Longarm - Longarm On The Fever Coast Part 6

Longarm noticed some thoughtful souls, likely old-time Mexicans, had planted cottonwood, or alamo as they called it, along either side of the wagon trace outside of town. Cottonwood grew fast, but he figured it had been planted a while back, judging by how the fluttering leaves of the overhead branches shaded clean across the road in places while providing at least dappled sunlight most everywhere else. He really liked thoughtful souls. So thinking back to how a soiled dove called Silver Heels had turned out, he told Ruby the bittersweet story of a sister in sin as they drove on through the uncertain light.

Silver Heels, so called for the silver heels of her dancing shoes because she refused to give her real name, had been making money hand over fist as the prettiest and some said friskiest wh.o.r.e in a mining camp that varied some with the teller of the tale. But everyone who told it, one way or another, agreed it was smallpox, breaking out in mid-winter when the trails were closed, that made things get grim as all h.e.l.l. Some said there was no doc in town at all. Others said there might have been, but not unlike Norma Richards, he'd been overwhelmed by the plague, and so Silver Heels had pitched in alone to help. In either case, it had been that one lone wh.o.r.e, working round the clock serving soup and cleaning the fevered, p.u.s.s.y bodies of half the folks in camp, who'd saved the fifty or sixty percent who'd come through alive. So later on, the grateful miners had picked out a particularly pretty peak and named it Mount Silver Heels. Longarm a.s.sured this other good-natured wh.o.r.e, "There's no doubt about where Mount Silver Heels is today. You can find it on any large-scale map of Colorado."

"Where might the real Silver Heels be found today?" asked Ruby in a pensive tone.

Longarm shrugged. "n.o.body knows. She just left the hardrock country with the smallpox and the next spring thaw. You hear some say she had to quit whoring because her pretty little face had been scarred up hideously by the pox she caught helping so many others fight off. Others say she married a miner who'd struck it so rich he could afford to keep her and her frisky favors all to himself. I've even heard tell that today the former Silver Heels is a respectable and highly respected young matron of Denver high society."

"What's the truth, Custis?" Ruby asked, as if she felt sure he'd know.

He did, and it was a sin to lie when you didn't have to. So he told her, "Let's just say her story had an ending a lady asked me not to tell anyone else. My point was that a nice gal is a nice gal, no matter what others may think of her."

Ruby told him he was awfully nice too, and snuggled closer as Longarm drove on through the dotted line of sunlight and shadows. When he suddenly reined in, Ruby sat up with a start to gaze all about and ask why. They'd pa.s.sed the last corn milpas north of town, and the tree-shaded wagon trace was surrounded by spartina reeds to seaward and thickets of gumbo-limbo saplings on the higher ground to their left. When Ruby asked why they'd stopped, pointing out the Coast Guard station was almost in sight ahead, Longarm told her, "I know where we are. You could doubtless see the station from here if it wasn't for all those cottonwoods and the way this wagon trace curves just enough to follow the natural lay of the land. I'm a lot more concerned about the way we've just come. I thought I heard some other hoofbeats behind us. But when I reined in just now, somebody else might have too!"

She leaned out her side to peer back around the oilcloth cover, saying, "I don't see anybody, Custis. Even if I did, this is hardly a private road, is it?"

To which he replied more soberly, "Innocent travelers on a public thoroughfare don't stop at least two furlongs back when someone out ahead reins in. So let's see if we can skin this cat some other way."

She a.s.sumed they were going on to the nearby Coast Guard station when Longarm clucked the bay forward some more but kept a tighter hold on the ribbons to just walk them along the wagon trace a ways. Then, leaning out his own side first, he swung them off through the rank Bermuda gra.s.s between the cottonwood holes, apparently heading right at a solid wall of close-packed saplings.

She said, "Chocolate can't pull us through that tangle of second growth, Custis!"

He said, "I know. It ain't second growth. Gumbo-limbo never grows much bigger. It can't make up its mind whether it's a big bush or a small tree. Meanwhile, that ain't exactly where I'm heading."

Ruby grabbed hold of the top braces on her side as he suddenly swung them broadside to the wagon trace, headed back the way they'd just come. He was as surprised as she was by the unexpected gap in the gumbo-limbo they almost pa.s.sed. But he still reined in and backed them into it before handing her the reins and saying, "Hold on whilst I shut the door."

So she did as Longarm slid between the carriage poles and the slick thin trunks of gumbo-limbo to ease back out in the open and, spotting n.o.body else in sight, quickly cut and gather a big light but awkward bundle of sea grape.

Sea grape wasn't related to real grapes. Folks called the seaside bush growing all along the gulf coast that because its big thick leaves looked remotely like grape leaves. Left to itself, the stuff seldom grew shoulder high. But Longarm was able to pile his severed sea grape canes in the opening he'd found in the gumbo-limbo to where somebody pa.s.sing on the nearby wagon-trace might dismiss the small hideout as something that just wasn't worth reining in to study.

He took the ribbons back from Ruby, gave the bay enough slack to lower its muzzle to the lush blue-stem growing in the shady slot, then lowered the shay's oilcloth top as he explained, "I left us just enough room to watch, yon wagon trace over the tops of that piled brush. I want anybody coming along now to have to guess where even the tops of our heads might be."

She didn't complain. It was just as shady under the gumbolimbo branches arching overhead. She took off her sunbonnet and shook out her long dyed hair, saying, "I hope n.o.body ever comes along. It's so cool and, well... romantic in this little nook you found for us, you devil."

He removed his own hat to break up the pattern someone tailing them might be watching for. It was no accident that the Indians made the hand sign for a white man by holding a stiff palm across their brow. Currier and Ives would have it that the Indians with their hands like that were shading their eyes as they peered off in the distance for white folks. Folks who knew Indians better knew any Indian holding his hand like so had already spotted white folks. The way a white rider's hat brim divided his head between light and shadow was more obvious at a distance.

They sat hatless for a long time, and nothing seemed to be taking place on the wagon trace. Longarm was dying for some sleep or a smoke, in that order. Since neither seemed safe just then he said, "They must have figured where I was headed and fell back when I spooked 'em by reining in, as if I'd spotted 'em."

She sniffed and asked if he might not be taking a lot for granted, adding she was used to being followed some herself.

Longarm chuckled at the picture and a.s.sured her, "I'm sure I see why, Miss Ruby. But no offense, I figure the odds on a crook trailing me are greater than those for an admirer trailing a lady with an armed escort. To begin with, there's been a lot of such sinister trailing going on of late."

Since she seemed to care, he brought her up to date on his recent brushes with sinister strangers, having no call to hold back all that much. For as he'd told La Bruja around this time the day before, they hadn't sent him on any secret mission.

Once he'd told Ruby what he had been sent down this way to tend to, she said, "You're right. It's mysterious as h.e.l.l. If someone was out to rescue that outlaw you were sent to fetch, wouldn't they do better going after the lawmen holding him before you ever got here?"

He repressed a yawn and said, "That's about the size of it. Marshal Vail never sent me down here to pester anybody else, and the Rangers in Corpus Christi agreed the two gunslicks I can account for by name ain't wanted state or federal. Not by those names, at any rate. So I'd say the mysterious mastermind offering money to have me back-shot has a mighty uneasy conscience and suspects I'm really on to him."

This time he couldn't help from yawning as he added, "I sure wish I knew what I'm supposed to have on him. So far two innocent bystanders, another nice gal and an innocent kid, have stopped bullets meant for me, and I'm commencing to feel mighty vexed!"

Ruby said, "I can see how anyone would. Tell me more about that Mex wh.o.r.e, La Bruja. You say she admitted she'd been offered money to do you dirty, Custis?"

He nodded but said, "Bruja stands for witch, not wh.o.r.e, and you might say she's more a doxy or outlaw gal than either. I suspect she operates something like an Anglo gal called Belle Starr, up north in the Cherokee Strip near Fort Smith. Gents on the dodge need places to stay, store their ill-gotten gains, and mayhaps swap mounts betwixt owlhoot adventures. Had La Bruja and her own gang wanted to do me dirty for that bounty on my fool head, she'd have had no call to tell me all about it and help me slip out of town on the sneak after dark, right?"

Ruby shrugged and replied, "I suppose not. What sort of a lay did you say this Mexican spitfire was, handsome?"

Longarm yawned some more and replied, "I never said. I never do. A man who'd talk dirty about a lady who's been nice to him would no doubt write dirty words on walls as well."

She insisted, "A lot of men do. I've been in the gents' room after visiting hours at my, ah... place of business. Is that why you'd rather fool with outlaw greaser gals than a white gal like me, Custis? I ain't been with a man since my last period, if that's what's stopping you!"

He laughed incredulously and declared, "For Pete's sake, we've pulled off the trail in broad daylight to find out who's been trailing us with possibly sinister intent!"

To which she demurely replied, "Pooh, n.o.body's coming on that old wagon trace, and I'd just love to come with you in this sweet old love nest you've brought me to, you big tease."

He fought back another yawn, knowing how cruel it might look to yawn at such a time, as he insisted, "There really was another pony trotting along under those infernal trees, Miss Ruby."

She began to unb.u.t.ton her formatting calico bodice as she said, "I'm not calling you a fibber. As I told you before, some of us are wicked because we want to punish ourselves, whilst others are wicked because they want it, a lot. I lost track of how many lovers I had on the side before I decided it made more sense to just leave my old husband and get paid for what I enjoyed most. The poor dear I married young was rich as well as h.o.r.n.y enough, at first. But I fear I'm just too warm-natured to ever settle down with one man. Do you think that makes me some sort of a freak, Custis?"

He answered honestly, "If you're a freak you've got plenty of company, Miss Ruby, albeit few are quite as honest about feelings a lot of us seem to feel. I like to tell myself I can't stay true to one particular gal because of the tumbleweed of occasions when I nearly got caught. I told myself, as well as the gal, that a man who packs a badge with my rep has no right to ask any lady to risk an early as well as likely widowhood, and I reckon I've really meant that more than once. But if the truth be told, I've always recovered from the wistful feeling of moving on."

She said she knew exactly what he meant, and added, "Let's get my lap robe out of the back and spread it on the gra.s.s in this sweet shade for some real sweet s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g!"

But he sighed and replied, "in tall, shaded gra.s.s, along the gulf coast after a rain, Miss Ruby? I can see you ain't been down this way long. They call 'em red bugs over near New Orleans and chiggers west of Galveston. By either name they bite like h.e.l.l and itch way worse than mosquitos. There's one breed of red bug that burrows in under your nails and more delicate places to raise a rash that just won't quit. So take my advice and don't ever even spread a picnic blanket on the gra.s.s in a gumbo-limbo thicket, hear?"

Her form was popping out considerably now as she asked where, in that case, he wanted to screw her.

He gulped and started to point out he'd never asked to screw her anywhere. But he didn't want to sound like a sissy or, worse yet, a man who'd scorn a right nice-looking gal with one h.e.l.l of a pair of naked t.i.ts. So he reeled her bare chest in against his thin s.h.i.+rt and kissed her on one ear as he muttered, "I've never found a better place than right betwixt a pretty lady's legs. But I hope it's understood I'd be aiding and abetting on duty if I was to offer money for any such favors."

She told him not to talk dirty, and added, "Does this one-horse shay look like a wh.o.r.ehouse, you stuck-up thing?"

So seeing she'd put it that way, he just peeled out of his own duds as she finished shucking her own, and laying her crossways on the leather seat with his own boots braced against a wheel and carriage shaft, stuck it to her as she thrust up to meet him, sobbing, "Oh, Lordy, just the way I like it! Just the way I needed it after was.h.i.+ng off so many sick men's privates back there and not getting any for so many days and nights!"

He was glad he'd put his boots back on with just such purchase in mind. For there was much to be said for buggy riding when a man once got the hang of it, and as she gave it back to him with all the skill of a wh.o.r.e feeling really friendly, he surmised she'd done it in this very shay before.

But he never asked. It was her idea to note he acted as if he hadn't been in that Mexican gal after all. She was biting down hard with her innards as she husked, "You screw like a cowhand who's been out on the trail for months with n.o.body but his hand to put it in. Do you mind if I jerk my c.l.i.t off whilst you p.r.o.ng me, honey? You do that so much better than your average h.o.r.n.y cowhand, and I want to come a couple of times while I have your undivided attention!"

He grunted, "They asked the Prophet Mohammed about jerking off one time. He allowed he didn't see how it could be all that sinful, since nine out of ten folks did it and that tenth one was a liar."

So she laughed like a mean little kid, and slid her hand down between their bare bellies to strum her old banjo while Longarm shoved his own more sensitive parts as far up inside her as he could. So a great time was had by all, and when he asked Ruby how come she'd started crying at the end, she said it was because he'd kissed her on the mouth as she was coming. He started to say he never screwed anyone he found too disgusting to kiss. But upon reflection he felt that might sound sort of rude. So he just kissed her some more and confided he'd been coming too.

That inspired her to get on top, facing the other way so she could brace her high-b.u.t.toned heels on the floorboard and really bounce for him with her hands braced on her own knees while Longarm steadied her with a friendly grip on each bare hip. She allowed there was no need for her to strum herself anymore, now that he'd made her feel so womanly inside. He knew she was working harder to pleasure a pal when she peered back over her bare shoulder and confided, "As a rule I charge double to take it up my back door. But I'm not asking you for anything but... well, the nice way you treat a girl, if you want to shoot in my a.s.s this time."

He'd been admiring the view of his love-slicked shaft going in and out of her regular entrance, which had light blond instead of mock red hair by the way. So he thrust up to meet a downstroke as he told her, "I'm doing fine, unless you really like it in your corn hole, honey."

She shook her mock red head and replied, "It doesn't feel good or bad back there, once you get it all the way in. I just knew some men like to do that to a gal and, well, I like you, Custis!"

He said he liked her too just the way she was. So she giggled and commenced to really slide on up and down his old organ-grinder as he lay back and enjoyed her efforts. Poor old Lenore Colbert on that steamer coming north the other night had had ash-blond hair as well as a p.u.s.s.y she'd never really gotten to use like this. He found himself picturing that half-sated erection sliding in and out of that Boston virgin, and it felt pretty convincing with another gal's back to him as he rose to the occasion in her p.u.s.s.y with the light blond hair. But then Ruby shattered the illusion by declaring, "Oh, yes, I can tell you really like me and it makes me feel so grand to please you this way!"

Then she popped off, turned around, and swayed the shay under them alarmingly, before she dropped to her knees on the floorboards and kissed the turgid head of his aroused erection, cooing, "I want you to come where you weren't too proud to stick your tongue, darling!"

So he forgave her for not looking at all like the late Lenore as she proceeded to bob her mock red head up and down, taking him to the roots in a French sword swallow till he gasped "Jeeezusss!" and shot a wad he hadn't known he'd been saving somewhere on the far side of her tonsils.

He had to beg for mercy as she kept on swallowing, the rings of her deep throat rippling wetly up and down his shaft as she sucked every drop out of him.

So he was mighty tempted when she finally raised her head from his lap with a roguish grin, purring, "That was lovely. Would you like to take a nap with your head in Mamma's lap before we drive on? It's hot as h.e.l.l out there right now, and you did say you hadn't had any sleep lately, didn't you?"

He reached for his boots, to take them off so he could put his jeans back on, saying, "Lord love you, Miss Ruby, I was already tired, and now I feel as if I could sleep for a month without getting up once to p.i.s.s. But we'd best drive on anyways."

She sat straighter, stark naked above her garters, proud b.r.e.a.s.t.s heaving with emotion as she demanded, "Why? Don't you trust me not to betray you to the Philistines in your sleep?"

The thought had in fact occurred to him. He'd run into latter-day Delilahs before, and barely come out better than that other lawman, Samson, in the Good Book. But he just said he had to make sure his fellow deputy and their prisoner were all right before he lay his own head down for forty winks.

"You men are all alike!" she suddenly blazed. "I just took it in my mouth for you and you still think I'm a dirty b.i.t.c.h out to lift your wallet!"

When he said he thought no such thing, she demanded he prove it by laying his head right down in her lap or getting his a.s.s right out of her private shay. So in the end, Longarm wound up walking the last couple of furlongs to that Coast Guard station to the north.

CHAPTER 10.

He ran out of shade as the tree-lined wagon trace pa.s.sed by the sh.e.l.l-paved cutoff leading across salt marsh and dune to the Coast Guard station they'd built on a finger of somewhat higher ground that pointed accusingly out to sea. As he approached the cl.u.s.ter of whitewashed frame buildings wrapped around a small parade ground, with a listless Revenue Service flag hanging high on its whitewashed staff, Longarm saw the place was smaller than he'd been expecting. It was about the size of a one-troop army outpost in Apacheria. There was nothing tied up to the one pier running out to deeper water in the coastal lagoon. So he wasn't surprised to see how quiet things were as he strode on to the gate in the four-strand bobwire perimeter. Aside from it being siesta time, a lot of the more important officers and men had to be out to sea aboard their steam cutter in the wake of that storm.

The U.S. Coast Guard was a branch of the Treasury Department instead of the Navy. But the sentry who challenged him at the gate wore a regular sailor suit of summer white with those leggings all sailors wore, for some reason, when they were ash.o.r.e with rifles and cartridge belts. As Longarm showed the kid his badge and identification, he asked if those blamed leggings didn't itch in all this heat. The Coast Guardsman only sighed, and said he'd been told to expect someone from the Justice Department, adding Longarm would find the officer of the day at the headquarters building near the pier. Longarm didn't ask why they expected him to go there first.

It was considered polite as well as sensible to check in with the local law before you made any arrests in a strange town.

It felt like a day's forced march under that ferocious afternoon sun before he made it at last to the shady veranda running the full length of the freshly painted headquarters building. A junior grade lieutenant, equal to a first lieutenant in the army, came out of a doorway down the veranda in dress whites to tell Longarm they'd been starting to worry about him. As they shook hands, he introduced himself as a Lieutenant Junior Grade Devereaux, and said his boss, Lieutenant Flynn, was out chasing boys--or so it seemed to Longarm until he realized the young officer meant buoys, those floating markers they put out across the lagoon to show steamer pilots where to go.

As Devereaux led him inside Longarm remarked, "I can see how your C.O. would be anxious about channels and such after that storm along this coast, But that reminds me of something I was meaning to ask you all. Studying the map along my way up here from Brownsville, I noticed that big old Padre Island off to the east blocks this part of your big lagoon from the open gulf So vessels putting in from the high seas can only enter the long lagoon well north of here."

The officer of the day motioned Longarm to a wicker chair by the big oak desk he was holding down for his superior and dinged a bell on it as he agreed. "Corpus Christi Pa.s.s. What's your question?"

Longarm replied, "What you're doing down here instead of up yonder, where you might be able to guard this big lagoon better, no offense."

Devereaux said, "None taken. You're not the first landsman who's asked me about that. We're not the Navy. We're the Coast Guard. Our mission here is to maintain channel buoys through a stretch of s.h.i.+fting grounds and watch for s.h.i.+fty smaller vessels than the Navy might be worried about. You've no idea how many places there are for smugglers or even pirates to put in along an almost deserted coast facing a monstrous sheltered lagoon!"

Longarm didn't have to answer for the moment as an orderly the lieutenant had obviously sent for refreshments when Longarm had been crossing the parade ground came in with a tray. As he put it on the desk and popped to attention, Longarm saw he'd brought a fifth of Bombay gin, a soda-water syphon, and a couple of tall gla.s.ses packed to their brims with chopped ice. Longarm didn't notice the small pill box before Devereaux dismissed the orderly and picked it up, saying "The British Navy's found it pays to stick to gin and tonic in the tropics. But quinine seems an acquired taste, so..."

"I only take medicine when I'm feeling poorly," Longarm said. "I ain't so sure about that ice either, this close to Old Mexico and the bellyaches that go with unboiled water down this way."

Devereaux smiled as he poured tall drinks, with and without the tonic, saying, "We get our ice at cost from Pryce & Doyle in town. They've a.s.sured us they boil all the water they put in their ice machine. As a matter of fact they furnish shops and even homes in Escondrijo with the clean modern ice they manufacture as a sideline to their meat packing."

Longarm reached for his own gla.s.s as he said, "I've seen their imposing packing plant. I'll take your word they know what they're up to down this way. What I really came out here to talk about was U.S. Deputy Marshall Gilbert and our federal prisoner, Clay Baldwin. I understand you've got 'em both out here?"

Devereaux nodded. "Young Gilbert's in our sick bay, on orders of that federal germ chaser, Miss Richards. He seems to be feeling better, but Miss Richards says he's to stay in bed until she feels sure he won't run another fever, and she ought to know."

Longarm nodded, sipped the drink cautiously, tired as he already felt, and said, "I heard you've had some of that fever out this way as well. Where are you holding Baldwin, in your brig?"

Devereaux sounded reasonable as ever as he replied, "We've gotten off much lighter than they have in town. The skipper thinks it might be because of our more healthful location. Baldwin's being held in solitary confinement on bread and water, pending your arrival."

That didn't sound so reasonable to Longarm. The tall deputy put his barely tasted drink down and rose to his considerable height as he grimly asked, "After a bout of a killing fever? Who ordered a diet of p.i.s.s and punk for my sick prisoner?"

Devereaux sighed. "Don't look at me. Lieutenant Flynn ordered him placed in solitary confinement after Baldwin called him a seagoing sissy who sat down to p.i.s.s."

Longarm smiled thinly at the picture. "I'll have him in leg irons if he talks that way to me on the way back to Colorado. In the meanwhile, the man's been dangerously sick and I want him at least on a cot with some solid grub in him. I'm going to have to borrow a government mount off you, which I'll naturally sign for, and it's my understanding I'll find my own Winchester, saddle, and possibles out here, where Doc Richards had 'em brought from town."

Devereaux looked unhappy. "I'm afraid we can't let you into the quarters set aside for Miss Richards before she comes back from that fever ward she's set up in town. She usually has supper out here in the officers' mess just after retreat."

Longarm nodded. "I want her to look at both Gilbert and our prisoner before I carry either into town in any case. So let's get back to getting Baldwin out of that solitary cell and wrapping him around some solid rations!"

Devereaux almost pleaded, "I can't! Lieutenant Flynn left me here to see his standing orders were carried out, not to countermand them in his absence! He'd have me before the mast for mutiny! You have to understand that Lieutenant Flynn runs a taut s.h.i.+p here!"

The collections of whitewashed buildings in a glorified sandbox wasn't Longarm's notion of any s.h.i.+p, but he saw the position the kid was in. So he asked when the ferocious Lieutenant Flynn was expected back, and when Devereaux said likely by sundown, Longarm said, "Reckon Baldwin and my old McClellan can last that long without me. I'd like to see Deputy Gilbert now."

The lieutenant rang that bell on the desk some more, and that orderly came in looking taut as ever. Devereaux told the enlisted man to show their guest to the sick bay. So it only took a few minutes, and then Longarm was alone with the pale but cheerful enough Rod Gilbert from his own outfit.

Gilbert was barely out of his teens, but according to Billy Vail, a high school graduate as well as a good shot. The department had sure gotten fancy since President Hayes had started cleaning up the federal establishment old Free and Easy Grant had left all covered with cigar ash, informal hiring practices, and graft.

Longarm sat on the steel sprung cot next to Gilbert's, noting the two of them seemed to have the eight-cot sick bay all to themselves. So as soon as he asked Gilbert how he felt he said, "They told me at least a few old boys out here came down with the same mysterious fever, Rod. So what are you doing out here alone?"

Gilbert said, "That lady sawbones, Miss Norma, wanted to carry me in to her fever ward with the rest of 'em. I said I had to stay out here and guard our prisoner. So she allowed it might be all right, seeing she's been eating and sleeping out this way."

Longarm found himself fighting back a yawn as he growled, "You ain't been guarding Baldwin worth s.h.i.+t if you've let 'em put a sick man on p.i.s.s and punk just for sa.s.sing a fool officer! Did you know about that by the way?"

Gilbert nodded soberly. "I told 'em they had no right to punish a civilian outlaw for busting their Coast Guard rules. But they said I'd placed Baldwin under Coast Guard discipline when I asked 'em to hold him in their brig for me, and d.a.m.n it, I don't know where they've hid my boots and side arm!"

Longarm yawned wider and said, "I want Doc Richards to look at you before the three of us shoot our way out of here. Lord, I don't know why I feel so sleepy this afternoon. When you say they, are you jawing about they in general, or that Lieutenant Flynn they all seem so scared of for some reason?"

Gilbert said, "They got plenty of reason to be scared of Flynn. He don't yell like Billy Vail. One strike and you're out with that old boy. He's been polite enough to me, I got to say, but they do say he goes by the book and you'd best pay heed to every comma if you want to keep wearing your rating around here. They say he sends 'em to the brig if they forget to cross a T or dot an I."

Longarm let that go for the moment. In his own army days he'd had less trouble with officers who went by the book, as long as they always went by the book, than those a.s.sholes who cracked jokes with you one minute and expected you to fetch and carry for 'em the next. He repeated his question about the need for a Coast Guard brig to begin with, and Gilbert said, "Baldwin's crazy-mean and to tell the truth, I didn't think much of either the town lockup or the town law when I first arrived. They said Baldwin was sick. He looked more like a mad dog to me, and I got the feeling they were scared of him. I know I was scared of the half-a.s.s cell they had him in. Brick wall betwixt him and the alley out back, for Christ's sake!"

Longarm said, "I noticed. Old Constable Purvis didn't seem too scared of anybody, albeit now that you mention it, it's sort of unusual for an arresting officer to be so disinterested in a prisoner. I know we had more exciting things to talk about, but looking back, it should have struck me odd that he never bragged at all about him or his boys catching an owlhoot rider on the run!"

Gilbert said, "I can answer that one. They never caught him. They bragged they had in that wire to Billy Vail. But if the truth be known, Clay Baldwin was in town over a month, drinking and whoring in plain view under his own given name. n.o.body in town seemed to give a s.h.i.+t till I reckon old Clay run low on money and took to acting even worse."

As Longarm got out a couple of cheroots and his new Mexican matches, Gilbert explained. "It wasn't in that wire to us, but what they say really happened was that old Clay tried to sell some stolen stock to that meat-packing outfit in town. Reckon he figured a side of beef was a side of beef to anyone out to make a profit on it. But he figured wrong. Pryce & Doyle naturally have to be on good terms with the few big cattle spreads in these parts. So they naturally frowned upon Baldwin's business methods when they recognized those local brands on stock he said he'd just trailed down from San Antone!"

Longarm laughed as he lit both their smokes, saying, "I get the picture. I hear Pryce & Doyle use clean water in their ice machine as well. So they turned Baldwin in and... hold on, he trailed even a small herd of stolen cows any distance at all alone?"

Gilbert shook his head. "He won't tell us nothing. He's a total hardcase professional who don't give an inch. But I agree it's tough to cut and herd cows all alone. Why did you think I was so worried about that thin-walled lockup in town?"

Gilbert enjoyed a drag of smoke, let it out, and went on. "They say an indefinite number of riders stayed off to the south in a lot with the herd after dark, whilst Baldwin went into the meat packer's office to settle on a price. His gang just lit out when Baldwin never came back. He never came back because an elderly gent Baldwin took for a sissy bookkeeper threw down on him with a Walker Colt and sent an office boy to fetch Constable Purvis. The braver civilian, who was really Mister Doyle in the flesh, asked Purvis to posse up and ride after the others. But Purvis never did."

Longarm blew a thoughtful smoke ring and said, "He didn't seem so anxious to posse up after a kid got shot in the head in town this morning, come to study on it. I took it at the time as common sense. Maybe it was. But I follow your drift about Baldwin being a tad more secure out here."