Longarm - Longarm. Part 9

"We in this together? You'll split us in?"

"Cedric, I'm tempted as h.e.l.l to lie to you, considering the choices I got, but you're too smart to think I can divide a reward I'm not allowed to accept."

"h.e.l.l, who cares about the paper on that p.i.s.sant, Cotton Younger? It's Jesse James that me and Mabel's out to collect on! He knows where the James boys are!"

"You figure I'd let you get it out of him, Apache style?"

"Don't have to. Already made the deal. Like I said, us little folks can get into the d.a.m.ndest nooks and crannies."

"You talked to the prisoner in the jail?"

"Sure. Got under the floor last night and we jawed a while through a knothole. He don't like the idea of getting lynched all that much, so I convinced him his only way out of it was to make a deal. His life in exchange for the present address of Frank or Jesse. He says he don't know where Frank is, but that he knows how to get to Jesse. Half a loaf is better than none, I always say."

"Where'd he say Cousin Jesse was?"

"He didn't. Said he'd tell us once he was clear of Crooked Lance and crazy cowboys with ropes. You think I'd bother to spring the rascal if I knew?"

Longarm took out a cheroot and lit it, running the conversation through his mind again to see where the yarn didn't hold together. He knew the little bounty hunter would lie when it was in his favor, but what he said made sense. Longarm nodded and said, "All right, we get him out right after sundown and make a run for it. You'd better head out early With Mabel and your buckboard. I'll join you at the first pa.s.s and we'll hole up somewhere. You'll get your talk with Cotton Younger and then we split up. They'll probably come boiling up out of this valley like hornets when they find him gone, but you and your woman will be riding into Bitter Creek innocent, and I know my way around in the woods at night."

"Was you born that stupid or did a cow step on your head, Longarm?"

"You know a better way?"

"Of course. I got a key to the jailhouse, d.a.m.n it!"

"You stole Pop Wade's key? How come he ain't missed it yet?"

"Because I never stole it, big brain! I had Mabel jaw with the guards whilst I took a beeswax impression, standing d.a.m.n near under Pop as he stared down the front of Mabel's dress. I got some tools in my valise, and once I had the impression..."

"I know how you make a duplicate key, d.a.m.n it. I'll allow it makes it a mite easier, but not much. We still got to get you and your woman out safe while I bang the guards' heads together some."

"Mabel's going to take care of the guards for us."

"Both of 'em at once?"

"Don't be nasty, d.a.m.n it. Part of their play is to keep the drinking and whooping going on all afternoon and long past sundown. Mabel's gonna mosey over, sort of drunk-like, with a bottle. If you meet her and she offers you a drink, don't take it. Mabel's still p.i.s.sed off at you for the way you spoke to her in Bitter Creek."

"So she gives them knockout drops, we unlock the door and slip the prisoner out quiet, leaving the necktie party to discover things ain't as they seem, long after the four of us are gone. Yep, it's a good plan."

"We'd best split up and meet later, then. Part of our plan is that you and me ain't been all that friendly. I'll give you the high sign after supper and we'll move in around... when, nine o'clock?"

"Sounds about right. Summer sun'll be down about eight. Gives us an hour of dark to spring the prisoner, maybe two, three 'fore they come for him and all h.e.l.l breaks loose. I'll see you at supper, Cedric. My regards to the misses."

"You fun like that in front of Mabel and it can cost you, Longarm. I'm used to being hoorahed. Used to having a woman with round heels, too. But she can be a caution when she's riled at you, and you've riled her enough already, hear?"

Longarm looked down at the little man, catching the hurt in his eyes before he hid it behind his big cigar. Longarm said, "What I said was said without thinking and without double-meaning, Mister Hanks. Whatever you and your woman have between you ain't my business and I'd take it neighborly if we could forget what happened the other night in Bitter Creek. What I done, I done because I was a man and a man takes what's offered. Had I known she was your wife, I wouldn't have. Now that I know she is, I never aim to again."

"Jesus, Longarm, are you apologizing to me?"

"I am, if you think you got one coming."

The midget suddenly seemed to choke on his cigar, grinned, and held out a little hand, saying, "By G.o.d, pardner! Put 'er there!"

CHAPTER 13.

Supper took what seemed a million years, complicated by the terrible cooking of the Stover women and the fact that one of them, at least, was probably planning to crawl into bed with him as soon as she dared. Longarm watched both the mother and daughter for some sign, but neither one met his gaze, and he felt less guilty about what had happened. He'd likely never know wich of them it had been, but whichever, she was not only a great lay but d.a.m.ned good at her little game. He wondered how many other times it had happened, and how, if it was the daughter, she kept from getting in a family way. He'd decided she must know about such matters. But, try as he would, he couldn't puzzle out her ident.i.ty. They both had the same lean figures and onion head. The one he'd been with had been experienced as h.e.l.l, but that didn't prove it was the mother. The daughter was no spring chicken, either, and if she'd done it before, she'd had more practice than most spinsters who looked like poor plain sparrows. He hoped she'd know how to take care of herself, though, because anything he'd fathered with either one figured to be one ugly little b.a.s.t.a.r.d!

There was little table conversation as outside, from time to time, a gun went off or some cowhands tore by at a dead run, whooping like Indians. Neither the midget nor his wife looked up when Captain Walthers sighed and asked, "How long do you imagine they'll carry on like that? You'd think they'd never had a funeral here before!"

Longarm waited until Cedric excused himself from the table and made as if to go outside to answer a call of nature. Longarm followed at a discreet distance, and on the veranda, Cedric slipped him the key, saying, "Mind you wait for Mabel to get them a.s.s-over-teakettle. I'll move the buckboard out along the trail a mile or so and wait. Mabel gives 'em the bottle and lights out to join me. Give 'em fifteen minutes to pa.s.s out before you do anything dumb. You figure on running for it or riding him out?"

"I'll play my tune by ear. Might be riding double, 'less I can steal a mount for Younger."

"All right. You won't see us. We'll be hid. I'll watch the trail and whistle you in. See you... when? Nine-fifteen?"

"Give us till nine-thirty before you know I failed. If we don't make it, you and the lady just come back from your ride as if nothing happened. I might need help or I might be dead. I'll expect you to do what you have to, either way."

"I told Mabel you apologized. She says she ain't mad at you no more."

Longarm left the midget and went to his room. He gathered his possessions and threw them out the window to the narrow s.p.a.ce between the hotel and the livery shed. Then he locked the door from the inside, climbed out the window, and picked up his belongings before moving quietly to the horses.

His bay nickered a greeting and Longarm put a hand over its muzzle to quiet it. He saddled and bridled the bay and was about to lead it out when something whispering endearments plastered itself against him. He steadied the thin woman in his arms and whispered, "I'm going out for a little ride, honey. Meet me later in my room."

"Just once! Just do it once right now. I want! I need!"

"Honey, the whole d.a.m.n place is up and about! Have you gone crazy?"

"Yes, crazy for your pretty thing inside me! Please darling, I have to have it or I'll scream!"

Longarm considered knocking her out, but it didn't seem too gallant and, besides, he couldn't see her tiny jaw to hit it. She was fumbling at his fly, now, whimpering like a b.i.t.c.h in heat. He could feel that she wore nothing under the cotton dress. He could tell she was going out of her fool head, too!

Muttering, he led her into a stall and pressed her against the rough boards, letting her fish his half-erect p.e.n.i.s from his fly as he loved her up and kissed her to shut her fool mouth. He had to brace his hands against the planks, but she was equal to the occasion, raising her hem with one hand as she played with him with the other.

He was a tall man and she was short and standing up could be the hard way but she must have done it this way before, too, for she raised one leg, caught him around the waist with amazing skill, and literally lifted herself into position, throwing the other leg around him as he slid into her conveniently positioned hungry moistness.

"Keerist!" He marveled as she settled her lean thighs on his hip bones. She moaned with l.u.s.t as she gyrated wildly with her tailbone against the rough planks. Longarm moved his feet back, swore when he felt he'd stepped on a horse t.u.r.d, and started pounding as hard as he dared without knocking down the stall. He managed to satisfy both of them, for the moment, and as she slid to her knees to talk French, he managed to get her to her unsteady feet and moving in the right direction by soothing, "Later, in my room. We'll do it undressed and I'll lick you to death besides!"

She scampered away in the dark with a knowing chuckle as Longarm got his breath back and wondered how much time he'd lost.

He led the bay out, tethered it at a safe distance, and came back. He worked mostly by feel as he saddled the captain's walking horse with Walthers's own army saddle, bridled it with the headgear he found, and led it out behind him, soothing the nervous walker with honeyed words. He recovered his own mount and led both over to the creek, where he led them across and tethered them to a willow.

Then he splashed back, crossed the inky darkness of the Stover grounds, and after a long, cautious looksee, scooted across the road. He worked his way through the shadows to the back of the log jail. The c.h.i.n.ked corner logs afforded an easy climb to the almost-flat roof. Longarm crept across the roof until he could peer over at the two guards by the front door. Then he settled down to listen.

It took forever before one of the guards asked, "Any sign of him?"

It's too early, Slim. The gal said he'd be coming about nine."

"We're to be knocked out, ain't we? What say we sort of scrootch down?"

"You scrootch down, d.a.m.n it. We got more'n an hour to kill 'fore he comes over from the hotel."

"I wish we had a man inside. That big b.a.s.t.a.r.d's faster'n spit on a stove with that.44 of his, and I ain't never gunned n.o.body before."

"Don't worry, I have. He won't have a chance. I'll just blast him with both barrels of number-nine buck as he bends over to see if I'm sleepin' sound."

Longarm decided he'd heard as much as he needed to. So he gathered his legs under him, dropped off the roof, and materialized before their startled eyes, pistol-whipping the one with the shotgun into unconsciousness as he warned the other, quietly, "You say s.h.i.t, and you're dead."

The frightened guard didn't do anything but drop his Henry rifle to the earth without a word. Longarm knew that the key the midget had slipped him was probably worthless, so he said, "Open her up."

"I don't have a key, mister."

"Are you funning with me, boy?"

"Honest to Gawd! Pop Wade has the key, not us!"

"Is Younger inside?"

"Yes, but..."

And that was all he had to say about it as Longarm knocked him out, slid him down the logs to rest by his partner, and went to work on the door.

One blade of Longarm's jacknife would have gotten him arrested if he'd been searched by a lawman while not carrying a badge. The cheap, rusty lock was no trouble for his pick. He opened the door silently and went in, squinting in the darkness as he called out, quietly, "Younger, you just keep still and don't say a word till I tell you to."

"What's going on?"

"That was three words, you son of a b.i.t.c.h. Say one more and I'll feed your heart to the hawks!"

There was no further comment from the improvised cell as Longarm picked the lock. He told the prisoner to come out, locked his wrists behind him with handcuffs, and taking the youth by the elbow, said, "You come this way and make sure it's silent as well as sudden."

The prisoner tripped over one of the unconscious guards and gasped, "Who done that?"

"I did. Shut up and stand right there while I roll 'em inside and lock the door. All that idle chatter of yours is making me testy as h.e.l.l!"

It only took half a minute to shove the guards inside and lock the door a second time. He grabbed Younger's elbow again and led him at a trot across the road, through the Stovers' grounds, and across the creek. He boosted the prisoner up into his own saddle, knowing his own bay would be predictable on the lead. Then he climbed aboard Captain Walthers's walker and led out at a brisk pace as the prisoner yelped, "Jesus! I can't ride like this! There's a big slit in this saddle an' my b.a.l.l.s is caught in it!"

"You just hush and do the best you can, boy. My orders are to bring you in dead or alive. You yell one more time and I don't have to tell you which it'll be."

The prisoner fell silent, or tried to, as Longarm followed the trail he'd followed du Val-Brown along by memory. He managed to miss riding through a tree, but the branches whipped both of them in the dark as Longarm set as fast a pace as he dared to in the dark. Once the prisoner announced, apologetically, that he was about to fall off.

Longarm said, "You fall and I'll kill you," and his horsemanship seemed to improve miraculously.

Longarm led his charge to the clearing he remembered and beyond, guiding himself by the stars as he glimpsed them through the overhead branches. They weren't on any trail he knew of. The riders from the valley would know every trail for a good two day's ride from Crooked Lance.

They rode through timber and they rode through brush. A couple of times they almost rode over cliffs but Longarm trusted his mount to see well enough to avoid obvious suicide, given a gentle hand on the reins and not going faster than its night vision could cope with.

As they topped a rise high above the valley, Longarm reined in and looked back and down. They were tOo far away to hear more than an occasional rallying shot, but little lights were moving back and forth on the valley floor. Longarm chuckled and said, "They've missed us. But there's no way to try to read our sign before sunup, so we'll rest the critters here for a minute and be on our waY."

The prisoner decided it was safe to speak and asked, "What in thunder is going on?"

"I'm not sure. Couple of folk was setting me up to get killed. Before that, they told me plans were afoot to do the same for you. Could have been true. Could have been another lie. As you see, it don't make no nevermind, now."

"You're the federal man called Longarm, ain't YOU? Am I ever glad to see you! You see, it's all a misunderstanding, so you can take these irons off me, now."

"That'll be the day, boy. You're wearing them cuffs till I have you safe in federal custody, which just might take a while. I'll help you when you have to eat or take a leak. You ain't the first man I've rode like this with, Younger."

"G.o.d d.a.m.n it, my name is Jones!"

"Whatever. Like I said, that ain't my job. I was sent to transport you back to Denver, and since both of our critters are still breathing, we'd best be on our way. Hold onto the cantle with your fingers if that McClellan's not your style. Didn't you ride a McClellan when you were with Terry on the Rosebud, a few years back?"

"I don't know what you're talking about. I never deserted from no army!"

"Now, did I say anything about desertion? You stick to any yarn you aim to."

"It ain't no yarn, G.o.d d.a.m.n it! You got the wrong man!"

"Well, if I find out I have, once we get you before a judge in Denver, I'll apologize like a gent to you. Meanwhile, Jones, James, Younger, or whomsoever, that's where you and me are headed, come h.e.l.l, high water, or a full Sioux uprising!"

CHAPTER 14.

Longarm was tough. Ten times tougher than the good Lord made most men, but his prisoner was only human, and the horses were only horses. By sunup, he could see he was running all into the ground and reined to a halt in a tangle of bigleaf maple. He helped his prisoner down and Cotton Younger simply fell to the damp leves and closed his eyes, falling asleep on his side with his raw, chained wrists behind him. Longarm removed the bits from the animals' pink-foamed mouths after hobbling each with a length of latigo leather. He didn't think either one was in condition to walk away, let alone run, but a front hoof lashed to a hind would discourage them from bolting, should they get their wind back before he was ready to move on.

He'd watered both mounts an hour before dawn at a chance run of snow-melt, so they were happy to drop their heads and graze the hurt from their muzzles in the sweet-scented orchard gra.s.s and wild onion growing in the dappled shade. He unsaddled both, spread the saddle blankets over tree limbs for the wind to dry, then found a patch of sunlight where he placed the saddles bottoms-up. Some said it wasn't good for the sweat-soaked leather, but Longarm had heard that those little bugs Professor Pasteur was writing about over in France, weren't partial to sun baths. He'd risk a cracked saddle skirt against a festered saddle sore any day. He'd started this play by riding out with the two best mounts he knew of in Crooked Lance. He was depending on keeping them that way.

Captain Walthers's tall mount, after eating a few bites of greenery, was already leaning against a tree trunk, head down and eyes closed. The army man hadn't fed it enough oats for its size, most likely. The older army bay he'd borrowed from the remount section he had picked because he looked like a tough one, and he seemed to be living up to Longarm's hopes. He was nearly worn out, but still stuffing his gut like the wise old cuss he was. there was no telling when they'd be taking a break in such good grazery again.

Longarm considered the wild onion and other herbage as he rubbed both mounts down with Captain Walthers's spare cotton drawers from the saddle bags the fool had left attached. Here in the shade it was choice and green, but hardly touched, except for an occasional rabbit-nibble. Longarm saw the healed-over trunk scars where a long-dead elk had rubbed the velvet from his antlers on a good day to fight for love. Once, a grizzly had sharpened his claws on a tree beyond. The sign was fresher. Maybe from early that spring. Longarm patted his mount's rump and said, "Yep, we're on virgin range, oldtimer. Don't know just where in h.e.l.l it is, but n.o.body's run cows through here in living memory."

Leaving all three of his charges for the moment, Longarm circled through the shapeless ma.s.s of timber, fixing its layout in his mind for possible emergencies. He came to an outcropping of granite, studied it, and decided it would be a waste of time to climb up for a looksee. Even if the top rose above the surrounding treetops, which it didn't, there'd be nothing to see worth mentioning. The land was flattening out as they approached the south-pa.s.s country. If a posse from Crooked Lance had found their trail yet, it would be too far back to be visible on gently rolling timberland. Longarm went back to the sleeping prisoner, grabbed him by the heels, and dragged him over to the outcropping, as he half-awoke, complaining, "What the h.e.l.l?"

"Ain't smart to bed down next to the critters." Longarm explained, adding, "Horses nicker to one another at a distance. I figure that if ours get to calling back and forth with others skulking in on us... never mind. If you knew a d.a.m.n thing about camping in unfriendly country you'd have never got caught by folks who weren't even looking for you."

He placed the prisoner on dry forest duff, strode over to the granite outcropping, and hunkered down with his back against its gray wall, bracing the Winchester across his lap with his knees up, folding his arms across them, and lowering his head for forty winks, Mexican style. He'd almost dozed off when the prisoner called out, "I can't sleep with my hands behind me like this, d.a.m.n it!"

"You can sleep standing on your head if you're really tired, boy. Now put a sock in it and leave me be. I'm a mite tuckered myself, and by the way, I'm a light sleeper. You move from there in the next half hour or so and you'll be buried a yard from wherever I find YOU."

"Listen, lawman, you're treating an innocent man cruel and unusual!"