by Evans, Tabor
They rode, Longarm in the middle, and one of the two men on each side. The man on the pinto was on his left. Longarm said, “Where are we headed?”
“Well, we are headed to find out if you’re going to see Mr. Ashton. The straw boss will make that decision.”
“Why? Ain’t that guy in the black hat the foreman?”
“He’s one of them. But the man that he’s talking about, Mr. Early, is higher than he is.”
“What do you all have? Ranks like you do in the army?”
The man on the pinto gave Longarm a hard long look. “You sure ask a lot of questions, mister,” he said.
The outlines of the house and the outbuildings that had been so dim in the distance were now becoming clear. Longarm was not particularly surprised at the size of the house. He had never seen a castle except in pictures in books, but he felt like he was looking at one as they rode closer and closer. He didn’t know why a man needed that big a place to live in, except if he had a lot of wives. But since this wasn’t Mormon country and he didn’t figure that Brigham Young was who he was going to see, it still left him puzzled as to why a man would want to sink that much money into just a house. You could only sleep in one room and one bed at a time. You could only sit in one room and you could only eat in one room. So what he wanted with the rest of them, Longarm couldn’t figure.
He saw a man leave one of the barns that lay some distance from the house. The man was mounted, and he came riding directly toward them. As he neared, Longarm could see that he was a man close to forty. If anything, maybe a little over it. He was wearing a blue suit of clothes, complete with vest and a four-in-hand tie. You didn’t see that very often except with preachers.
Longarm said to man at his left, “Is this going to be the man that can say yes or no to my visit? I forgot what that fellow back there called him.”
“Yes, that’s Mr. Early. He can say yes or no to just about anything around here next to Mr. Ashton.”
“Well, I hope we get along all right.”
“If it were me, I’d see to it.”
By now, they had slowed their horses, and pulled them to a stop as the man in the suit came riding up. To his surprise, Longarm saw that he was slightly portly and had a genial face. His head was topped by a pearl-gray, narrow-brimmed Stetson hat. He looked like he’d be more at home behind a desk than on the deck of a cow horse.
The man to Longarm’s left said respectfully, “Good day, Mr. Early. Got a visitor to the place. We’ve got to ask your permission about him.”
The genial-looking man glanced at Longarm and half smiled. He said, “The name is Joel Early. And who might you be, sir?”
Longarm said, “My name is Custis Long. I’m in the high-class horseflesh business. Sometimes, I even handle blooded stock. I was passing through the town of Silverton and I heard that Mr. Ashton was sometimes in the market for good horses. I’ve got them and I will sell them, but these gentlemen here don’t want me to go directly up there.” He paused and glanced to his left and then to his right. “I don’t know exactly why, but it appears that I need your permission.”
Early laughed slightly. “Aw, that’s just the way these old boys are, you know. Kind of the way the boss wants it. Mr. Ashton is a busy man, and he’s a wealthy man. I don’t mind you knowing that, even though you’re trying to sell him something. If we just let any Tom, Dick, and Harry come riding on this place, well, there would be a line out his front door and plumb on up here to where we are standing. So, I kind of make a selection of who I let go in to see him and who doesn’t. Sound about right to you?”
Longarm was doing his best to appear to be a horse trader. He said, “Well, sure. You’ve got to keep the ribbon clerks out. I can see that. It makes sense if the man is busy and has important work to do. I figured that the people that I sell to are just as busy and just as important, and I don’t have to go through a receiving line to get to see them. If you take my meaning.”
Early still looked congenial. “Well, you’ll just have to forgive us for the way we do things. You say you’ve got good blooded stock, is that correct?”
“Yes, sir! I do! I’ve got some horses with some Kentucky blood in them, some with thoroughbred in them. I’ve even got some good quarter horses.”
“And where would all these horses be, Mr. Long? Was that the correct name?”
“Yes, sir. That’s my name. These horses are in Oregon. I’m on my way there now. I was just passing through on the train and got off to take a rest, and heard about this roost up here and thought I’d come investigate it.”
Early nodded his head at the gray mare. He said, “Is that an example of the kind of blood stock you are talking about?”
Longarm laughed appreciatingly. “Well, no, sir. No, sir. Of course not. This is just my own personal horse, one of several that I use. She is a using horse. She’s gentle and calm and, besides that, she likes to ride the train. So, when I’ve sold all the other horses I brought, I still have her to get around on. If I hadn’t had her this morning when I got up, I’d have had to rent a horse or I’d have had to walk out here.”
Early chuckled. “Well, that makes right good sense to me. Now me, I’m not much of a horse man. I don’t know the bloodlines, don’t know all the finer points, if you take my meaning, Mr. Long. But I will warn you that Mr. Ashton is. From time to time, he has raised horses. So, you want to be on your toes when you talk to him about horseflesh. It’s a subject he does know.”
“Does that mean that I can go and see him?”
Early looked at the two men with Longarm. He said, “I don’t see why a gentleman in the horse business shouldn’t be allowed to see Mr. Ashton. Do ya’ll?”
Both of the men answered in unison. “No, sir. Not if you say so, Mr. Early.”
“Well then, why don’t you take the gentleman up there and help him in to see Mr. Ashton?”
The man to Longarm’s left said, “We’ll tend to that, Mr. Early. Thank you, sir.”
They put the spurs to their horses almost simultaneously and started forward at a slow lope. Longarm glanced back. The man in the blue suit was just sitting his horse, watching them as they headed for the house. Somehow it gave him an uneasy feeling.
Chapter 4
A Chinese man in a white coat and what looked to Longarm to be velvet shoes let him in the big wooden front door. Longarm walked into a long hall with polished floors and pictures hung on the walls. He had expected nothing less, for as they had ridden up to the front of the house, he’d been struck by its size. It was built mostly from natural rock, and appeared to be two-storied and at least a hundred and fifty feet long, maybe that much deep. Standing in the hallway, he could see a curved staircase running around the wall to the upstairs. The two men that had been with him had stayed outside, settling down on the steps to smoke and wait for him to come back out. One of them had warned him to watch his manners.
He’d added, “I wouldn’t be lighting up no cigarettes or cigars without being asked to, and I wouldn’t be pouring myself any of that good whiskey Mr. Ashton keeps. If he wants you to have it, he’ll give it to you.”
The houseboy had disappeared, and Longarm stood cooling his heels in the big hall, looking around him. There was a set of double doors to his immediate left. It was through these that the man had disappeared. To the right, Longarm could look through a large opening and see a sitting room, and then beyond that what appeared to be a dining room, and then beyond that what appeared to be another sitting room. He reckoned the bedrooms and whatnot were upstairs. He wondered if the bathrooms were indoors. That was a luxury that very few people in the country could enjoy, but it made sense to him that somebody making his own money would probably be able to afford it.
Longarm kept sweeping his gaze around, noticing the pictures on the wall, noticing the fine drapes. The man had built a lovely place, and Longarm wondered who he enjoyed it with. A place like this couldn’t very well be enjoyed by one’s own self.
A movement caught hi
s eye, and he looked upwards toward the top of the stairs. Just behind the banister off the top story, he caught sight of a woman. She moved almost as soon as he raised his eyes, but he had seen enough to tell that she was a dark-haired beauty with a trace of Spanish blood in her. She had on some kind of dress made out of flowered material. It had only been a second, but he’d seen the bare shoulders and a smooth, lightly tanned bosom beneath the bodice of her gown. But all too quickly she had disappeared. He took a step in the direction of the stairs, but just then the door opened and the Chinese houseboy was back. He motioned Longarm toward the room. “You come. You come see big boss. He see you, fellow.”
Longarm stepped past him, taking off his hat as he did. Hell, he didn’t like taking off his hat, but he was posing as a man selling horses, and that was what a horse trader would do if he was in a rich man’s house.
Longarm walked into what he took to be a library—at least it had enough books to make one. He stopped halfway into the big room and looked around for someone or something he could report to. Just then, the small Chinese man came scuttling by him, went to the far wall, and opened another door. He motioned to Longarm. He said, “You come, please.”
Longarm walked past him, this time into what was clearly an office. There, against the big double window, was a long desk, and behind the desk was a man.
The man was writing with a pen on a piece of paper. He took a moment to finish, blotted his work, and then put his pen down before looking up at Longarm. He said, “Yes? My name is Vernon Ashton.”
Longarm walked forward to the desk. He didn’t offer to sit down, although there were two chairs available. He said, “My name is Custis Long. I’m in the horse business.”
The man leaned back in his chair. “Oh, that’s interesting. I am interested in horses. I like horses. I like to race horses. I like to own horses. I like to see my men mounted on good horses. Do you have good horses, Mr. Long?”
Longarm said, “I sure do.” He was surprised at the look of his host. Vernon Ashton was a small, delicate, middle-aged man with graying hair at the temples. He was wearing an open-necked silk shirt with a suede vest. It was clear that he was not a man who had ever done much hard work in his life. His skin looked as soft as a woman’s. His teeth were white and even.
Vernon Ashton said, “Why don’t you sit down and tell me about your horses? You must have impressed Mr. Early.”
“Why? Because I got by him?”
Ashton laughed in a good-humored way. “Yes. That and the fact that Mr. Early knows a great deal about horses. He wouldn’t have let you in to see me if you didn’t also seem to know a great deal about horses. Tell me, what kind of horses do you handle?”
Longarm settled into an upholstered armchair. He said, “Well, I’ve got several grades. I’ve got your common saddle horse, good for range work. Some of them are good for a ride in the park and some of them are good traveling horses. I’ve got your higher-blooded stock that your gentlemen can ride when they go to church or to the saloon, whichever place they care to go. Then I’ve got some fine-blooded stock, high-stepping some of them, some of them just plain fast.”
Vernon Ashton nodded slowly. “That’s very descriptive, but it hardly tells me about your stock. Where, by the way, do you do business?”
Longarm crossed his legs. “I do business mostly out of my head, wherever I am. I keep my stock in Oregon at a small place called Medford. I was on my way back—I’ve been down south of here—and I stopped off and heard about you. I thought I’d come and see if I had anything you might be interested in having a look at.”
“So, your stock’s in Oregon? You have nothing to show me now?”
Longarm shook his head. “No, and besides that, it would have been impossible for me to have known what you were looking for.”
“That’s true enough.”
“What would you be looking for?”
“I’m looking for blooded stock. Perhaps racing stock. Tell me, do you have any Morgan thoroughbred crosses?”
Longarm slapped his knee. “Happens I do! Got several. Got a couple of geldings and a mare, and I also have a stud.”
“You did understand me to say Morgan thoroughbred crosses, is that correct?”
“Of course I did. I have some quarter-horse thoroughbred crosses, and I have some Morgan thoroughbred crosses.”
“You’ve got thoroughbred Morgan crosses? Tell me, what kind of animal did that produce?”
Longarm was getting in deep water on the blooded stock. He was a veteran stock trader, but he generally didn’t get into those kinds of high-class animals. He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen a Morgan thoroughbred cross. He’d seen Morgans and he’d seen thoroughbreds at race meets, but he had never seen a cross. But he knew that a Morgan was a stayer, and he knew that a thoroughbred was fast, so he said, “Well, you get a stayer with a lot of speed.”
Ashton looked amused. “Is that right?”
“Yes, sir. That’s a fact.”
Ashton said “Tell me, Mr. Long. Who have you sold horses to that I might know?”
Longarm felt distinctly more and more uncomfortable. He thought he might have picked a better disguise than that of a horse trader, but he had traded so many horses that it had seemed natural. His mistake had been allowing the talk to creep into such high-and-mighty bloodlines as Morgans and thoroughbreds and crosses and crosses thereof, of which he knew very little.
He said, “Well, sir, I can’t say exactly who you might know.” His mind raced as he racked his memory trying to think of some rich men in the area that he could name, though he actually didn’t know if any of them were interested in high-blooded horses. He named a couple of mine owners down in Las Cruces, New Mexico, that he had helped out. He named a prominent banker in Denver, and then was promptly rattled that he would name a banker to a supposed counterfeiter. After that, he pulled back and thought of a couple of ranchers in the lower part of Colorado that he knew fairly well. Finally, he ended up saying,
“I’m not a really big operation, Mr. Ashton. I’m what you might call a custom service. You tell me what you want and I’ll go out and find it and sell it to you at a fair price.”
Ashton chuckled again and his eyes narrowed. “By the way,” he said, “I observed you as you came up to the house. That’s a nice-looking gray mare you are riding. Is she a Morgan thoroughbred cross?”
Longarm almost blushed. “Oh, my heavens, no. That old girl is just a using horse that I keep around to take with me when I’m delivering or picking up horses. She’s gentle and handles well and doesn’t cause me any trouble.”
Ashton sat forward. “I see.” There was something about his eyes that seemed to have changed. They seemed narrower, a little harder. He reached out and rang a bell, and in less than a half moment, the Chinese man came shuffling into the room. Ashton said, “Lei Chang, take this gentleman back out. Send in one of the riders that’s out there. I want to give him some instructions.”
He stood and put out his hand. “Thank you for coming, Mr. Long. Perhaps we can do some business. Be sure and give your address or how I can reach you to one of my riders. They will see that I get it.”
Longarm shook the small white soft hand that was offered, trying to be careful not to squeeze too hard. He wondered why Ashton didn’t write down how he could be reached himself, but he supposed that wasn’t how business was done by rich people who counterfeited twenty-dollar bills.
He thanked Ashton for his time, and then turned and followed the Chinese man out through the door through the library, then into the hall, and then out the front door. The Chinese man spoke rapidly to the rider that had been on the pinto horse. He disappeared quickly inside the house.
Longarm turned to the other man. “What the hell is going on?” he said.
The man shrugged. “Beats the hell out of me. Apparently Mr. Ashton wants to talk to him.”
“What are you fellows’ names?”
“It’s none of your business, but his name is Steve and my
name—I guess is George. I guess that’s good enough.”
Longarm said, “Well, there ain’t no use getting huffy about it. I didn’t mean to be sticking my nose into your business. I just thought it would be handy to know what to call you. I think I might be coming back out.”
“Well, there is always a chance of that, I reckon.”
In a few minutes, the man on the pinto horse, now identified as Steve, was back. Without a word, he motioned for them to mount up. In a few moments, they were riding back toward the way they had come. Longarm looked, but he didn’t see the man in the blue suit, Joel Early.
As they rode along, Steve dropped back and motioned for George to join him. He waved Longarm ahead. “You go on,” he said. “Take it slow. We’ll catch up with you. I think my horse has got a rock in his shoe.”
“Need some help with it?”
“No, you just go on. Take it slow.”
Longarm rode on, glancing back over his shoulder. He could see them talking. He didn’t see them fooling with either of the horses’ hooves. He had had a funny feeling ever since he had seen that look on Ashton’s face. The feeling had grown stronger when Steve was sent for, and now it was getting stronger and stronger. Something was wrong, and it wasn’t going to get right any time soon.
He stopped his horse and waited until Steve and George had mounted up and caught up with him. “Anything wrong other than your horse’s hoof?” he said.
Steve said, “No, we just need to be getting along. Let’s move it on up a notch.”
They put their horses into a trot, and then into a slow lope. They went that way about two miles before Steve abruptly pulled his horse down. He said, speaking past Longarm, who was riding in the middle, “George, why don’t you ride on ahead and see if those boys are ready for us. They’re liable to be up there in the rocks. They need to escort Mr. Long on out of here. Why don’t you tear on off up there?”
For answer, the other rider nodded, applied spurs to his horse, and rode on ahead at a hard gallop.