Longarm - Longarm. Part 5

"How about you, Mountie? You up to backing my play?"

"On the condition I take him back to Canada? Of course."

Longarm knew better than to ask the railroad d.i.c.k. He took a drag on his cheroot and said, "Somebody, here, has to start thinking instead of being greedy! How long do you all figure we can just sit here, stalemated, like big-a.s.s birds?"

The railroad d.i.c.k said, "I got time. I'll allow it's a Mexican standoff now, but sooner or later somebody has to cave In. I don't mean for it to be me!"

Captain Walthers said, "I sent a telegram to the War Department. I'm waiting for further instructions."

Sheriff Weed said, "I got some old Missouri boys riding out to back my play."

The Mountie said nothing. His service was only a few years old, but Longarm had heard about their motto.

Turning to Weed, he said, "You've come from the owlhoot's old stamping grounds, Sheriff. Before we get ourselves in any deeper, is there a chance that p.i.s.sant over at the jail could be telling the truth? We're gonna look silly as all h.e.l.l if it turns out he's not the Cotton Younger all of us are fighting over."

Weed said, "It's him, all right. How many tall, skinny owlhoots with a wispy white thatch like his can there be?"

The railroad d.i.c.k nodded and said, "I've seen photographs of the kid, sitting next to his cousin Cole Younger, and Frank James. He's older now, and his hair's gone from almost white to pale yellow, but it's him."

The army man smiled a bit smugly and said, "At the risk of finding something to agree on with the rest of you, I have his army records and they fit him like a glove. He deserted from Terry's column as a teenaged recruit. He's no more than twenty-five now. He's a few pounds heavier, but the height is right on the b.u.t.ton. They let me measure him. It would be possible to make an error of half an inch, but his records don't. He's exactly six-foot, six and three-quarter inches. He tried to tell me he'd never been in the army, too."

Longarm nodded, satisfied at least with the identification of the prisoner, if nothing else. Before he could go into it further, the door to the hotel banged open and Chambrun du Val came out loaded for bear. He scowled at Longarm and roared, "Salud! Por quoi you hit Chambrun du Val? Where is mon rifle? Sacre! I think she will kill you, me!"

As the burly older man lurched across the veranda at Longarm, the railroad d.i.c.k put out a boot and tripped him, sending du Val sprawling on his hands and knees as Longarm stepped clear with a nod of thanks. Before du Val could rise, Longarm snapped, "Now listen, old son, and listen sharp! Your war is over. You ain't going to harm a hair on Cotton Younger's head. I ain't asking you, I'm telling you."

"I kill him, but first, by gar, I kill you!"

"Oh, shut up, I ain't finished. You ain't going to kill me because I don't aim to let you. On the other hand, I can't watch you around the clock and still get anything done, so I'm counting on your good sense about the prisoner over at the jail house. You gun that old boy and you can say goodbye to breathing. Forgetting me and these four other lawmen, he's worth G.o.d knows what to a whole valleyful of vigilantes, and if they decide to string you up for murdering their prisoner, I for one wouldn't stop 'em!"

"Chambrun du Val, she fears nothing, him!"

"Maybe, but you think on it before You make anY more sudden moves."

The Mountie came over to help the old man to his feet, saying, "I'll take over, Longarm."

He took the old man by the arm and walked him Off for a fatherly talk. Longarm noticed the Mountie was speaking French, but a few paces off the old trapper laughed and swore, "Merde alors! Misieur's speaks like a paris pimp! The English of Chambrun du Val, she is more betaire than these strange noises Misieur's regards as French!"

The laugh was a good sign. Longarm decided the old man would be all right for now and turned back to the other three on the veranda, saying, "It's early yet. I'm going to have a talk with this Timberline everyone in Crooked Lance looks up to. Any of you know how I can find him?"

Sheriff weed said, "He'll may be riding in later. He's the foreman of the Rocking H, about six miles down the valley."

"He comes to town every night? Don't they have a bunkhouse at his spread?"

"Sure, but he's interested in our stalemate, here."

The railroad d.i.c.k added, "Interested in Kim Stover, too. Her spread's just outside of town, behind them trees to the north."

"I'll bite. Who's Kim Stover? Any kin to the rascal who owns this hotel and everything else in town worth mention?"

"Old Stovers her father-in-law. Miss is the widow of his late son, Ben. They tell us he was run over by the trail herd, summer before last. Matter of fact, she don't seem to get along good with her in-laws."

Captain Walthers sniffed and chimed in, "who could blame the poor woman? You saw the unwashed lout who's taking advantage of us at two bits a night. The Stovers are white trash!"

Longarm didn't ask if the widow was good-looking. She had the la-di-da young officer defending her and the big froggy of the valley courting her. He blew a thoughtful smoke ring. "Like I said, it's still early. I'll mosey out to the Rocking H this afternoon and see what this Timberline gent has to say about the burr he's put under my saddle."

Longarm walked around the building to where he'd left his bay in the livery shed. As he was saddling up, the others drifted in and started untethering their own mounts.

The railroad d.i.c.k said, "the boys and me will just tag along to sort of keep you company, all right?"

"You trust each other as much as you trust me?"

Sheriff Weed grinned and said, "Not hardly," as the Mountie and du Val came in from their stroll. The older man's two big black geldings were the only ones not in the livery shed. Du Val let them run free like old hounds, but Longarm knew they'd come when he whistled. He led his own mount out from under the low overhang and waited politely as the others saddled up. There was no sense trying to get a lead on them. Wherever he went, it seemed likely he'd have company.

CHAPTER 8.

As it turned out, it wasn't a long ride. The railroad d.i.c.k had fallen in beside Longarm's bay as the federal man led off. They were pa.s.sing a windbreak of lodgepole pine and the detective had just said, "That cabin over there's the Lazy K, Kim Stover's place," when they both spied two riders swinging out to the main trail from the modest spread.

One was a hatless woman with a halo of sunset-colored hair and buckskin riding togs. She rode astride, like a man. She sat her mount well, though.

The rider to her left was a man in a mustard Stetson and faded blue denim, on a gray gelding almost as big as one of du Val's plow horses. The man needed a big mount. He was at least a head taller than any human being should have been. Longarm didn't ask if he was Timberline. It would have been a foolish question.

The two parties slowed as they met on the trail. Since all of them except Longarm had been introduced, the railroad d.i.c.k did the honors. Timberline smiled, friendly enough, and said, "Glad to know you, Deputy. Like I always say, the more the merrier!"

The girl was less enthusiastic. She nodded politely at Longarm, but sighed, "Oh, Lord, another lawman is all we need!"

The others had told him the big ramrod was sparking the widow, so Longarm swung in beside Timberline as the entire group headed back to Crooked Lance. He explained his mission as Timberline listened politely but stubborn-jawed. The leader of the local vigilantes was maybe thirty, with coal-black sideburns, and cleanshaven. He sat his gray with the relaxed strength of a man used to having horses, and men, do just about anything he wanted them to.

He heard Longarm out before he shook his head and said, "If it was up to me you could have the rascal, Deputy. h.e.l.l, I was for just stringing him up the afternoon we caught him skulking about this little lady's spread."

"Yeah, I heard you found him with a running iron on him."

"Well, to tell the truth, I can't take all the credit. Miss Kim here, spied him hunkered down near the creek in some brush as me and a couple of my hands rode up to her front porch. Had not ladies been present, that would have likely been the end of it. The skunk lit out when he saw us coming. Windy Dawson, one of my hands, made as nice an overhand community-loop as you've ever seen and hauled the thief off his pony at a dead run. Miss Kim, here, said not to kill him right off, so Windy dragged him into the settlement and we threw him in the jailhouse."

He swung around in his saddle to say to the girl on his far side, "You see why we shoulda strung him up that first day, honey? I told you he was a mean-looking cuss, and now we even have a federal lawman up here pestering us for him!"

The widow said, "n.o.body's getting him until they do right by the folks up here!"

Longarm saw he'd been barking up the wrong tree. The lady might not be related by blood to the money-hungry Stover family, but she'd surely picked up some bad habits from her inlaws!

Speaking across Timberline, Longarm said, "What you're doing here ain't legal, ma'am." Behind him, Sheriff Weed called out, "Save your breath, Longarm. I've laid down the law till I'm blue in the face and n.o.body hereabouts seems to know what law is!"

Longarm ignored him and explained to the determined-looking redhead, "You're holding that Cotton Younger on a citizen's arrest, which is only good till a legally appointed peace officer can take him off your hands."

Kim Stover's voice was sweetly firm as, not looking his way, she said, "The Crooked Lance Committee of Vigilance was elected fair and square, mister."

"I hate to correct a lady, but, no, ma'am, it wasn't. Crooked Lance ain't an incorporated township. The open range hereabouts ain't const.i.tuted as a county by Wyoming Teritory. So any elections you may have held are unofficial as well as unrecorded. I understand the position you folks are taking, but it's likely to get you all in trouble."

For the first time she swung her eyes to Longarm, and they were bitter as well as green when she snapped, "We're already in trouble, mister! You see a schoolhouse hereabouts? You see a town hall or even a signpost telling folks we're here? Folks in Crooked Lance are poor, mister! Poor hard-scrabble homesteaders and overworked, underpaid cowhands without two coins to rub together, let alone a real store to shop in!"

"I can see you're sort of back in the nothing-much, ma'am, but I fail to see why you're holding it against me and these other gents."

"I never said it was your fault, mister. We know who's fault it is that Crooked Lance gets the short end every time! It's them d.a.m.ned big shots out in the country you all rode in from. The cattle buyers who short-change us when we drive our herds in to Bitter Creek. The politicians in Cheyenne, Washington, and such! They've been grinding us under since I was birthed in these mountains, and now we mean to have our own back!"

Timberline noted the puzzled look in Longarm's eyes and cut in to explain, "When Miss Kim's husband, Ben, was killed, them buyers over to the railroad tried to get her cows for next to nothin'! Luckily, me and some of her and Ben's other friends made sure they didn't rob her before Ben was in the ground. We drove her herd in with our others and all of us stuck together on the price of beef."

Kim Stover added, bitterly, "A little enough herd it was, and a low enough price, after all the hard work my man put into them d.a.m.ned cows."

Longarm nodded and said, "I used to ride for the Jingle Bob and a couple of smaller outfits, ma'am. So I know how them eastern packers can squeeze folks, dead or alive. But Uncle Sam never sent me here to bid on beef. I'm packing a federal warrant on that owlhoot you folks caught, and I mean to ride out with him, one way or another."

"Not before we settle on the price," Kim Stover snapped.

Timberline added, still smiling, "Or whup d.a.m.n near every rider in this valley, fair and square!"

"There's five of us, Timberline."

"I know. I can likely scare up thirty or forty men if push comes to shove. But I don't reckon it will. These other four gents and me have had more or less this same conversation before you got here. And, by the way, in case you ain't asked, the five of you ain't together. We figure you'll be bidding against one another before Cotton Younger leaves this valley."

Sheriff Weed called out, "I've told you I'll split the reward with you all, Timberline. This federal man aims to carry him to Denver, where they'll likely hang him without even asking about Frank and Jesse James!"

There was an angry muttering from the other lawmen and du Val spat, disgusted. The railroad d.i.c.k laughed and told Longarm, "Ain't this a caution? We get into this fix every time we talk to these folks. My own bid's highest of all, but n.o.body listens. If you ask me, they're just funning us. I'm getting to where I wouldn't be surprised if that jaybird in the hoosegow wasn't in on it with these valley folks!"

Longarm considered the idea seriously for a moment. It made as much sense as anything else he'd heard that afternoon. He asked Timberline and the girl, "Have you folks thought about the who as much as the how much?"

Kim Stover asked what he meant.

Longarm said, "The reward might have greeded you past clear thinking. I, for one, could promise all the tea in China, were I a promising sort. But, on the hoof, your prisoner's worth two hundred and fifty to you, period, and a.s.suming you can take the word of whoever among us you turn him over to."

Timberline began, "The reward on the James Boy's..."

Longarm cut in to insist, "Cotton Younger ain't no James. He's small fry. So the most he's worth in any place is maybe five hundred, split with the arresting officer. That is, with some arresting Officers."

Sheriff Weed said, "d.a.m.n it, Longarm!"

But Longarm ignored him to go on, "County officers are allowed to accept rewards. Federal officers ain't. If either of you can count, you'll see I've just eliminated one temptation."

The army man, Captain Walthers, cried out, "Hold on there! I'm a federal officer, too!"

Longarm nodded and said, "I'll get to you in a minute, Captain. I'm trying to cut the sheriff out of the tally at the moment!"

Weed yelled, "I told 'em I'd let 'em have the whole reward, G.o.d d.a.m.n your eyes!"

"Well, sure, you told 'em, Sheriff. Likely, if you was to double-cross these folks out here in Wyoming, the folks in Missouri would vote against you, next election, too."

He saw the widow Stover's eyes were going tick-tick-tick in her pretty but bitter-lipped face, so he dropped the attack on the sheriff to say, "The railroad d.i.c.k, here, is a civilian who's working for the reward and nothing else. If he double-crossed you... well, being in the cattle business, you must know how fair a shake you'll get from the courts, against the railroads and such."

The railroad d.i.c.k sighed and said, "Next time that French Canuck tries for you..."

"It was ornery, but you just tried to outbid the rest of us. Like I was saying, a U.S. Deputy Marshal ain't allowed to accept rewards. So if I agreed to forward such rewards as was due..."

"I can see what you're trying to pull," snapped Kim Stover. "It won't work. We know better than to trust any of you to send us the money!"

Timberline laughed and said, "I keep telling you we've been over this same ground, Longarm. You'd best see if Uncle Sam's ready to pay that ten thousand. We ain't piggy. We'll sell the owlhoot to you for half what both James Boys is worth, and if anybody gets the other ten..."

"Back up, Timberline. You're starting to talk about the national debt again. Number one, we don't know whether Cotton Younger knows where either Frank or Jesse James are hiding out. Number two, we don't know whether he'll be willing to tell us, if he does."

Timberline shrugged and said, "I could get it out of him in five minutes if the little lady here would let me talk to him my own way!"

Kim Stover shook her head and said, "I said there'd be no hanging and no torture and I meant it. We're poor but decent folks in Crooked Lance." Then she spoiled it all by adding, "Besides, they'll have ways of getting him to talk, once they pay us for him. I reckon once they've paid us the ten thousand, they'll get him to say whether he knows or not!"

By now they were moving down the main street of the settlement and further argument was broken off as the railroad d.i.c.k groaned, "Oh, no, that's all we need!" A buckboard was parked in front of the general store. A woman in a canvas dust smock and feathered hat was being helped down from her seat by a midget dressed in dusty black. Little Cedric had abandoned his disguise and was puffing a two-bit cigar under his black porkpie hat.

Timberline choked and asked, "Jesus! What is it?"

Longarm said, "Meet Mister and Mrs. Hanks, but don't play cards with them."

As Mabel looked up at the party reining in around them, Longarm touched the brim of his Stetson and said, "Evening, ma'am. I see you got here after all. I asked around for your kin but n.o.body here seems to know 'em."

Cedric Hanks said, "Oh, stuff a sock in it, Longarm! We're here fair and square with an honest business proposition."

Before they could go further into it, the Northwest Mountie moved up beside Longarm and asked, "Did you see where du Val was heading, Deputy?"

Longarm twisted around in his saddle to count heads as he frowned and replied, "Never saw him drop out. Not that I was watching."

The army agent said, "I was, but I didn't think it was important when he dropped back. Who cares about the old drifter, anyway?"

"I do!" snapped Longarm, kicking his bay into a sudden lope as he tore over to the jail and slid from the saddle, drawing as he kicked in the door. The startled jailer, Wade, jumped up from his seat with a gasp, even as Longarm saw the jail was empty except for Pop Wade and the prisoner.

Longarm put his sidearm away with a puzzled frown, explaining, "That old Canuck is up to something. I thought he was heading for here."

He stepped back to the doorway as the Mountie and Sheriff Weed came in, guns drawn. Longarm shook his head and said, "Nope. We were wrong. You think he's in the hotel?"

Weed said, "Not hardly. His two geldings ain't in sight neither. You reckon he's lit out?"

Longarm said, "Maybe. But why?"

"He was a funny old cuss. Said he'd come to gun this jasper, here. Likely he saw there was no way he could, and..."

"After riding all the way from Canada, without even saying adios? I rode in with him. Du Val didn't strike me as a man who makes sudden moves without a reason."

The prisoner bleated, "You fellers got to protect me! I don't like all this talk about my getting gunned!"

Ignoring him, the Mountie said, "The reason I was keeping an eye on him is that there's something very odd about that man. For one thing, I don't think he's a Red River breed."