mark, and I don't particularly care for you watching me, either. Now, you just step back unless you want to play 'Let's both get killed.' I can shoot you dead before you can pull the triggers on that shotgun, I promise you. Now, get on out of here and I'll get dressed and be out there in three or four minutes."

The brother's voice was furious. He said, "All right, damn you, you son of a bitch. We're going to get this matter settled."

"Just get the hell out of here!"

Once again, Mark backed out through the door, pulling it to behind him. He yelled, "But I'll be waiting right out here, and there ain't no other way for you to go."

With a sigh, Longarm got up out of bed and began pulling on his jeans, shirt, and boots. The whole mess just seemed to get more and more and more complicated.

CHAPTER 8

They were all seated at the kitchen table when Longarm arrived. With the exception of old man Colton, they were all dressed, even Sally. Longarm wondered how she had managed to get into her clothes so quickly. He reckoned, though, looking at her and looking at the shape of her breasts underneath the thin dress, she hadn't bothered much with underwear.

The old man was wearing a long, woolen nightshirt. Even at such a quick moment, he had somehow managed to get a cut of tobacco stuffed into his jaw and was spitting into a tin can as Longarm walked into the kitchen. Longarm wondered if maybe he didn't sleep with a cud in his mouth.

Except for Sally, they all stared at him as he walked into the kitchen and took a chair just to Asa Colton's right. He said, with no trace of sarcasm, "Good morning, everybody. We're up a little early, aren't we?"

Asa Colton spat again and said, "Now, sir. I want to get to the bottom of this business and see what it's all about."

Mark jerked his thumb at Longarm. He said, "Daddy, it ain't about nothing. It's plain and simple. We caught this son of a bitch in bed with Sally. The son of a bitch was fixing to do things to her. She was nekkid and so was he."

The old man chewed slowly for a moment. He said, "You done told me that. Now, I want to hear how it came about." He turned his head and looked over at Longarm. "What's your version of the situation, young fellow?"

Longarm shook his head, keeping his eyes carefully off of Sally. He said, "I've got nothing to say, Mr. Colton, except your sons, at least this one..." and he jerked his thumb equally as viciously at Mark, "... busted into a place I was given to sleep in as a guest. Busted in with that shotgun that he's holding so lovingly in his hands. No, I've got nothing to say."

Mark half rose. "Well, I've got a bunch to say, and I'd like to do my talkin' with this!" He picked up the shotgun from where it rested on the table and slipped his finger inside the trigger guard. He said, "The son of a bitch was with my baby sister. What are we gonna do about it, Pa?"

Asa Colton held up his hand. "We ain't gonna do nothing in this here kitchen. You let that scattergun get loose in here, and me and you and everybody else will have Rebecca down on us. You just set yourself back down in that chair."

Mark put the shotgun down and said insistently, "Hell, Daddy, that fancy man from over at Russellville came over here and just put his hands on Sally and you had him taken out in the woods and shot. This son of a bitch was in bed with her, both of them nekkid."

Asa turned to Longarm. "That right, son?"

Longarm was halfway curious as to why the old man didn't ask Sally. He wasn't going to admit to anything, especially when it related to a lady's honor. These people didn't seem to understand that. "I'm going to tell you the same thing as before, Mr. Colton, and that is that I've got nothing to say on the matter other than I don't think it's very hospitable for someone to break into somebody's sleeping quarters with a shotgun at full cock."

From down the table, Mark shouted, "That's a damned lie. I never had that gun cocked, and you know it, but you damned sure had your revolver cocked under the covers because I heard it."

Longarm looked coolly down the table at Mark. "You don't know what I had under those covers, and you don't know whether it was cocked or not. Just sit down, little boy, and shut up before I come down there and fix it so you don't eat so good tomorrow."

Mark sputtered, he was so angry. He pointed his finger at Longarm. He said, "Listen to him, Daddy. Now he's insulting your very own sons."

A smile came over Asa's face. He said, "Sons? I ain't heard him say a word about John. Seems to me he was talking to you."

It was at that moment that Sally chose to speak up. She said, "Daddy ..." She reached out and tugged at his nightshirt sleeve. "Daddy, Mark ain't got nothing to do with this." She nodded her head at Longarm. "I choose this one. I want this one."

The old man looked at her for a moment and then his gaze came slowly back to Longarm. He said, "Him?"

"Yes, Daddy. He's the best-lookin' thing I've ever seen."

Mark sent up a howl, but Asa Colton raised his hand. He said, "Shut up, Mark, for the last time."

Then he turned back to Longarm and sat intently as if he was looking for something that Sally was seeing that he wasn't. He said, "You want to marry this one?"

"Yes."

Longarm felt a hollow feeling inside. A flame of fear rose inside him as sharply as he had ever felt. He said, "Marry? When did we ever start talking about marrying?"

The old man said slowly, looking at Longarm, "Well, son, I don't know how it is where you come from, but when a stranger comes in and goes to beddin' down with a man's daughter, there'd better be a marriage, or there's gonna be a funeral. You understand what I mean by all that?"

Longarm swallowed. For once, he was totally at a loss for words. He just stared at the old man and then at Sally.

Asa Colton said, "Now, daughter, you sure? Marrying is not the same as bundling. You can bundle and then not be there the next day, but you marry, you've got to be there the next day. You want to wash his shirts and fix his meals and have his babies for the rest of your life? That's what marrying means, daughter."

She said stubbornly, "I've seen a bunch of them, and he's the first one I wanted. Daddy, I choose him. I told him the first time I got my hands on him that I chose him."

Longarm could remember her saying that before. He could also remember wondering exactly what she meant by it. Now he knew. It gave him a deep, sinking feeling inside.

The old man scratched his head. "Well, it looks like we're gonna have a weddin'." He looked down the table at John. He said, "Son, how long will it take to get a preacher here?"

John shrugged. "I can send a man later on in the day, but it kind of depends on whether or not you want the rest of the kinfolk to get here. You know, we've got this big shipment, and we ain't got but a couple more days before that train's due at the siding."

Asa nodded. He looked at Sally. He said, "Well, can you wait three days, girl?"

Sally said, looking a little unhappy, "I can wait if we can bundle."

Asa shook his head. He said, "No, if y'all are betrothed, then there can't be no more bundlin' until the preacher says the words over you. No, ma'am, I can't have that."

Longarm felt like a man in a deep, dark prison seeing the first glimmer of light. He said, "That's only fitting, Sally. You've got to do these things right, the way your daddy says. Yes sir, I give you my word, Mr. Colton. We won't do no more bundling until after the wedding."

Colton nodded slowly. He said, "Well, son, I knowed from the first time I laid my eyes on you that you were a gentleman and that you had some good blood in you. I reckon I'll trust my daughter to you."

A thought struck Longarm. "You realize, Mr. Colton, that I live in Arizona and that your daughter will have to go with me?"

He felt certain that the idea would cast a serious pause over the idea of marriage. But Mr. Colton said, "It's only fittin'. In the Bible, it says that a woman's supposed to follow her man. If you're a-takin' that whiskey back to Arizona, I reckon that Sally'll be goin' with ya after the words get said."

Longarm said, "But are we going to get that whiskey loaded and ready to go before the wedding?"

John said, "I don't see why we don't have the wedding right then. They can get married and get on the train right there."

Longarm, desperate for a way out, said, "But, Mr. Colton, I won't have the money. What if Frank Carson doesn't get back here on time with the money?"

Mr. Colton snorted. He said, "Son, you'll be family then. It won't make no difference about the money."

It had to make a difference about the money. Money had to change hands. Longarm said, "Oh, no, sir. I've got to pay for that whiskey. That deal was struck before the marriage. No, sir. I cannot take your daughter's hand in marriage and twenty-five hundred dollars' worth of whiskey at the same time. No, sir, I can't do that."

John said, "Why don't you let it be a wedding present from the whole family? That wouldn't be too much."

The old man looked at Longarm. He said, "There. That's a bargain for you. You get a pretty little girl and two thousand gallons of whiskey. A man can't get a better deal than that, can he?"

Longarm could feel his heart sink as he sought for a way out. No man with a lick of sense would turn down such an offer. He said, "Mr. Colton, I've got a sense of honor about these things, sir. A business deal is a business deal."

The old man shrugged his shoulders. He said, "Aw, shucks. We ain't got to worry about it right now. Hell, it's three o'clock in the morning, and here we are a-sittin' and talkin' about a weddin' and whiskey and all that sort of thing and there ain't no call for it. Mark, you put that damned shotgun up, and if you ever point it at your sister's betrothed again, it's liable to be you gets taken out into the woods and laid bare with a pissellum club, so you just keep that temper of yours down. I'm the one watches out for my children, not you."

Then he turned to Longarm and put out his hand. He said, "I'm mighty obliged to have you for a son-in-law. You'll make a good one."

Longarm looked over at Sally. She was smiling contentedly. She said, whispering to him, "I can wait, but it's going to be hard."

Longarm just nodded weakly. There was not another word he could say.

They all stood up. The old man said, looking first at Sally and then at Longarm, "Remember now, no bundlin'. We'll get this whiskey shipped, then get y'all married, and then y'all can go on out to Arizona. How does that sound?"

Sally was radiant. She said, "Oh, Daddy. Oh, Daddy. I'm just thrilled."

Longarm said, "Sounds just fine to me."

"Then let's get on to bed. There's been enough of this foolishness."

Longarm went on back to the cabin and sat down in front of the bottle of whiskey and poured half a glassful and didn't even bother with the water. Instead, he took a straight jolt and let it burn all the way to his stomach and then let it extend all the way from his stomach down his legs and back to his scrotum. He could feel his privates shrivel and his ears burn, such was the power of the whiskey. He thought out loud, "I am in some serious kind of a trap. This is all Billy Vail's doing, and he is probably dying laughing right now. Marrying? Hell, I'll shoot my way out of here first. Marrying? She's as pretty a girl as I've ever seen, but I ain't marrying her."

He spent the rest of the night trying to unscramble the mess in his mind, but it was just one of those kinds of knots that wouldn't come unwound. Billy Vail had warned him to stay out of the backwoods of the Ozarks. There was danger in these mountains. There were ambushes everywhere. Billy hadn't told him what kind of danger there was and what kind of ambush to look out for. He'd walked straight into one, and it was just about as soft and sweet and juicy an ambush as he'd ever walked into. A man could get healed from a bullet wound, but he didn't reckon he'd ever recover from a marriage. And the hell of it was, now that the matter was out in the open and declared, he wasn't even allowed to have any more pie. That was a hell of an arrangement. A man got invited into the bakery and then told he couldn't have any more pie until such time as certain formalities were gone through. As far as Longarm was concerned, pie was pie, and the saying of words or whatever it was that they did, didn't change the flavor of the pie. Finally, in disgust, he toasted the sun's arrival with some more of the vile-tasting raw whiskey.

It was an awkward day. He went in to breakfast. Sally was there, letting off a kind of glow. She didn't speak to Longarm, but she kept her eyes steady on him, so strong and steady that it almost made his hands tremble as he tried to eat his eggs and grits and bacon. Somehow, several more women had managed to squeeze in at the breakfast table, and they seemed to be well up on all the details. From time to time, one would whisper to another and then they would all giggle and stare. He could feel himself redden whenever they did. John was cordial and a cousin named Samson that Longarm had never met but only nodded to was friendly. Only Mark had a glower on his face. The old man, as if Longarm were already part of the family, began talking about the making of whiskey as if Longarm were familiar with every step and could appreciate the fine art they were practicing.

Asa said, "Now, I don't hold much with morning drinking, but right afterwards we get through with this breakfast, I want you to come into my little office and I want you to drink some of this whiskey that we've had setting and aging for four years. I bet you're gonna get a surprise."

Longarm gave him a wan smile. He said, "Is this the kind of conversation that new sons-in-law have with their new daddies-in-law-to-be?"

Asa made a wheezing dry sound that Longarm took to be laughter. He said, "Well, now, young fellow. I can see that you're a young fellow that knows his way around the family. Yes sir, we might speak about how your prospects are going to be looking for you. I want to make sure that my little girl is well provided for."

Longarm said, "I've been able to take care of myself for all this time."

Rebecca, the mistress of the kitchen, suddenly spoke up. She said, "Daddy, maybe Mr. Long has some kinfolk that would like to come to the wedding. Wouldn't that be fittin' that we should try and get word to them?"

Longarm interrupted hastily. He said, "Oh, I haven't got no kin, just a couple of brothers, and they're back in Arizona. They couldn't get here in any time. No sir, I'm not as big on family as y'all are."

John called from down the table. "Sally will fix that! Ha!

Longarm gave him a weak smile. He said, "Oh, yes sir, that's what I'm really looking forward to is having kiddies. I always was a man who wanted children."

Rebecca said, "It will change your life, Mr. Long."

With a weak feeling in his stomach, Longarm said, "I don't doubt that."

The whiskey was surprisingly good. The old man was seated at a battered wooden desk in a little room not much bigger than a closet. He had several ledger books lying open in front of him, and Longarm was amazed to see the neat and precise columns of figures showing the gallons they had produced and the amounts they had received in return. Some of the figures stunned him. He had reckoned the family he was supposed to be marrying into was a lot better off than many of the people living in fine homes in big cities, but this little old man sitting in front of him in his overalls had steadily and quietly amassed a fortune. He said to Longarm, "Now, I ain't expecting you to take much interest in this here money because this here money was earned before you came in, but you ought to know that when I slip off this mortal coil, Sally will come into some little money. It might come in handy to her husband in his business."

Longarm said, "Mr. Colton, you're embarrassing me, sir. As far as I am concerned, Sally is a prize even if she didn't have a dress on her back. I wouldn't be a man who would be studying about her fetching money along with her."

Asa nodded. "I figured you were that kind of fellow. Well, what do you think of that there whiskey?"

Longarm held his glass up to the light. It was a mild amber color. It was still stronger and had a more whiskey taste than he was used to--by no stretch of the imagination could he call it smooth--but it was whiskey that had been aged and had taken on the color of the wood barrels it had been aged in.

He said, "Mr. Colton, you say this whiskey has only been laying down for four or five years?"

"That's a fact, young man."

Longarm shook his head and took another sip. He said, "Well, sir, I've got to tell you this here is prime drinking whiskey. This here is real sipping whiskey."

The old man looked down modestly. He said, "Well, we take pleasure and pride in what we give a man to drink. He buys his whiskey from us, and we intend that he doesn't get shorted. Of course, you understand that we only sell this stuff around here to our kinfolk and friends. That other stuff that we ship off, well, we don't know what them folks do with it, but it's their business. Once they've paid for it, it's their whiskey. We like to think that, locally, we put out some pretty good whiskey."

"I don't think you just have to think that, sir. I think you can pretty well be certain of it. It still packs a good wallop, I will say that, though."

Asa Colton nodded. "Folks around here like it that way. Now, you take your blended and bonded whiskeys that are eighty and ninety or one hundred proof, they're too mild for the folks around here. They don't feel they're getting their money's worth unless that first sip damn near knocks their tongue sideways in their mouth. Four drinks ought to bring a full-grown man into a cane-bottom chair. If it doesn't do it, then we ain't done our job."

Longarm smiled. He said, "Well, four big drinks of this and I reckon I'd want more under me than a cane-bottom chair. I reckon I'd want one made out of cement or something else as steady."

After an appropriate time of sitting around admiring the aged whiskey, Asa Colton got around to Longarm's prospects. Longarm had been expecting it, so he invented a two hundred thousand acre ranch near Tucson, Arizona, that was stocked with some cattle and some goats. He said, "But you must understand, Mr. Colton, I'm not much in the cattle business anymore and the timber business has about played out. There's too much timber out in California that's closer, and shipping costs were eating us alive cutting timber up in northern Arizona. That's what's brought me down here. I plan to be in the whiskey business. I do own a saloon in Tucson, and I plan to open several others. I've got ample funds to take care of your daughter. I reckon you'll understand if I don't give you an exact figure, but I've got the money to buy a lot of whiskey and to get it bottled properly."

Mr. Colton looked concerned. He said, "Now, son, I do want you to be concerned about that. You know there is a federal law about whiskey stamps. I want you to be right careful about them Treasury agents. We've got a couple here that we've turned into pets, but you might not have any out there that will turn out like that."

Longarm pulled a face. He said, "Aw, Mr. Colton, I ain't never seen a federal agent in that part of the country. It's rough country, and a federal man wouldn't dare show his face around there. They're all too scared, a bunch of cowards, anyway."

"Well, I don't think much of these two supposed to be putting us in jail, either." He gave a cackle.

Longarm said, "But I appreciate the advice, sir. And you can depend on me. I am going to be right careful about how I handle any Treasury agents I run into."

He walked back to his cabin feeling about four times the hypocrite, but he didn't see what else he could do. He had to play this string out and see if he couldn't make matters come out right in the end. He had resolved that, if he could, he would avoid bringing any trouble to the Coltons. The Treasury agents were another matter. He was going to have to work around it somehow, and he didn't know how, to where he could have Mr. Colton summon the two men. That's when he would show his hand. He was going to arrest them on the spot and take them back to Denver, Colorado, and shove them in Billy Vail's face and say, "Look, here the crooks are. You sent me down there into a bear trap. Now I've brought you the bear."

He really didn't feel like seeing anyone that day. He was embarrassed about the whole matter, and he certainly didn't want to see Sally and he certainly didn't want to see the old man and have to tell him more lies. The hell of it was, he had come to like the family, with the exception of Mark. They were good folks. They might not be as well-dressed or as well-mannered and their eyes might be set a little too close on their face, but they weren't harmful and they weren't vicious and he really didn't believe that they were criminals. When he pursued a man, he pursued that outlaw with a vengeance and with conviction that whatever he had to do to bring an end to that man's career of harming others was right and just. He didn't feel that way about the Coltons. He didn't know exactly how he was going to do it, but he was going to try to cut the bad ones out of the herd and leave the rest.

He got through the rest of the day by staying in the cabin and just showing up for meals. He spoke very little and kept his attention on his food. Sally kept her eyes on him and the old man made friendly conversation. It was a very embarrassing time. After lunch, John had suggested that he and Longarm go out and kick up some quail. "We could get a couple of dozen for supper. You ain't had good eating until you've seen how Rebecca stews them quail with rice. You talk about some good eating."

Longarm had begged off by saying that he was wearing riding boots and didn't feel like doing any walking.

John had said, "You ain't got that much walking to do, not with the dogs we've got. They'll have four or five coveys pointed out and spotted up within two hundred yards of the house. Besides that..." and he had given Mark a look, "... it'll put a shotgun in your hands in case you need one."

But he had still begged off, saying that he was tired from the night before and wanted a nap.

Supper hadn't been much better, but he managed to bring it off a little better than lunch. One of the women had began giggling about how quiet he was. She said, "He's scared already. Reckon what it'll be when the preacher gets in front of him. Reckon someone'll have to hold him up? Stand him up there and then work his jaw and tell him what words to say?"

The whole table had laughed and Longarm had turned crimson. He could feel the flush on his face, feel it burning all the way down to his feet.

The old man had cackled. He said, "Now, y'all leave my new son-in-law alone. A man's got a right to get a little fidgety when he sees that horse collar coming. Hell, if anybody knows how a mule feels, it's a married man. Gonna spend the rest of his life pulling a plow. Now, y'all just leave him alone."

Longarm had been grateful. He had slept that night in comparative peace. The problem was still not resolved, but at least no one came bursting through the door with a shotgun.

For a little while before he went to sleep, he had contemplated what it would be like to be married to Sally. He had an idea she'd make a perfect wife. He didn't think, however, she'd be so eager to marry him once she found out that he was a United States deputy marshal and spent about twenty-nine days out of every thirty away from home. He didn't think she'd be very interested in being married to a man who had three or four bullet-hole scars on his body as well as a couple of knife slashes. She also might not be very interested in being married to a man who liked women as well as he did and would expect him to be celibate all the time he was gone. No, he really wasn't husband material, any way you looked at it. It pained him that he was going to be hurting her and giving her disappointment. She obviously wanted a man, and she obviously loved to be with a man. He didn't know of too many women he had ever met who took such joy out of making love, and from the way she talked, it was something she seldom had a chance to engage in.

Well, he thought, that was the problem of being a member of a large clan like the Coltons. It would be very difficult for anyone in those mountains to be good enough for her. He figured most of the attraction he held for her was that he was not from the Ozarks, that he was from Arizona. He was different. He was a strange new face. He'd like to believe otherwise. He'd like to believe he was as handsome as she thought he was, but he knew it wasn't true.

To his great relief, Frank Carson rode in early the next afternoon. At least now, Longarm thought, there would be another strange face for the clan to occupy their minds with. He saw Carson come riding in through the window of the cabin. He saw him tie his horse up in front of the big house and then turn and walk toward the cabin. Longarm was glad of that. If he had gotten word accidentally or by mistake from Billy Vail about Longarm's true identity, he would have gone straight on into the big house and told the Coltons. But now he was walking straight toward the cabin with his saddlebags over his shoulders. Longarm could see a valise tied to the back of Carson's horse. It looked like Longarm's.

He opened the door and yelled at Carson before he could get very far from his horse, "You forgot my valise!"

Carson nodded and went back and untied the valise from the saddle and then came back, carrying the valise in one hand and his saddlebags over his shoulder. Longarm could read nothing from his expression.

As Carson was making his way, Longarm went to the table and got a quart of the four-year-old whiskey that the old man had given him. He poured them both out a drink and then sat down at the table. When Carson came in, Longarm said, "Where the hell have you been? I thought for certain that you'd taken my money and run."

But Carson had a serious look on his face. He didn't even pretend to smile. Instead, he shut the door behind him and then dropped Longarm's valise and his saddlebag at the end of Longarm's bed. He came over to the table, sat down, picked up his glass, drank off half of it, and then looked at it. He said, "I see you've managed to get yourself in good with the old man."

"How's that?"

"I was coming here nearly two years before he ever offered me any of this stuff. Mostly what I got was that pop-skull we've been getting."

"What are you looking so damned serious about?"

Carson studied his glass. He said, "You've got trouble. That's what I'm looking so serious about."

A chill went through Longarm. Billy Vail had fouled up. Somehow, he had let Carson know who Longarm really was. But he said with as much nonchalance as he could muster, "Oh, yeah? What kind of trouble I got? With you?"

Carson shook his head. He said, "No, not with me. If you had trouble with me, you'd already know it. I wouldn't be sitting here drinking with you."

The fear that he was exposed was growing larger and larger in Longarm's chest. Would anything go right with this damn job? He said, "Are you going to tell me what this trouble is?"

Carson looked over at him. "I want you to know that I had nothing to do with it. I don't know how it happened."

"What? Dammit!"

"I reckon Morton Colton ain't more than an hour behind me. I damned near killed my horse trying to get here in time to warn you."

Longarm sat up. His voice was a mixture of surprise and relief. "What? What do you mean, Morton Colton's about an hour behind you?"

"Exactly what I said. He braced me up in town and said he was coming out here with me."

"I thought you said you didn't know him."

"I told you that I wasn't supposed to know him, if you'll remember. You don't come into town and act like you know Morton Colton. That's about like announcing you're in the whiskey business, but I know him and he knows me. We don't socialize together or go to church together. But he knows you're here."

"How the hell could he know I'm here?"

Carson shook his head. "I don't know, but he does. Maybe somebody sent word in to him. Have you made an enemy out here?"

Mark Colton's face instantly flashed into Longarm's mind. "Yeah, you might be able to say that with no trouble."

"Anyway, he knows you're here, and he wanted to ride out here with me. I told him I didn't want to be seen with him and I wasn't mixing into any trouble between you two. My best advice to you is to forget all about buying any whiskey, saddle that horse of mine, and go on back to Little Rock. Leave the horse at the livery stable and get on the next train."

Longarm was starting to relax. Hell, it was just Morton Colton. He said, "No, I like it here. I think I'll stick around awhile. Besides, I am getting married in three or four days."

Carson blinked and blinked again and then stared at Longarm. "I thought you just told me you were getting married in three or four days."

"I did."

"Somebody in Arizona?"

"No. A very nice lady right here."

"There ain't nobody here that they would let you marry."

"Well, she more or less asked for me herself in front of the whole family."

Carson looked at his glass and then drank a part of it and then looked at the glass again. "This stuff must be making me drunk faster than I realize, because the next thing I know, you're going to tell me that you're going to be marrying Miss Sally and I'll know we're both drunk."

"Then I guess we're both drunk."

Frank Carson was silent for a moment. "I know you ain't kidding because that ain't something you'd josh about. It's just hard for me to believe that all of this has happened in the three days that I've been gone."

Longarm nodded his head slowly. "Well, it happened. They done invited me to marry her."

"I take it you said yes?"

Longarm gave a short bark of laughter. He said, "Would you have said no to a family that brings shotguns to the breakfast table?"

"I reckon not, and she is a most luscious piece of goods. Pardon me for talking so familiarly about your intended bride."

"That's all right, I don't mind you admiring her so long as you do it from afar."

Carson was silent for a moment. "Well, this does kind of mix up apples and oranges. Morton is coming here, and I don't reckon his intentions are peaceful. But now you're damn near going to be a member of the family and they don't allow feuding in the family. This could get right interesting. I can't imagine what old Asa is going to say or think or do."

Longarm said, "What do you think Morton is going to do? Seems to me he's the one to be concerned about."

Carson shook his head slowly. "I don't know. I do believe the old man will tell him he has to lay off of you, but whether he will or not is yet to be seen."

"What difference is it going to make to the old man if I'm going to marry his daughter? I thought you told me they didn't care for Morton anyway, period, no matter who was involved. You told me that my best invitation down here was that I was on the outs with Morton."

"That is true, but now you're coming down to the family name, and his last name is Colton and yours ain't. I don't know what's going to happen, I can't even make a prediction. If I's you, I'd forget all about it and get on that horse and get on out of here."

"I'm not so sure about that, Mr. Carson. I'm not so sure that's what you'd do."

Carson pulled a face. He said, "Well, at least one of us ought to do, or both of us, if we were in that situation. That's what a smart man would do. Of course, I ain't very smart."

Longarm sighed. This damned situation kept getting more snarled up. He said, "I reckon I'm not, either."

"Well, you ain't got much time to make up your mind."

"Oh, my mind's already made up. I just want to see how it plays out."

"You're going to wait, I take it?"

"Yeah, I was always one to have a great amount of curiosity. Besides that, I don't much care for Morton Colton. I doubt seriously that he'll stand up to me or anybody else. I read him for a coward."

Frank Carson took a moment to pour them both out some more whiskey. He said, "You might be making a mistake about that."

They talked on, mostly about the shipment of whiskey and how it would be handled. Longarm was just about to pour them out another drink when he saw motion flash past the window. Frank Carson saw it at the same time, and he got up and peered out. He said, "Well, there he is. He's dismounting and going into the house. You ain't going to have long to wonder what his intentions are or what the old man will let him do. Any instructions to me?"

Longarm gave him a half-smile. "Well, you might let me know if you got my money. So far, you've managed to talk about everything else but my twenty-five hundred dollars."

Carson gave him a surprised look. He said, "Oh, was I supposed to get you some money?"

Longarm sighed. He said, "Looks like it's going to be a double-killing day. I'm going to have to kill you for stealing money, and then I'm going to have to kill Morton Colton just for the hell of it."

Frank Carson turned and walked over to his saddlebags. He said, "Don't get in such a hurry. I'm not in the mood to get killed today." He unbuckled one of the pouches and took out a fat envelope. He walked over and pitched it on the table in front of Longarm. He said, "There, and if you count it, I'm going to take it as a personal insult."

Longarm looked inside at the fat bundle of fifty- and one-hundred-dollar notes. He closed the big envelope and put it back on the table. He said, "It looks close enough for government work. I guess I'll save your dignity for you."

Carson sat back down and pointed at the envelope. He said, "Would you make out a will now and put it in there that I'll get that money?"

Longarm said, "I believe you're rushing my death a little, wouldn't you say?"

Carson craned his head to look out the window. "Here comes John Colton. I reckon we're going to know something here in a little bit."

They both sat there, staring expectantly at the door. In a moment, it opened, and John Colton stood there. He said to Longarm, "Daddy wants you to come to the house. It looks like we've got trouble. Morton is here, and he's ranting and raving his head off."

Longarm said, "I don't want to come over and see Morton Colton in your daddy's house. You go tell Morton Colton that if he's got anything to say to me, he can say it out in the open where he can't bushwack me from a window or a door or from around the side of the building."

John shook his head. "He wouldn't dare do that. Daddy would string him up in a tree."

"I don't want to give him a chance."

John stood, holding the knob of the cabin door, worrying it with his hand. He had a perplexed look on his face. He said, "What am I supposed to go back and tell Daddy?"

"My problem ain't with your daddy. My situation is with your cousin, or whatever he is-"

"He's our cousin."

"All right, my trouble is with our cousin, and I think it ought to stay between him and me."

John looked down at the floor. He said, "That ain't the way it works around here, exactly."

"You mean you ain't got no say in the matter?"

"Yes, sir. You come over and Daddy will tell you both how he wants you to do."

"Your daddy's going to say he wants us to shake hands and be friends."

"No, no, no. Daddy knows better than that. He don't trust Morton any farther than he could sling a bull. No, sir. He just wants to hear both sides of it."

Longarm said, "I caught the son of a bitch cheating in a poker game, and I shoved a pistol in his face. That's my side of it. I don't know what his side of it is, and I don't care."

John said, "You won't come over?"

"I'll walk out in front as soon as Morton Colton comes out in front and we can talk right there."

Frank Carson spoke up. He said, "Mr. Long, this ain't none of my business, but if I's you, I'd go on over and hear what the old man has to say. Could be that the matter could be resolved with no further trouble."

John said, "See. That's what I've been trying to tell you. Daddy is trying to head off any trouble."

Longarm said with disgust in his voice, "Yeah, I know Mr. Colton is trying to do for the best, but you can't turn sour milk fresh once it's turned sour. Morton Colton is sour milk. But I'll go with you. If that son of a bitch is waiting to bushwack me, there's going to be a hell of a lot of lead flying and some innocent people could get hurt."

John shook his head. "Daddy won't let that happen."

Longarm gave Carson a significant look. He said, "Daddy might not be able to stop it. Morton Colton don't strike me as the kind of man who listens to anybody but himself."

Frank Carson said, "I'm going to be right behind you, Mr. Long, so if any bushwhacking happens, I'll be able to see it at the same time as you, and there will be a lot of lead flying."

Longarm cocked his head and looked at Carson. He said, "You don't know me that well, Mr. Carson. It could get a little dangerous out there."

"Oh, I like that sort of thing. Let's go."

Longarm shrugged and started for the door, loosening his revolver in the holster as he did.

CHAPTER 9

They met in the kitchen. The old man and John and Mark were seated at the table. Morton Colton was standing with his back against the far wall. He was dressed much as he had been when Longarm had first seen him. He was wearing a white ruffled shirt with a black vest and the plantation broad-brimmed hat. Longarm noticed that he wore a silver buckle shaped like a concho. His boots were black and shiny, with silver tips.

As Longarm entered the kitchen, Morton took two steps forward, his eyes dark and angry. He had his hand a scant inch from the butt of the revolver he wore in a black, tooled-leather holster. Longarm stopped in the middle of the room and stared at Colton. John went around him and took his seat at the table. Longarm glanced back. Carson had stopped short of the door. He nodded at Longarm as if to say, I'm here but I don't want to intrude.

The old man said, "Mr. Long, I'm much obliged at you seeing your way clear of coming over here. I know there be bad blood between you two, and we need to get it cleared up."

Longarm said, "There's no bad blood between us, Mr. Colton. That son of a bitch standing over there next to the wall got caught cheating at a poker game, and he didn't much like what I done to him."

Asa Colton said, "I think we've got to forget all about that. Let it be. I'm trying to make some peace here."

Morton Colton suddenly stepped forward. "There ain't gonna be peace except I get a piece of that son of a bitch standing there. That no-good bastard shoved a gun in my face." Now, he turned and talked directly to Longarm. "You thought you'd seen the last of me, you cowardly bastard. You ran off up here in the hills and hid. You didn't know I'd find you, did you?"

Longarm said carelessly, "No, I figured you'd find me. I just didn't figure you'd have the guts to come looking for me."

Morton Colton's face went red with rage. He was almost sputtering when he said, "You son of a bitch! You and me's gonna get this settled."

Longarm said, "You got that right, mister. I ain't about to hang around and give you a chance to back-shoot me."

Asa Colton broke in. He said, "Boys, boys, boys. Stop this. We don't want no feuding or no trouble here. You're marrying into the family, Mr. Long."

Longarm said, "I ain't marrying into that son of a bitch's family." He pointed at Morton Colton. "I wouldn't let my dog know that son of a bitch's dog."

Mark Colton broke in. He said, "Daddy, ain't it just like I said it would be? I told you he wouldn't make no peace. I told you this fellow ain't fit for us. Ain't that what I told you?"

Asa Colton said, "Shut up, Mark. You're not helping this matter any. You just keep it shut." He turned to Morton. He said, "You know, you ain't even supposed to be here. You're not welcome here. We made a deal a long time ago that if you stayed clear, you'd get your cut. And yet you come riding in here, creating a lot of trouble. We don't want no trouble around here. This is a happy time for us. Now, you get back on your horse and you ride on out of here."

Colton stabbed out his finger at Longarm. He said, "I came to kill this son of a bitch, and I aim to do it."

Longarm said, "Well, let's just step out in front and see how well you do."

Mr. Colton said, "Boys, we can't have no shooting. You'll scare the women. They're all huddled back there in a room somewhere, scared to death. Is this any way for you to act, Mr. Long, right before you get married?"

Longarm said, "Mr. Colton, with all respect, I'd feel mighty skittish with this son of a bitch around. I'd rather get this situation settled here and now."

The old man sighed. He said, "I was afraid it would come to that." He looked at Morton Colton. "Is this how you have to have it?"

"You damn right this is how I've got to have it. And don't be telling me I can't come around my own kin anymore. I'll go where I damn well please."

Longarm said, "I'm going outside. I'll be standing there waiting. You come out when you have a mind. I've got a friend that's going to stay inside and make damn sure you don't shoot out from behind a door or a window. Understand?"

Colton looked at him with hate in his eyes. He said, "You get yourself out there in the clear. We'll see who comes back in here for a drink of whiskey."

Mark Colton stood up. He looked at Longarm and said with a smile on his face, "I think you're fixing to get a surprise, Mr. Big Britches. Maybe after this, my little sister will see just what you're made of. I'll bet you cut and run."

Longarm looked at him. "Are you offering me a bet? How about a hundred bucks?"

Mark Colton twisted his mouth. He said, "You ain't got a hundred dollars, and even if you did, I can take it off your dead body. I don't need to bet you."

Longarm smiled. He said, "That's fine with me." He looked at Morton Colton and said, "I'll be out there, Waiting." Then he turned and walked past Frank Carson, giving him a wink as he did. He knew Carson had heard him when he said that he had a friend who would be staying inside to watch and make sure no one fired out any windows.

As he walked through the house and out the front door, he thought he caught a glimpse of Sally peering in from the other room, but it was so quick and the light was so dim, he couldn't be sure. He walked across the porch and down the steps, flexing his right hand to loosen his fingers. He really didn't know how good Morton Colton was, but then there had been many other occasions when he hadn't known how good his adversary was. When he had put on the badge, he had taken on the task of dealing with dangerous people. It was all part of the job, as far as he was concerned.

He stood out in the bright sunlight, waiting. The house was about fifteen or twenty feet to his left. He was almost square in the middle of the yard. When Morton Colton came out, he would have to come down the steps and then turn to his left to put some distance between them. Longarm was curious as to how much distance the man would want. A longer distance between them would indicate that Morton Colton was either slow with the gun or that he was a very good shot. If he took a position within ten feet, it would mean that he was fast, but not a particularly good shot. Longarm didn't care either way, because he was both fast and a good shot. He also had an advantage that most men didn't: he shot as he pulled. There was never any hesitation. Most men would hesitate that tenth of a second too long. He had another advantage: the bullet went where he was looking. He never aimed. He made one smooth draw, cocking the revolver as he did, and firing where he was looking. His target was his adversary's chest.

Time was passing, and Longarm was starting to wonder. He got out a cigarillo and lit a match with the nail of his thumb. He had smoked down perhaps a half inch when the door finally opened and Morton Colton stood there. He stared at Longarm.

Longarm said, "You coming or not? I'm about to get a sunburn standing out here."

Colton started across the porch. He said, "You son of a bitch. You'll get yours soon enough."

Longarm said, "Keep that hand away from the butt of your revolver unless you want it to happen now. If I even think you're reaching for your weapon, you are a dead man."

Morton Colton came down the steps. "You talk big now. Let's wait and see."

Longarm said, "It ain't too late, Mr. Morton Colton. You can save your life if you get on your horse and ride out of here right now. This is the only warning I'm going to give you.

Colton kept walking until about twenty feet separated him and Longarm. He turned. He said, "You see how fast I'm running, don't you?"

Out the corner of his eye, Longarm could see John and the old man at the door. He wondered where Mark was. He'd been almost certain that Mark would be a spectator in hopes of seeing him shot down. But he could not keep his attention on the door for more than a second. Colton was taunting him.

Longarm said, "You gonna keep on talking, Colton, or are you going to do something with that gun?"

"You seem in a big hurry to get to hell. You better get on your knees and commence praying."

"Colton, I don't think you-"

His words were suddenly cut off by a scream coming from his immediate left. He cut his head half-way around and saw a figure at the corner of the house leveling a shotgun. The scream had come from one of the windows and he had no doubt that it had come from Sally. The instant he saw the figure, Longarm recognized it as Mark. He let himself go limp and fall. He was drawing his revolver as he went down. He heard the boom of the shotgun. It sounded like it was from far away. He felt the pain bite into his right shoulder, but by then, the revolver was in his hand and he had stretched his arm out. It was a long shot, perhaps twenty-five feet, but he fired and saw Mark Colton stagger. He cocked the hammer back and fired again and saw the man go down. Without a hitch, without a pause, he swung the revolver back, zeroing in on Morton Colton as he got a shot off that went just over Longarm's head. Longarm paused, steadied, and then fired. He saw the bullet take Morton Colton in the center of the chest. He saw it take him and flip him over on his back.

It suddenly got quiet. He was quickly aware of the pain in his right shoulder and then he was aware that a woman was screaming. He got slowly to his knees. John Colton and Frank Carson were running out the door and across the porch. Carson came toward Longarm, but Longarm saw John veer off and head for the end of the building where his brother lay. Then he saw Sally trying to get past her father through the door. He saw her struggling, but the old man had his arms around her. He pulled her back and then shut the door.

Longarm didn't blame him. He didn't want Sally to see the mess, either. It had gone all wrong, very wrong. He had just killed a man's son right before the man's very eyes, and in favor or out of favor, he had also killed another member of the clan. As he tried to struggle to his feet, he felt strong hands under his arms helping him. It was Frank Carson.

Carson said, "Let's go in the cabin and see about that blood on your shoulder." As they walked, Carson said, "I'm sorry; I didn't see it coming. They fooled me. I was keeping my eye on Morton, and Mark must have slipped out the back."

Longarm said through the pain, "Yeah, I figured something was up when Colton kept stalling like he did. He kept talking and also it took him too long to come out of the house. When he did, he was delaying, but I was slow. I didn't catch on to it in time, either. Was it Sally that screamed?"

"Yeah, she saw him out the side window or she must have seen him go out the back with the shotgun. I think they had it made up beforehand."

"It was planned, no doubt about that. I figure Mark's shot was not really intended to kill me. He was too far away for a shotgun. I think it was just to get me off my guard and make me look over that way and give Morton Colton a free shot at me. It damned near worked."

The two men went into the cabin, and Longarm sat down on a chair near the table. His right shoulder was already starting to stiffen up. There was a lot of blood on his shirt, but he didn't believe he was hurt very badly. He had been able to use the arm to get off three shots, good shots at a more than average distance. His eyesight, his ability to see better than most men, had once again saved his life.

Frank Carson helped him off with his shirt and they both looked at his right shoulder. There were three small holes.

"This don't look too bad. Looks like you caught the outer part of the shot pattern. You know that part of the blast ain't got that much power."

"I know," Longarm said.

Carson was pulling one of the holes open with his thumb and forefinger. He said, "Hell, Mr. Long, there ain't no use you taking on about this. This here piece of shot ain't much below the skin."

"That may be so," Longarm said, "but it still hurts like hell."

Carson said, "It ain't hurting nothing like it's fixing to when I go to digging that shot out."

Longarm said grimly, "I do hope you're on my side."

"Well, you'll soon know." Carson dug into his pocket and came out with a folding knife. He opened it, exposing a long, slim, sharp-pointed blade. He took a match out of his shirt pocket and then scratched it against the table and held the point of the knife in the flame. He said, nodding his head at the table, "You better get you a stiff jolt of that painkiller right there. This might smart a bit."

Longarm said, "I reckon I might as well. I don't think I'm going to be standing in very good stead around here. This may be the last whiskey the Coltons give me."

Frank Carson pulled up a chair beside Longarm and began probing in his shoulder for the shotgun pellets. It was hard for Longarm not to wince because the knife digging and probing around in his flesh was not exactly a pleasant feeling. He knew if he flinched the slightest, it would cause the knife to do even deeper work. He took several drinks of the whiskey as the operation progressed.

He said at one point, "Hell, what is taking you so long? I thought you said these things were just right below the skin."

Carson, busy at his work, said, "Well, maybe I stretched it a little bit. Maybe I was just trying to make you feel good."

"Well, hurry up, dammit. I've had more fun being run over in a stampede."

Carson said, "Aw, there." He laid a bloody lead pellet on the table. "There's one. Two more to go."

Longarm said, "You better pour me some more whiskey. I'm kind of feeling light-headed."

"You know, Mr. Long, one thing I'm curious about. You say you were in the land and cattle business back there in Arizona?"

"That's right."

"That Arizona must be a pretty tough place for a land and cattle man. You sure as hell handle yourself pretty well, especially with a gun. I've seen you with one in your hands twice, and you've come out on top both times."

"Just lucky."

"Yeah, I guess you could call it luck to fall down to keep from being hit by a shotgun and while you're falling, you put two bullets into one man and then just after you hit the ground, you plug another dead center in the chest from a pretty good distance away. I'd say that those shots you made were either awful damned lucky or showed considerable practice."

Longarm said tersely, "Like you say, Arizona is a rough place. A man needs to stay ready."

Carson removed another pellet and put it on the table. By now, the whiskey was beginning to take effect, and it wasn't hurting too bad. Carson said, "I reckon you know what this means?"

"No. What does it mean?"

Carson said, "I don't think there's going to be any wedding bells in the near future for you, not with Miss Sally."

"Will they feel that strongly about it?"

Carson pulled back and looked at him. He said, "Hell, Mr. Long, you just killed the man's son. How do you think he's going to feel about it?"

Longarm said, "Well, I don't know. I'll have to wait and see."

Carson said, "Well, here's the last one." He held the lead slug between the point of the knife and his thumb as he showed it to Longarm. He dropped it on the table. He said, "No charge. Happy to do it. The look on your face was payment enough."

Longarm said, "I can tell you're one of them kind souls that likes to go around amongst the poor and needy, doing good deeds."

"Oh yeah," Carson said. "But now comes the fun part. Let me have that glass of whiskey you're drinking."

"Get your own."

"I'm not going to drink it." Before Longarm could protest, Carson had raised Longarm's arm up parallel to the floor. Before Longarm realized what was happening, Carson was filling up the bullet holes with the fiery high-proof whiskey. It was all Longarm could do to smother a scream that started low in his throat.

Longarm said through clenched teeth, "Dammit! That hurts!"

"Well, it's better to smart a little bit now than to have to get me to cut your whole arm off when gangrene sets in."

"Hell, we don't need to sell this stuff to saloons. We need to sell it to hospitals. That stuff would cure pneumonia."

Frank Carson finished his work and sat down across from Longarm. He said, "You probably ought to let it alone for a while and let it bleed. We'll splash some more whiskey on it later on."

"What do you think happens now?" Longarm said. He flexed his arm several times, making sure it didn't stiffen up. "You reckon they'll be taking a dim view of this matter?"

Frank Carson shrugged. He said, "They're fair people. I know they look a little backward, but they're still fair. Old Asa knows what Mark tried to do. He tried to bushwack you, and he got himself killed in the process. He knows you were defending your life. He knows that Morton Colton should never have come here, and that this situation should never have happened. That's why he was trying to make peace. He knew it would go wrong if y'all got guns in your hands."

"What do you reckon will happen now?" Longarm said.

Carson took a drink of his whiskey. "Let me finish this, and I'll go over there and see what the weather is like. If you see me coming on the run, you'd better go out the back door."

Longarm said dryly, "There ain't no back door."

Carson finished his whiskey and then stood up. "Then you better make one."

Longarm sat pondering the situation while he waited for Carson to return. It could be that the gunplay had blown up the whole investigation. He might likely be facing an armed party of Coltons or the old man might simply order him off his property. Longarm had no idea what was going to transpire. He felt a good deal of satisfaction about Morton Colton, but not so much as to what he had been forced to do to Mark.

After about a half hour, Longarm saw Frank Carson walking back from the house. He was carrying some long, white strips in his hand. Longarm figured they were torn-up sheets that he was going to use to bandage up his shoulder. He realized that he had been lucky in this whole process. If Sally hadn't screamed, Mark would have caught him with the full spread of the buckshot. He wouldn't have just been hit in the right shoulder. He would have caught the load all through his upper body and his head. Most likely, if he hadn't been badly wounded, he would have been killed.

Carson said, "Brought some bandages to do you up proper. First, splash some whiskey on them wounds."

"You mean you want me to do that to myself?"

"You ain't got the nerve for it?"

Longarm picked up the glass of whiskey and poured it onto his raw flesh. It still bit him so bad, he had to grit his teeth.

Carson pulled a chair up next to Longarm's side and began wrapping the bandages around his upper arm and over his shoulder. It was a difficult job, and he made clumsy work of it, but in the end he tied it off and pronounced it the best he could do.

Longarm asked, "What about Mr. Colton? What did Asa have to say?"

Frank Carson shook his head slowly. He said, "He didn't really say anything to me. He's coming over in about a half hour to have a talk with you. It'll just be him and John."

"You reckon talk is all they have on their mind?"

"If they were going to do anything about it, they'd have already done it. There'd be bullets coming through these windows, making both of us dance."

Longarm gave him a look. He said, "Mr. Carson, I want you to understand, this is not your trouble. It's mine, and I think you'd be well advised to stay out of it."

"Have no fear, Mr. Long. I intend to stay out of it."

CHAPTER 10

Asa Colton came over to the cabin, accompanied by his son, John. His manner was grave and reserved and sad. He and Longarm sat on opposite sides of the little table, facing each other. Longarm said, "Mr. Colton, I want you to know that I feel mighty bad about what-"

The old man held up a hand. "Ain't no time for words about that now, Mr. Long. Saying sorry don't bring the past back. Mark wasn't much account, but he was my boy, and I want you to bear that in mind when I tell you what I have to tell you. There ain't nothing personal in it, and I don't hold no grudge again' you, but it's just got to be the way it's got to be. I can't let you marry my daughter Sally. Not after you killed her brother."

Longarm found his role very difficult to play. He had never intended to marry Sally, but if he was what he had presented himself to be, he wouldn't lose her without some argument. He had to play his string out as the Arizona cattle and land businessman who was trying to get into the whiskey business. Two men, neither one of which was of much account, had forced him to kill them. He didn't feel a damned bit bad about it, and he had no intention of not going through with his job. He felt sorry for the sad-eyed old man sitting across from him, but that wasn't his responsibility. He had been forced to kill the old man's son. If Mark hadn't been out there with a shotgun trying to kill him, he wouldn't have gotten himself killed. Longarm felt sorry for Asa, but he was still going to do his job.

He said, "Mr. Colton, that ain't fair. You and I both know that Mark was trying to kill me. You can't take Sally away from me on account of defending myself. Now, you let that snake Morton come in here and cause me trouble. It don't seem fitting that you would hold me to account for what he and Mark got up to. I never set out to kill nobody."

The old man nodded slowly. "I reckon what you say is true, Mr. Long, but it just wouldn't work out for you to be married to Sally. The rest of the family would hold it again' you. Mark was wrong. He was trying to ambush you with a shotgun. He was helping that sorry Morton. I've got to thank you for killing that rattlesnake. In the end, he'd of ruined more than one of the Coltons. He's already ruined several of them, and I hate it that the last one he ruined was my own flesh and blood. I don't hold it again' you for killing him--Mark, I mean. I don't hold it again' you for nothing. He was shooting at you. In fact, he shot first. I seen it. Mr. Long, I know what happened."

John was standing right behind his daddy. In a strained voice, he said, "Mr. Long, what Daddy is trying to say is there never would be a way for you to be accepted into the family. Mark's wife would hold it again' you, and eventually, she'd hold it again' Sally, and so would the rest of the family. Y'all would always be on the outside. Sally's crying her eyes out right now, but there ain't no other help for it. Daddy is already having her clothes packed. He's going to send her with her aunt until you get cleared of the country. She don't want to go, and she's putting up a hell of a struggle, but if she has to go tied hand and foot, she'll be leaving within the hour. You ain't never gonna be seem' her again, Mr. Long."

Longarm sighed. He said, "That comes as a blow to me, John. I don't think it's fair and I don't think it's right, but if that be your daddy's decision, ain't a damned thing I can do about it."

Old man Colton nodded. He said, "I appreciate it kindly. By kindly, I mean I appreciate you not standing up and making a squawk about it. It's for the best, Mr. Long. I know my kinfolk, and I know it just wouldn't work."

"Well, that's that, then. And I reckon, except for the whiskey, our business is finished."

The old man said, "There do be one more thing, Mr. Long. I'm a-feared I can't sell you no whiskey now."

Longarm was truly startled this time. "The hell you say! How come you can't sell me no whiskey? Here you take the woman I love away from me and now you say you ain't gonna sell me no whiskey?"

Asa Colton shrugged. He said, "I thought it through and I figured it to be for your own good. You can't ever come back here in this holler and you can't ever do any more business with this family. One load would just whet your appetite for more, like Mr. Carson here. He's been buying whiskey from us for five, six, seven years. Buys four or five times a year, I don't remember exactly how many. So, you see, one little load of two thousand gallons ain't gonna set you up for much."

Longarm said stubbornly, "Yeah, but I've come all this way, and I ought to at least take back some. That little old two thousand gallons, at least I ought to be able to take that back. What are my partners going to think that I've been doing out here? If I come back with no whiskey, Mr. Colton, then I'm going to look mighty bad. Now, I ask you, would you like to be in the position you are putting me in?"

The old man thought for a moment. Finally he said, "No, I reckon not." He looked up at John. "Son, what do you reckon? Should we let him have that two thousand gallons?"

John shrugged. He said, "It's already loaded on the wagons and they'll be starting up any time. What difference does it make? Mr. Long has to get out of this country somehow. He might as well get out on that train."

Longarm said, "There. Thank you, John, I appreciate it. Lord, it's hard enough to take a man's woman but then to try to take his whiskey..."

Asa nodded. He said, "Well, in that case, if we're going to let you have the whiskey, then I think it's only fair that you do Morton's job on the account of it was you that killed him. I was thinking about asking Mr. Carson to do it, but he's a customer that will be coming back, and you ain't ever going to be coming back, so it seems fair to ask you to do it."

"Do what?"

"Well, the way we handles it with them two federal fellows is, we pay them off at the train as it's loaded on the siding. We pay them ten cents per gallon. We're going to be shipping twelve thousand gallons, so we'll have twelve hundred dollars to hand to them for the whole shipment. Now, I don't ever let no Colton hand them the money."

"Hell, Morton was a Colton."

The old man shook his head. "No, his last name was Colton. He wasn't a Colton. If he'd been the only one that you killed, there would have been no trouble. But someone has to hand over the money, and I'd take it kindly if you'd handle that for me, Mr. Long, and we'd be quits and there'd be no hard feelings, not that there is any now."

Longarm was calculating in his mind. It would have been better to have one of the Coltons hand over the money to the Treasury agents. It wasn't as good with him doing it. But what was important was that they took it. If they took it from his hand, then the Treasury agents were just as guilty as if they had taken it from the hand of Morton Colton or any other Colton or anybody else connected with the whiskey so far as that went.

Longarm thought about it for a good long moment. Finally, he nodded. He said, "Yeah, I reckon I could do that."

The old man nodded. He said to Longarm, "For that, I'll let you have the whiskey, but I won't let you pay the money for it."

Longarm was alarmed. He said, "Sir, I wouldn't feel right about that. I feel the need to pay for that whiskey."

Asa Colton studied the situation for a moment. "You get your cash money from back home?"

Longarm nodded. "Yes, Mr. Carson brought it to me."

"Well, you just pay them government folks the money they got coming out of your cash, and we'll be square. That'll give you a pretty good price per gallon, and you can make a little more profit."

It didn't matter to Longarm what the price was, so long as money changed hands. "I'm much obliged for that, sir. Do you mind if I ask what the names of them Treasury agents are?"

John said, "Not that it makes much difference, but their names are Colley and Small."

"They got first names?"

Behind him, Carson laughed. He said, "Hell, Mr. Long, do you plan on getting social with them? What the hell do you care what their first names are?"

Longarm realized he had gone too far. He said, "I don't really give a damn what their names are. I just wanted to make sure I give the money to the right people."

Asa chuckled. He said, "You'll be able to tell which ones they are. They'll be the ones with their hands out. There might be some confusion about Morton not being there, but you just tell them that you are taking his place, that he met with some kind of accident."

Longarm said, "I reckon I can handle that."

Asa Colton got up. "There's one more thing, Mr. Long. I'm going to ask you to stay in this cabin for the balance of this day and tonight. I know it seems unfair, but there's some hard feelings over at the big house, and I wouldn't want you to run into any more trouble. I'll have you some supper sent over. You and Mr. Carson will be leaving early in the morning. The wagons will be pulling out right after dark."

"I don't understand all that I know about this train business. Can you explain this to me?"

John said, "There ain't really nothing that you need to know, Mr. Long. You ride along with Mr. Carson. He's done this a half dozen times before, and he knows the way."

Longarm said, "How come the wagons are leaving here tonight?"

"Because it's a hard pull up and down some of these hills for the horses and oxen. That whiskey weighs considerable more than you think it does. Twelve thousand gallons is a pretty good load of whiskey."

"All right," Longarm said. The two men were moving toward the door. "I'm sorry it turned out this way, Mr. Colton. I wish we could have gone on doing business in the future."

The old man stopped and shuffled his feet for a second. He said, "You never can tell. Time has a way of healing old wounds. I hope you don't feel too bad about Sally."

Longarm said, "Naturally I feel mighty bad about Sally. I hope she finds a good man who won't cause her trouble with her own folks. I wish it could have been me."

John said, "Well, we'll bid you a good-bye now, Mr. Long. Y'all have a good rest this evening."

When they were gone, Longarm sat down at the table. Frank Carson came over from where he had been standing by the bed and sat down across from where Asa Colton had been sitting. He said, "Looks like you didn't come off too good. You lost a wife, and you damned near lost the whiskey. I do have to say, though, you got a better price on the whiskey. I guess you could look at it as a profit all around."

Longarm watched the old man and his son as they walked back toward the big house. He could see them clearly out the window. He said thoughtfully, "I just wish they weren't such nice folks."

He switched back to Carson. He said, "I don't understand about this railroad business, these boxcars and the whiskey being loaded and all this and that. How is that going to get me back to Arizona with a load of whiskey?"

Carson said, "it ain't hard. There's a siding about fifteen miles southwest of here. You and I will ride over there in the morning. It will be about a two-, two-and-a-half-hour ride. There will be three boxcars loaded on the siding. I'm taking six thousand gallons and it will be loaded into one of the boxcars. Your two thousand gallons will be in another, and as I understand it, they're shipping four thousand gallons down to an old customer in Texas that will be in the third boxcar. That's twelve thousand gallons. Each one of those cars has a waybill on it for its destination. When the train picks us up coming by from North Little Rock, it will run us down to Hot Springs, which is a switching point about eighty or ninety miles away. From there, you can get your boxcar tagged onto a train heading west, I'll head east, and I guess that load for Texas will head south. That's all there is to it."

"Will any of the Coltons be there?"

Carson shook his head. He said, "I doubt it. The wagons will have already arrived and loaded the whiskey on the boxcars and will have damned near gotten back here by the time we get there. Somebody might stick around to see that nobody fools around with the whiskey, but the Coltons don't like to be involved in that part of the business. That way, nobody can really ever connect them with it."

Longarm said, "Sounds smart to me." He reached across and picked up the bottle of whiskey and poured them both a drink. "By the way, Mr. Carson, I've taken note of the fact that while you brought me my money, you didn't bring me those two bottles of Maryland whiskey I had in my room in Little Rock."

Carson smiled. "Well, either somebody stole that whiskey or I drank it or it got broke. Either way, you ain't got it. Best I can tell you about that is that however you lost it, don't make no difference."

Longarm gave him a look. "I bet you drank it."

Frank Carson said, "Now, why would I want to do that when my family makes some of the best sipping whiskey in the South? It wasn't that bad, though, to tell you the truth. I have to admit that."

Longarm gave him a stern look. "Why you low-down son of a bitch. Me sitting here drinking this mouth-searing, rot-gutting, head-busting white lightning, and you're up there drinking my good whiskey. You're a hell of a fellow, Mr. Carson."

"My mother thinks so."

They left a little before seven the next morning, riding Frank Carson's horses. The going was hard at first. It was up steep inclines and then down and then up another steep incline and then down again and again. Carson said, "Now you see why the wagons leave so early?"

After a half hour's riding, they cut the track the wagons had made and followed it for about an hour. After that, it was faster to cut cross-country through places the wagons couldn't go.

Longarm asked, "Where does this train come out of?"

Frank Carson said, "Well, I don't know where it starts, but its last stop before it picks up the cars is North Little Rock. What the hell do you care?"

Longarm said, "I'm just trying to figure how those federal boys are going to get there. Will they come on horseback?"

Carson gave him a look. "You're certainly a curious fellow, ain't you? No, they won't come on horseback. They'll be on that train, at least that's how they've done it before. Of course, I ain't never had no part in that, and I don't really care where they come from. All I want to do is make sure my whiskey's all right and get the hell on home. I'm tired of this damned place."

"What kind of fellows are they, those government men?"

Carson shook his head. "I don't know, Mr. Long. What do you care?"

"I just want to know what to expect. Are they tough?"

"I've done told you, I don't know. I didn't say I didn't know them, Mr. Long, and I didn't say that I did know them. I didn't say anything about it. I didn't say anything at all about them. Take my meaning?"

Longarm said, "Sounds like a nice way of telling me to mind my own business."

"There you go, Mr. Long."

They had to rest their horses from time to time because of the rough terrain. Finally, they topped a rise and broke through a wide stand of trees and then rode out into the opening of a long downslope that led toward the railroad bed. From two miles off, they could see the three boxcars standing, silent and waiting.

Carson looked at his watch. "It's ten minutes after nine. The train should be along about ten. We'll just have time to load my horses up into my boxcar before the train gets here."

Longarm said, "Then let's get to it."

They rode on down the slope and pulled up at the three big, brown boxcars. Longarm could see that the first one was almost half full of cases of whiskey. He expected that was Frank Carson's load. The middle one was only partially loaded, and he expected that was his. He couldn't see into the third boxcar, but he supposed that was the one bound for Texas.

They dismounted and began taking the saddles off the horses. There was a grove of trees to the east some two hundred yards away, and Longarm could see a figure in the foliage among the trees. He said, "Wonder who that is?"

Frank Carson said, "That will probably be John, but he don't want you to act like you see him, so just go on about your business."

They got the horses unsaddled, and then Frank Carson scrambled up into his boxcar and pushed out a wide wooden ramp that tilted down to the ground. Together, they led the horses up one by one and got them established in the empty half of the boxcar. Longarm said, "What about feed and water?"

Frank Carson said, "They'll be all right until we get to Hot Springs, and I'll get the yard crew there to put in a water trough and some hay and feed. It's a pretty good little ride from there on back to Tennessee."

They brought the saddles up, threw them in, and then jumped down and pushed the ramp back into the boxcar. After that, they walked down and looked into Longarm's car. Carson said, "Yeah, that's about two thousand gallons. Reckon you'll make a pretty good profit off that back in Arizona, Mr. Long?"

Longarm said, "Hell, I hope so. It appears that I've gone through enough trouble over this here whiskey. I've lost a wife, been shot at, had to kill two men."

Carson said, "Three."

"Oh, yeah. That deputy back in Little Rock."

"I'd make it a good long time before I went back to that town if I's you."

"Sounds like good advice."

After that, they squatted in the grass and smoked and took nips out of a bottle of whiskey while they waited. Finally, they heard the sound of a train in the distance. They stood up and watched it come chugging around the side of a hill a couple of miles away. It was a freight train with a yellow caboose at the end. "Must be a local," Longarm said.

"How so?"

"Ain't many cars," Longarm said.

"Freight trains can't pull many cars in these mountains. Ain't like out in the flat land where you'll see one pulling fifty or sixty cars."

Longarm looked thoughtfully at Carson. For some time now it had been on his mind as to what he was going to do with this man. Carson had done him several favors. He had also backed him to a degree in a gunfight. Longarm did not plan to arrest him. In fact, he was going to let Carson leave with his whiskey. He didn't, however, want him getting in the way as a hinderance or as an innocent bystander who might get hit with random gunfire if it came to that. But he could not tell Carson that he was a United States deputy marshal, not before he arrested those two Treasury agents. He just had to hope that Carson would have sense enough to stay out of it.

Longarm glanced back to the little copse of woods. The figure was still there, but John had ridden deeper into the timber so as to further remove himself from the transaction when it took place. They watched as the train went slowly past them on the track. It went on until it was beyond the siding switch. A conductor came down and unhooked the caboose, leaving it short of the siding switch. Then he reset the switch so that the train could back onto the siding and connect to the three boxcars.

Just as the train started groaning its way backward, Longarm saw two figures come out of the caboose and step to the ground. The men came walking toward him, stepping over the tracks. As they neared, he could see that they were both dressed in four-button suits with high collars and foulard ties. They were sporting derby hats.

"That them?" Longarm said.

"Yeah."

"Quite the dandies, ain't they?"

"Well, they can afford it. You better have your money ready."

Longarm reached into his pocket for the envelope containing the $1,200. The men stepped over the last rail and started down the line of boxcars. Longarm took several steps forward. He noticed one of the men was wearing muttonchop sideburns. It was difficult for him to keep a straight face. They were small and insignificant men made even smaller by their underhanded and backdoor dishonesty. He held out the envelope. "You Small and Colley?"

One of them, a man about thirty with light brown hair showing out from under his derby said, "Who's asking?"

"The man who's filling in for Morton Colton."

"Where's Morton?"

"He took sick. There's twelve hundred dollars in this envelope. You want it?"

For a second, the man just stared at Longarm and then put out his hand and took the money. The other one said, "We had better check and make sure how much whiskey is in these boxcars. We wouldn't want old man Colton shorting us."

"Oh, I think you can depend on Mr. Colton being fair with you," Longarm said.

"We'll see ourselves," the blond one said. They started up the line, looking in the boxcars.

The deal was done as far as Longarm was concerned. He turned his back on Frank Carson and took a step or two after the men. As he walked, he took his badge out and pinned it in plain sight on his shirt. The two government agents had finished inspecting the last car and had started walking back toward him; he waited until the distance had closed to about fifteen feet. Then he said, without drawing his revolver, "Hold it! My name is Custis Long, and I'm a United States deputy marshal and you two sons of bitches are under arrest."

In response, the two men stopped and stared at him, dumbfounded. One of them finally strangled out a weak "What?"

Longarm said, "You heard me, you're under arrest. If you're carrying weapons, I'm telling you now to get them on the ground and get your hands over your head. I don't want no trouble with you. I won't kill you unless you make me."

One of the men said in a quiet voice, "We ain't armed."

"Shuck them coats and them vests, and let me see what you've got on underneath there."

A quiet voice from behind him said, "Mr. Long, or Marshal Long, I should say, I'm armed, and I've got a high-caliber revolver pointed right at your back."

Longarm said, not taking his eyes off the two Treasury agents, "Mr. Carson, stay out of this. You don't want no part of this. This is serious business."

"It is serious, Marshal Long. You're about to interfere with my livelihood and I don't care to get arrested. Now, you unbuckle your gun belt and let it fall to the ground. Don't reach for that revolver. I don't want to have to shoot you," Carson said.

"Mr. Carson, I have no intentions of arresting you or interfering with your shipment of whiskey. It's these two men I want."

"Marshal Long, I ain't going to tell you again. Unbuckle that gun belt and let it fall to the ground."

Longarm was silent, watching the two Treasury agents.

Longarm carefully put his left hand to the buckle and slipped it just underneath until he could get hold of the.38caliber derringer that was held there by the steel springs. He said, "Frank, you don't want to be doing this. I can't drop this gun belt. That revolver of mine has a hair trigger, and it'll go off if I drop it. Why don't you ease on up here and lift it on up out of my holster?"

"Just make sure you hold yourself right still while I do, Marshal Long."

Longarm heard Carson's footsteps behind him. The instant he felt a touch on the butt of his revolver, he whirled to his left, pulling out the derringer as he did. As he came face-to-face with Frank Carson, he fired. He saw the .38caliber slug knock a surprised look onto the man's face. But Longarm had no time to hesitate. With his right hand, he jerked the revolver that Carson was holding out of his hand. He let his momentum carry him on around until he was on one knee in the grass, thrusting Carson's revolver out in front of him.

He yelled at the two Treasury men, "Freeze and get those damned hands up!"

The agents had not moved. One had his coat half off. He just stood there. The other one put his hands quickly over his head. Longarm glanced toward the woods. The dim figure of John had disappeared. He glanced behind him at Frank Carson lying on his back, blood coming out of a hole in the left side of his chest.

He said, "Dammit, Carson. How come you had to get involved?"

Carson turned his head slightly. He said, "Hell, I couldn't let you have all the fun."

CHAPTER 11

It was a long journey back to Denver. Longarm spent most of it trying to make sense out of the report he was writing. Since he had been given direct orders not to involve himself down in the tangled hollows and cuts and draws of the moonshining country, he had to invent plausible reasons why he was drawn step by step into the lengthy investigation that he was supposed to have had no part of. To tell it as it had actually happened would have given Billy Vail too much glee, so Longarm had added a few touches to make it seem as if his hand was forced at every turn.

He made it apparent that the federal men from the Treasury had been his goal from the beginning. Since that wasn't true, he had to invent a set of circumstances that made it seem so. He also had a little trouble with why he had not arrested any of the moonshiners. That had been a little more delicate. He had gotten around that by suggesting that it was work for honest Treasury agents and he was sure that the Treasury Department would be more than anxious to make up with some good work for the deceit and corruption of Colley and Small.

He had dropped the two agents off in Dallas, Texas, with a federal marshal there who would see to their arrival in Washington, D.C. He supposed that Billy Vail would write up the charges from Longarm's report. He had managed to get out of Colley first and then Small the amount of money they had managed to extort from the bootleggers over the years they had been assigned to the territory. It was a staggering sum. It had made Longarm angry to think of his pay in relation to what the two men had been receiving. No wonder they looked like they spent most of their time at the tailor.

Frank Carson had been a very lucky man. At first, Longarm had thought he was a goner for sure. The bullet hole had been just to the left of center and only about four or five inches above his navel. There was no way the bullet could have passed through him without hitting something vital, and there had been an entrance wound and an exit wound. He had managed to get the man loaded with the help of Small and Colley, and he had cracked the whip at the engineer of the train. He had been amazed that the man had stayed alive until they reached Hot Springs.

There, a doctor had solved the mystery for him. Longarm's bullet had, through sheer luck, gone in at an angle and hit a rib in such a way that it rode along the rib and then exited out the man's back. It was a million-to-one shot. Carson was going to be weak and sore for a good long while, but he wasn't going to die.

Longarm said, "How come you pulled such a foolish stunt as to take a gun on me?"

Carson had smiled wanly. He was still very weak. "Yeah, that was pretty stupid. I had already seen you at work, and I should have had better sense. And since I'd known you were a marshal ever since I went back to town, I shouldn't have been surprised."

It had turned out that Longarm had had a portion of his expense voucher in the bottom of his valise. Frank Carson had come across it while he had been packing Longarm's clothes. He said with as much laugh as he could muster, "If you had been a little neater, I would have never had to go through your valise to get everything arranged. I'd have never seen that piece of paper in the bottom, never seen that you were United States Deputy Marshal Custis Long."

"Why didn't you give me away to the Coltons?"

"Because they would have killed you."

"Well, I've got to say that was mighty square of you, Frank. How come you interfered with my job down there?"

Carson had coughed and cleared his throat. He said, "Because I was afraid you were going to arrest me and take my whiskey."

Longarm shrugged. "There was the dilemma. I didn't know what you were going to do, and you didn't know what I was going to do. I never was going to arrest you and as far as I'm concerned, as soon as you get well, you can ship that whiskey on to Tennessee. It's your whiskey; you paid for it. The only ones I really wanted were those two corrupt Treasury agents. It makes me mad as hell for somebody to give a federal officer a bad name."

Carson said, "I reckon next time I get into a similar situation, I'll think twice. Are all United States deputy marshals as bad as you?"

Longarm smiled. He said, "Just the ones that are alive."

He had left the two thousand gallons of whiskey with the marshal in Dallas. He guessed he could have taken it on back to Denver and given Billy Vail the problem of what to do with it, but since it would be evidence in the trial against the two Treasury agents, Longarm had thought it was best that it go where they went.

The marshal in Dallas had wanted him to leave the twelve hundred dollars also as evidence, but Longarm had looked at him as if the man had lost his mind. He said, "If I get back to Denver without that whole twenty five hundred dollars, Billy Vail will be taking it out of my pay for the next three years. No thank you, sir. I'll give you a receipt to the effect that I'm taking the twelve hundred dollars on to Chief Marshal Billy Vail in Denver, Colorado, but I'm taking the money with me."

He left Sally out of the report. There didn't seem to be any point in mentioning her, even though she would return to his thoughts many, many times. He had a bottle of Colton whiskey in his bag. He had brought it along as a keepsake. Now, as the train rumbled along through the night, leaving New Mexico and heading on into Colorado toward Denver and home, he took a drink of the whiskey in toast to the black-haired beauty that had made the dreary assignment almost tolerable. At least, for a few moments.

But he had taken too big a drink, and he gasped and winced as the raw whiskey burned its way down his gullet and then hit his stomach like a fireball. He was sorry now that he hadn't fetched home a case of the rotgut and forced Billy Vail to drink it, at the point of a gun. Maybe that would break him of sending Longarm off on such assignments. He doubted it, though. If there was anything meaner and harder to get along with than the raw Colton whiskey, it was Billy Vail himself.

That wasn't exactly true, Longarm thought, but it always made him feel better to picture the chief marshal in as mean a fashion as he could when he started piling on the irritating jobs. The best thing that could be said about this one was that it was over. Longarm settled back in his seat and thought about his dressmaker lady friend in Denver. He ought to be there early enough the next day for them to perhaps go stepping out. For the time being, he was content.

The End