Longarm and the Horse Thief's Daughter

by Tabor Evans

  It helped that she had passed out. Shock, he assumed. Whatever the reason, she was as limp as a rag doll under his hands.

  He stripped the clothes from her, noting in passing that she had a better than merely decent figure and was passingly good to look at. Or would have been if she had not just been shot. As it was. . . .

  The bleeding was light. He took a look at the wound as best he could in the uncertain light. His bullet had struck to the side of her spine and penetrated a lung, just as he had suspected. It might well have hit bone. He could not tell that for sure, but at least if it did, there were no sharp splinters of bone that pierced the heart. He was positive of that because she continued to breathe.

  He placed her on her stomach and wiped away what blood he could. The wound continued to bubble, and her breathing had become labored, so he fashioned a pad from a handkerchief and strapped it in place with strips of cloth torn from a shirt—not one of his favorites, but he hated to lose it nonetheless.

  The woman remained out cold through all of his ministrations, which he counted as a blessing. At least that way he was able to do what needed to be done without her wriggling and fussing.

  He made no attempt to remove the bullet. That was a job best left to a sawbones, who would have the proper probes to accomplish such a task.

  He did need to get her down off this mountain, though, and to a doctor. Either that or shoot her again to finish the job and be done with it.

  Longarm did not seriously consider any such thing, of course, but he was more than mildly peeved that his vacation had to be put on hold while he took this female horse thief down to civilization.

  Get her down there and the sooner the better.

  He cached his packs on top of the mountain to come back for later rather than haul them back down and then up again once he had safely delivered the woman to a doctor; then he picked her up and draped her over the saddle of the brown while he climbed up behind and lifted her into his lap—it was a good thing this civilian saddle was so wide and comfortable—and with the burro trailing behind, he set off down the switchback trail.

  Chapter 10

  It was the middle of the next morning by the time he finally got back down to Silver Plume. The going had been slow because he did not know either the trail or the horse and did not want to wander astray. There were places where stepping off the trail could result in a fall to one’s death.

  The woman had wakened several hours before daybreak and tried to get away from him, so in addition to worrying about the horse and the trail he also had to be concerned with carrying her more or less against her will. Not that she had strength enough to seriously resist him, but she moved around enough to be annoying.

  He had no idea where to take her in Silver Plume, so he headed back to familiar territory with Amanda Carricker.

  He dismounted at the back of her boardinghouse and carried the woman, naked except for the strip of bandages around her chest, up to the back door. It was not locked, so he went on into the kitchen.

  “Mandy! Come help me here. I got . . . I got problems,” he called loudly.

  Both Amanda and LouAnne came in response. The boarders would all be out working at whatever jobs they held, so the women were presumably doing whatever it was that women did in daytime. Both, he noted, were fully dressed and their hair was properly in place, so they had not been screwing. He would not have wanted to interrupt that. Join them perhaps, but not interrupt.

  “Custis? What are you . . . Oh, my.” Amanda rushed to him—to the injured woman, really—and gave the woman a critical inspection. “She’s been shot, Custis.”

  “Yeah, I know. I’m the one that shot her.”

  “But why . . . ?”

  “I woke up an’ she was tryin’ to steal my horse. I shot before I saw it was a woman. Probably wouldn’t have made no difference anyhow. I wasn’t gonna let her steal the horse.”

  “Where did this happen?”

  “Up top o’ that mountain there,” he said, inclining his head toward the back of the house.

  “That must have been hours ago,” Amanda said. “Since she has lived this long after you shot her, she probably will survive. Do you know why she was trying to steal your horse?”

  “Nope. It’s enough to know she was trying to do it. I don’t have to know exactly why.”

  “Carry her into the bedroom there, Custis. LouAnne, do you know where the doctor lives?”

  “No, of course not,” her tall friend said.

  “Then you are in charge of making her comfortable until I get back with the doctor,” Amanda said crisply, taking charge of the situation. “And you, Custis, sit and wait. The local law may want to have a word with you about this.”

  Longarm nodded and carried the unknown woman into Amanda’s bedroom. He placed her down on top of the coverlet and stood back while LouAnne assumed control of things there, first bringing a sheet to cover her nakedness—not that Longarm had been aroused to begin with by the sight of a naked, wounded, and possibly dying woman—then fetching a basin of water to begin sponging away the dried blood on her back.

  The bullet hole, when it was exposed, continued to bubble and pulse with the rhythm of her breathing. Longarm considered that to be a good sign. Especially the part about her breathing.

  LouAnne had the woman lying facedown on the broad bed, cleaned up but still out cold after the shock of the gunshot.

  Amanda returned after ten or fifteen minutes, a young doctor and his bag of potions and medical gadgets in tow.

  “All three of you clear out now,” the doctor ordered. “Let me see what we have here.”

  Longarm turned to go immediately; Amanda and LouAnne were less willing to leave. But then after all, it was their bedroom the unknown woman was inhabiting at the moment.

  Longarm went out back to tend to the horse and the burro. Then he came back and slipped inside the bedroom, trying to be silent and unnoticed. By then the doctor was almost done with his examination. He cleaned the bullet hole and applied a plaster to seal it off. The woman immediately began to breathe more easily now that air was no longer leaking through Longarm’s makeshift attempt at a seal.

  The doctor also put proper bandaging over the plaster and turned the woman onto her back.

  He dug a bottle of laudanum out of his bag and set it on the nightstand. “For pain,” he said. “When she wakes up . . . if she wakes up . . . she will be in great pain. Give her a few drops of this as needed. All right?”

  Amanda and LouAnne both took the instruction seriously. They nodded as one.

  “And what are you doing here?” the doctor demanded of Longarm. “I thought I sent you out already. Are you the husband?”

  “Doctor, I don’t even know who the hell she is. I’m the one that shot her.”

  “Did you have a good reason?”

  “I thought so at the time.”

  “Good, because I intend to report this to the law.”

  “Doc, he is the law. Custis here is a deputy United States marshal,” Amanda told him.

  “He can tell that to the law too. Now, if you will excuse me, I have patients to see.” He snapped his bag closed, picked it up, and marched out.

  “What will you do now, Custis?” Amanda asked.

  “I’d like to hang around a bit and see does she pull through. There’s some questions I’d like to ask her. Like for instance what was she doing up on top of that mountain in her nightdress and no sign of a camp or proper clothes. And where was she going with my horse. She wasn’t stealing it for money, I wouldn’t think. She was wanting to go someplace, and my bullet stopped her from it.”

  He reached for a cheroot and a match. Once he had the cigar properly alight, he added, “Like I said. I got questions. I figure the answers might be kinda interesting.”

  “LouAnne, take Custis out into the kitchen and get him some coff
ee. I’ll take over here,” Amanda said.

  “I could use a bite o’ food too. Haven’t eaten yet today and I’m kinda hungry.”

  LouAnne took him by the arm and led him toward the kitchen. “We have some cold pork and nice, crusty bread. Perhaps some coffee too. Would that be all right?”

  Chapter 11

  “Custis. Wake up.”

  He opened his eyes to see Amanda bending over him in the dim light of a lamp that was turned down low. He had been dozing in an armchair in her parlor. “Wha time zit?” he mumbled.

  “It’s about two thirty,” she said.

  “In the morning?”

  “Yes, of course. It wouldn’t be this dark at two thirty in the afternoon.”

  “Oh, um, right.” He sat up and rubbed his eyes, continuing the motion to include his whole face. He felt numb. And very tired. At least partially revived, he asked, “What’s up?”

  “Your victim. She’s awake now. I thought you would want to know. You said you wanted to talk with her.”

  “Right. Thanks.” He stood, yawned, and stretched, then followed Amanda through the kitchen to the bedroom. LouAnne was seated in a comfortable chair beside the woman, who now lay propped up on a pair of fluffy pillows. She was dressed now too in a nightgown that almost certainly would be Amanda’s. Either Amanda or LouAnne must have given her a wash and brushed her hair, because except for being pale, she appeared quite normal. For that matter, Longarm realized, she might have been pale to begin with.

  He approached the bed. The woman looked up at him with no recognition whatsoever, so he said, “H’lo, miss. My name is Long. Custis Long. I’m a United States deputy marshal.” He hesitated, then added, “It was my horse you tried to steal. I’m the one as shot you.”

  “Oh, I . . . I’m sorry, Marshal.”

  “Who are you, miss?”

  “My name is Jane Nellis. Am I under arrest?”

  “No. Not yet anyhow. Why were you tryin’ to steal that horse, Miss Nellis?”

  “It is Mrs. Nellis, not Miss. I . . . My husband. I think he has been murdered. And our daughter kidnapped.”

  Longarm’s eyebrows went up. LouAnne reached out and took the woman’s hand to offer comfort and encouragement.

  “I was trying to go for help,” Jane Nellis said. She was beginning to cry now. “Our daughter . . . she is only sixteen. The men took her. I can only imagine why.”

  “But you got away,” Longarm said, not sure if the woman was telling the truth or merely angling for sympathy.

  She nodded. “I slipped out under the back of the tent. I ran. Trying to get help. That is why . . . your horse . . . I’m sorry.” The tears were coming heavy now, and snot streamed out of her nose.

  “Tent?” he asked. “You were in a tent?”

  “My husband . . . Frank Nellis . . . he is a geologist. We found . . . silver. Commer . . . commercial quantities . . . he thought. Was going to file . . . claim.”

  Longarm could see that Jane Nellis was tiring. Her complexion was looking gray and unhealthy.

  “Who shot him, Mrs. Nellis? Who took your daughter?”

  “I don’t . . . Some men. I didn’t know them. I think Frank did. Met them . . . I don’t know.”

  “And this tent?” he asked. “Where is the tent that you say they raided?”

  Her tears came even more heavily. “I don’t . . . I don’t know,” she wailed. “Mountains. In the . . . mountains. I don’t know where. Up . . . up there. Other side of mountain. I don’t know.”

  “Custis. Please,” Amanda said. “Can’t you leave her alone now?” “And don’t you worry,” LouAnne put in. “The marshal will find those men. He will get your baby back for you.”

  Jane Nellis clutched LouAnne’s hand. “Will he?”

  “He will,” LouAnne declared, nodding emphatically. “I promise he will.”

  That was news to Longarm, but Mrs. Nellis seemed to accept it as gospel. A smile flickered across her face. Then she closed her eyes and went back to sleep.

  Longarm was not sure if he should thank LouAnne. Or punch the woman in the face.

  Chapter 12

  “Custis, we have to talk.” Amanda was standing with her fists on her hips, looking like she was ready for a fight.

  “’Bout what?” he asked.

  “You know about what,” Amanda returned.

  LouAnne, looking more than a little uncomfortable, stood and said, “I’ll put a pot of coffee on to boil.” She quickly exited the parlor, where they had moved after Jane Nellis fell asleep.

  “You have to find that little girl, Custis. You have to return her to her mother, and you have to find out what happened to her husband too. Why, the poor thing doesn’t even know if she is a widow or not.”

  “She was coming here to report the crime to the local law. What’s wrong with you going to find your local sheriff or somebody and letting him take care of it.”

  “Damn you, Custis, you know good and well that anything that happened on the other side of the mountain is outside the jurisdiction of our local people. They would just say it’s a shame and go back home to bed. You, on the other hand, are a federal deputy. You have jurisdiction anywhere in the country.”

  “Kidnapping isn’t a federal crime, Mandy,” he reasoned.

  “What about murder?” she countered.

  “Murder neither. Not that we know for certain sure that anybody’s been murdered.”

  “So . . . so . . . so maybe the kidnappers stole a piece of mail out of the Nellises’ tent. I don’t know, dammit. You figure it out. But in the meantime, go do something about it.”

  “I got to go back up there to get the stuff I cached up top,” Longarm grumbled. “Maybe I could, um, maybe I could look around a mite. But there’s an awful lot I’d need to know. Like how to find this silver strike that Frank Nellis is supposed to have made. Why, I don’t even know the daughter’s name.”

  “Sybil,” LouAnne said from the doorway as she entered carrying a tray with a carafe and coffee cups.

  “What?”

  “The daughter. Her name is Sybil. I remember Jane saying that.”

  “I didn’t hear any such,” Longarm said.

  “Before we came to get you,” LouAnne said. She set the tray down and began pouring coffee and distributing a cup for each of them before finally pouring a cup for herself and settling onto the sofa. “She was talking about her little girl then. I remember she said the child’s name is Sybil.”

  “What about the place where her husband made this silver find? Did she say anything about that?”

  “Of course she did. Cream, Custis? Sugar?”

  “No, thanks. What about the place?”

  “She said it is in a canyon. There is a stream running through it. There aren’t any roads. She didn’t mention anything else.”

  “Hell, that covers pretty much half o’ Colorado,” Longarm said.

  “Can’t you trail her back to where she was?” Amanda asked.

  Longarm grunted. “Track a woman afoot over rocky ground? I’m good, Mandy, but I’m no magician.”

  “Can’t you even try?” LouAnne asked.

  “Custis, you owe the lady that much.”

  “After all, Custis, you are the one who shot her.”

  “She might have gotten help sooner if you hadn’t shot her.”

  “She would have given your horse back to you. She told me so.”

  “Whoa!” Longarm held a hand up, palm outward, to cut off the flow of comment and condemnation. “Hold up there, ladies. I’ve got to go up there anyway to get my stuff. Maybe, oh, maybe I’ll take a quick look around while I’m there. See if I can find out anything about Nellis and the kid.” He tried the coffee. It was getting cold already. Damn thin-walled china cups was the problem, he silently thought. A good, heavy mug will hold the heat where this
thin porcelain crap will not.

  And yes, dammit, he admitted to himself, he was putting off saying what he knew good and well he would have to say.

  He sighed and said, “I’ll look for the girl. All right?”

  Both Amanda and LouAnne smiled broadly. LouAnne picked up the carafe and leaned forward. “Can I heat your coffee, dear?”

  Chapter 13

  Longarm stretched out on the sofa for the remainder of the night. When he woke up, he could hear the boarders coming downstairs for breakfast. His stomach rumbled a little at the thought of breakfast. He got up and went back into the kitchen.

  He did not want to confuse the paying folks by showing up at the dining table for breakfast, but that did not stop him from grabbing a plate in the kitchen and helping himself to the platters of food before Amanda carried them into the dining room, and LouAnne made sure his coffee cup never became empty.

  Two women waiting on him! That sounded mighty good as far as he was concerned.

  After breakfast both women gave him passionate good-bye kisses. Each of them fingered his crotch and whispered promises in his ear.

  “Now I’m damn sure anxious t’ get back,” he said.

  “We’ll play all you like then, Custis, but right now go. Go!” Amanda said.

  “Hurry back, Custis. But go. Go!” LouAnne said.

  “I could put this off for a day or two,” he suggested, not entirely joking.

  “Go!” both chorused as one voice.

  He went. Went outside to collect his horse and burro. It took only a moment to throw the comfortable civilian saddle onto the brown mare and step onto her back, with the fuzzy-eared burro trailing at the end of the lead rope.

  He had gotten a late start but this time was riding with intent rather than simply ambling along on vacation. It was still daylight—although barely—when he reached the barren patch of ground on top of the mountain where he had left his packs.