Longarm and the Wyoming Woman

by Tabor Evans

  “We’ll see about that. Outside.”

  Stoneman paused. “Why don’t you bring your friends into my house? It’s a lot warmer and more comfortable than the barn.”

  “Maybe so,” Longarm said. “But right now the barn will do for my purposes. Now move!”

  “You’re a fool,” Stoneman said, contempt dripping from his thin lips. “I always knew you were a fool and that I should have had my head examined for taking you under my wing back when we both wore badges.”

  “We all make mistakes. Now move!”

  Once again they were out in the storm, and Longarm stayed close behind Wade all the way to the barn. They bulled through the big door and fell to the barn floor.

  “Custis!”

  “I’m fine,” Longarm told Addie. “Wade isn’t too happy, though.”

  Stoneman surveyed the gathering, his eyes stopping on Addie. “I should have known you’d be in on this.”

  “What choice did I have?”

  “I made you and Jed Dodson fair offers for your ranches! All you had to do was say yes and none of this would have happened.”

  “Maybe we’re like Custis,” she said. “Maybe we couldn’t be bought.”

  Stoneman started to argue the point, but then his eyes found Ben, Shorty, and Joel Crawford partially hidden back in the shadows. He visibly stiffened and his face turned red with fury. “You men worked for me! All three of you took my wages. You owe me some goddamn loyalty!”

  Ben and Shorty took a step back, clearly intimidated, but they didn’t respond. Young Crawford, however, pushed himself up from the hay he was lying on and said, “You’re gonna hang, Mr. Stoneman. You’re no good and now I can see that as clear as day.”

  “Kid, I always knew that I’d made a mistake hiring you,” Stoneman hissed. “I should have run you off months ago because you don’t have any guts.”

  Crawford wasn’t intimidated. “Mr. Stoneman, I rode side by side with Casey and the other men you sent to kill the marshal. I had as much sand in my craw as any of ’em, but they’re all dead now and somehow I’m alive. I didn’t run in the face of the marshal’s shotgun . . . so you’re wrong because I had both guts and luck.”

  “You won’t think you’re so lucky when I finish with you,” Stoneman warned, his voice shaking with anger. “And neither will you two!” he yelled, stabbing a forefinger at Ben and Shorty.

  Longarm stepped up and said, “Shut up and sit down, Wade. Another word out of your mouth and I’ll feed you the barrel of this gun and paint the barn wall with your brains.”

  Wade Stoneman went over to a water bucket, which he turned upside down and sat upon. His eyes roved back and forth burning with hatred. “Custis, I’m not only going to take you down, but I’m going to make you suffer before you die.”

  Longarm raised the shotgun and said, “Open your mouth just one more time.”

  Stoneman clamped his mouth shut.

  For a few moments, no one said a word, and then Shorty spoke. “Marshal, what happened to Fang?”

  “Fang got timid real quick when I fired a round over his head,” Longarm said. “I doubt he’ll ever be worth much again as a guard dog.”

  “What about the men in the bunkhouse?” Ben asked. “In another hour or two they’ll be up, and this barn is the first place they’ll come to check up on and feed the ranch horses.”

  “I know,” Longarm said. “And when they come in here, we’ll disarm them one by one.”

  Stoneman started to make a comment, but suddenly changed his mind when Longarm swung the shotgun in his direction.

  “So what do we do now?” Addie asked.

  “We wait for the ones in the bunkhouse to come to us,” Longarm told her. “We just sit tight for the next hour or two.”

  “I hope this storm passes soon,” Addie told him. “I feel like, if the sun would shine again, the world and what we still have to do would seem a whole lot easier.”

  “It will be,” Longarm assured her. “Have faith, Addie. Everything is going to work out fine.”

  “I sure hope so,” she said, trying to sound confident. “But a lot could still go wrong.”

  “You’re a worrier, Addie. Worrying too much is bad for your health.”

  “So is what we’re doing here.”

  Longarm smiled, and replaced the spent shotgun shell he’d fired in Stoneman’s bedroom. He drew a cigar out of his pocket and lit a match with his thumbnail. The smoke tasted good and the deep cold was finally leaving the marrow of his bones. If he could have, he’d have liked to have a shot of whiskey to help speed the warming process. But Longarm figured that whiskey could wait until he had the last of Wade’s gunmen disarmed and ready to sing to a judge in Cheyenne.

  Chapter 19

  It was impossible to tell when dawn finally arrived that cold, bitter Wyoming morning. But little by little, the storm abated and a weak sun pushed through the torn gray clouds. Longarm yawned several times, then consulted his pocket watch and announced, “It’s almost six o’clock. I’d expect the bunkhouse boys will be arriving soon.”

  “They’ve already overslept,” Shorty informed him. “It’s freezing in that lousy drafty bunkhouse even with the potbellied stove going, and nobody wants to get up in the night to feed the damn thing.”

  “I did,” Ben argued with unconcealed bitterness. “I was always feeding it when the rest of you lazy assholes slept in your warm bedrolls.”

  “Oh, shut up!” Stoneman groused, looking anxious and tired. “None of you are worth the powder to blow you to bits. Casey and I were the only ones . . .”

  He stopped, realizing that he was putting a noose around his own neck with his own loose tongue. Glancing at Longarm, he said, “Casey and I were the only ones that had any balls in this outfit.”

  “Casey is dead and buried along with three others you sent,” Longarm told him.

  “How’d you do it?” Stoneman asked.

  “Kill them?” Longarm stifled another yawn.

  “That’s right.”

  “That shotgun I unleashed in your bedroom is my great equalizer,” Longarm told him. “And it sure played hell on your dog and fancy headboard.”

  “Damn you! That four-poster was imported all the way from Italy! Cost me over a thousand dollars!”

  “Well,” Longarm said, not even bothering to sound sympathetic, “you won’t be using it anymore, so I wouldn’t give it much thought.”

  “We’ll see. We’ll just see.”

  Longarm had been keeping a close eye on the barn doors, and now he saw them starting to be pulled open. “Addie, put your gun on Wade,” he whispered, jumping to his feet and hurrying over to stand next to the big double doors. “We’ve finally got visitors.”

  Two cowboys struggled to pull open the door because of piled snow. When they had pried it open about a foot, they squeezed inside only to be grabbed and hurled to the dirt floor by Longarm. “Good morning. Don’t move or I’ll blow your heads off!”

  The pair were in no mind to move when they saw Longarm and the size of the shotgun barrels. After disarming them, he tied them up and said, “How many more of you are there in the bunkhouse?”

  “Don’t tell him anything!” Wade roared.

  “I’m the one with the scattergun and my finger on the triggers,” he told the two men. “Who do you think you should answer to? Me, or Wade?”

  “You,” one of the men stammered. “There are two left in the bunkhouse. Art and Clem.”

  “If you’re lying, I’ll kill them and then I’ll come back here and kill you,” Longarm warned.

  “Okay. Okay! There are three! Three men. Honest to God!”

  “All right then,” Longarm said, satisfied. “Addie, I’m going to collect those three in the bunkhouse. Don’t let any of these so much as scratch.”

  “I won’t.”

  Longarm bulled outside to stare up at the pitiful sunrise. He followed boot tracks through two feet of fresh snow, and found the three remaining men sound asleep in the bun
khouse, which was freezing cold. It didn’t take long before Longarm had them tied up and standing in the barn.

  “Looks like quite a crowd,” Longarm said more to himself than to anyone else. “Boys, we’ll make a grand procession when we all ride into Cheyenne and stop at the courthouse. I hope the marshal there has a big jail cell and food budget.”

  “We’ll need something to eat for the trip down,” Addie said. “It’s going to be a cold and hard ride south.”

  “I expect that Mr. Stoneman has a full larder,” Longarm told her. “Why don’t you go to the house and see what you can find in his kitchen for our trip to Cheyenne.”

  Addie nodded in agreement and left the barn. Longarm said, “Ben. I’m going to cut you and Shorty some slack. I want you to saddle up enough horses to get us all down to Cheyenne.”

  “Yes, sir!”

  “You’ll never get me there,” Stoneman vowed.

  “We’ll see,” Longarm told his ex-partner. “We’ll just see. And if anyone tries anything, I’ll make them walk through the damn snow all the way into Cheyenne, and I don’t care if they do freeze their feet and toes. Is that clearly understood?”

  Everyone except Stoneman nodded.

  “What about me?” Joel Crawford asked from his place on the pile of hay. “With all these wounds, I’m not sure I can ride that far.”

  Longarm had already given that very same question a good deal of thought. “Joel,” he said, “you’re the only one of the bunch we’re leaving behind. You can stay at Wade’s ranch house until you get strong enough to take a horse and ride away.”

  The wounded young man stared. “You’re just gonna set me free, Marshal?”

  “That’s about the size of it,” Longarm told him. “Go to Betsy and marry the girl. Take her to California and don’t ever get crossways with the law again.”

  “No, sir! Thank you, Marshal!” Joel Crawford was so happy that tears of gratitude filled his eyes. “Maybe . . . maybe I’ll become a marshal just like you.”

  “I’d not recommend it,” Longarm told the kid.

  Stoneman wasn’t a bit touched with sentiment and growled, “I’ll find you someday, Crawford. Nobody quits on me and gets off clean.”

  Crawford swallowed hard and Longarm said, “Pay him no mind. He’ll be hanging by the neck in a few weeks.”

  Longarm waited for Addie to come back while Ben and Shorty saddled and bridled all the horses they’d need for the journey south.

  One of the cowboys said, “Could we at least get some gloves and extra clothes, Marshal?”

  “No. You’re already wearing a coat.”

  “But it’s mighty damn cold out there and it’s a long ride!”

  Stoneman shouted, “Quit sniveling, you sorry bastard!”

  Longarm was amused to watch Wade and his men bicker. They all looked plumb fit to be tied. He kept his eye on everyone and the shotgun up and ready just in case anyone was going to try to be a hero.

  When the barn door opened behind him, he didn’t even turn, but asked, “Did you get all the food we’ll need, Addie?”

  “Drop the shotgun, Marshal, or I’ll pull the trigger!”

  Longarm twisted around to see a tall old woman holding a hammer-cocked six-gun to Addie’s head.

  “Drop it or I’ll shoot!”

  Longarm swore to himself. He knew that, if he dropped his gun, Wade would kill him for certain, and probably Addie and young Joel Crawford as well. And yet, he could see that the old woman wasn’t bluffing. She’d kill Addie and then she’d try to kill him as well.

  A losing hand, he thought with an overpowering sense of despair. I’m suddenly holding a losing hand.

  Longarm had no choice but to drop the shotgun. He heard Wade’s chilling laughter, and then the man said, “I guess you didn’t know that she’s my momma, did you!”

  “No,” Longarm answered. “And I don’t think anyone else in this room knew it either. But I should have guessed a man like you would treat his own mother like poor hired help.”

  Wade bellowed with laughter and said, “Nice going, Ma.”

  She smiled a half-toothless grin that sent icy chills up and down Longarm’s spine. “We’ll get you untied and then you’d better just kill ’em right quick, son.”

  “I will, after I have a little fun with them.”

  Moments later, Wade was untied and holding the eight-gauge shotgun in his large fists. Longarm and Addie were backed up against the barn wall and unless Longarm was mistaken, they were both about to suffer and then die.

  Chapter 20

  Longarm glanced sideways at Addie, and then immediately wished that he hadn’t. She was white with fear, and so he reached out and took her hand. He squeezed it, hoping it would give the young woman the courage to die well.

  “I’ll stand with you to the end,” Addie whispered as she bravely lifted her chin.

  “I’m afraid your end won’t be long,” Stoneman said a moment before he swung the butt of the shotgun and knocked Longarm up against the barn wall. Longarm tried to regain his balance, but Wade used the heavy gun’s butt against him again, viciously slamming it into his stomach.

  Longarm tasted bile and crumpled to his knees. The first blow had struck him in the side of the head and his head was reeling. Stoneman kicked him in the balls and Longarm pitched over onto his stomach, violently retching.

  Stoneman laughed, and Longarm knew it was almost over.

  “Get up!” Stoneman ordered. “Get to your goddamn feet!”

  Longarm took a few fast, deep breaths, and somehow he made it to his feet. He wobbled like a drunk, and it was all he could do to focus on his enemy.

  “After I’m done with the marshal, I’m taking you into my house,” Stoneman told Addie with a terrible smile. “I’m going to show you that Italian bed that Custis ruined, and then I’m going to show you what I do to women in that bed.”

  Addie retreated along the rough barn wall, and ended up standing beside the prostrate Joel Crawford. “No,” she hissed, head shaking back and forth. Eyes defiant. “You can shoot me right now, but I’m not going anywhere!”

  Stoneman went for her. He grabbed Addie by the throat and started to pull her to him, but then Joel Crawford clamped a hand on his boot top and pulled with all his strength just as Addie shoved the rancher backward.

  Stoneman lost his balance, dropped the shotgun, and toppled to the barn floor. Longarm lunged at the man and landed on top of him, swinging his fists like sledgehammers.

  They rolled, gouging and punching. Normally, Longarm could probably have overpowered Stoneman, but given that his head was spinning and he’d just been kicked in the balls, he didn’t have his normal strength, and he could feel Wade getting the better of him. Now the man was on top, and he was both heavy and extremely powerful.

  Addie snatched up the fallen shotgun and pointed it at the two big men, her eyes wild with panic.

  “No!” Longarm shouted, certain that she’d lost her mind and was going to shoot.

  Addie realized what Longarm meant. She dropped the shotgun, grabbed a pitchfork, and raised it high overhead. Then, because Stoneman was on top and beating Longarm, she stabbed downward with the pitchfork and impaled him with four wickedly sharp tines.

  The big rancher had one hand on Longarm’s throat, choking him, and a fist lifted to slam downward into Longarm’s exposed, bleeding face. But when the pitchfork skewered him, Stoneman arched his broad back and screamed like an animal.

  Longarm rolled out from under the man, grabbed the shotgun, and fired in one smooth, instinctive movement.

  And just like that, Stoneman’s head was gone.

  The old woman shrieked and fired at Longarm, missing. Longarm unleashed the second shot, and blew her completely off her feet and up against the barn wall. She hung there, impaled by blood, bone, and lead.

  Addie and Longarm glanced at each other, and then she looked to Joel Crawford, who had found a gun.

  “What’s your move, kid?” Longarm asked, knowi
ng it was all up to Crawford.

  The kid’s hand was shaking and he couldn’t seem to stop staring at the headless man and the old woman pinned to the wall with buckshot.

  “Joel?” Addie asked, her voice a trembling question.

  He blinked, and then tossed the gun to Longarm, croaking, “I want to marry Betsy and take her to California. If that’s still okay, Marshal.”

  Longarm still felt like retching, but he did manage a thin smile as he collected the gun and answered, “That’s fine, Joel. Just plenty damn . . . fine.”

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