Longarm and the Lone Star Legend

by Tabor Evans

  "The Danzig family," Longarm mused. "And I assume you knew this weapon belonged to Wulf Danzig?"

  "Yes." Jessie's eyes darkened to a hue resembling the Texas sky when it is suddenly overwhelmed by gray storm clouds. "Wulf Danzig, the man responsible for my father's death."

  "I still don't understand," Longarm complained. "What meaning did this special-edition Mauser have for you? Why do you and Danzig hate each other so?"

  "There's a pistol just like Wulf Danzig's in my father's gun collection," Jessie said. "Remember that I told you my father had killed a young fop in Europe? A young man who was the son of the baron who had ordered the runaway-carriage attack?"

  "That was the incident that took your mother's life," Longarm said quietly. "Your father killed the man's son for revenge, just before his own ship set sail. He had the boy's monogrammed handkerchief sent to the grieving father, along with a Starbuck business card."

  "My father took something from that young fop besides his handkerchief. He took the man's pistol. It was a Mauser Zig-Zag, a pistol identical to the one Ki brought me, except for the monogram. The initials on my father's Mauser are KD, for Kurt Danzig."

  "And Wulf Danzig…" Longarm began.

  "Is Kurt Danzig's son. He was just a child when my father took his father's life."

  "To avenge your mother's death," Longarm concluded. "And now Wulf Danzig has killed your father to avenge his own father's death, and now he wants to kill you, as well."

  "The feud continues," Jessica mourned. "The wheel spins around and around." She reached out to press her fingers against his bearded cheek. "I thought loving you could make it end, but it never will, not until the last Starbuck is dead."

  "Or the last Danzig," Longarm said cynically. "The Starbucks ain't exactly been innocent victims. Up till now, your family has given as good as it got."

  Jessie frowned. "It will get worse. Danzig wants me dead for personal reasons, but the people for whom he is working are very pragmatic."

  "Because of that book your father left you," Longarm said sadly. "Because of that book they figure you're dangerous."

  "They know I intend to use it to foil and frustrate every one of their schemes to expand their influence in this country. They know I will fight them the way my daddy fought them."

  "Well, right now Danzig's got us," Longarm reminded her. "What was the newspaper clipping?"

  "I've still got that," Jessie said, digging into her skirt pocket to extract the folded square of newsprint. "It tells of one John Brader, an expatriate American gunsmith who sold his Gatling-style gun to the…"

  Jessie broke off as the door to the shack swung open. In stepped Danzig, accompanied by a short, fat, balding man dressed in a blue velvet suit and a garish satin vest.

  "That's John Brader," Jessie announced.

  "Now how did she know that?" the fat man wondered out loud to Danzig.

  Jessie held up the clipping, then balled it up and dropped it to the floor.

  "Well, you're a rude girl," Brader frowned. "Never mind that clipping. I have extras."

  Longarm took in the gray wisps of Brader's hair, his glinting spectacles, his blunt, callused fingers, and the sharp tang of cordite that seemed to emanate from his skin and clothes. "You're the man responsible for these 'coffee grinders,' I take it?"

  "Indeed I am, young man," Brader beamed.

  "But you're American," Longarm said. "Why are you working for a foreign power?

  Danzig laughed. "Go on, Heir Brader. Tell your story," he coaxed, his blue eyes lit with malice.

  "I'll have you know, Deputy Long, that I gave my country every opportunity to appreciate me," Brader began. "I was an officer of the Union Army during the War. Because of my experience and expertise in weaponry, the Army saw fit to call upon me to evaluate Richard Gatling's designs. The Gatling gun was clever, that I will concede," he sniffed, hooking his broad thumbs into his vest, "But nothing I couldn't beat on my worst day."

  "So why didn't you beat it?" Longarm demanded.

  "I did! I did beat it! I worked on my designs until I had a gun comparable to Gatling's in every way. I used every cent I had to build my prototypes. They were the same weight as Gatling's, used the same ammunition, but they could outshoot anything he had to offer. They were more reliable as well, Deputy. My guns didn't jam nearly as often as to."

  "This was right after the War, I take it," Longarm interjected. "Bad time to try and peddle armaments." He shrugged.

  "I demonstrated my prototypes to the army and the navy." Brader stopped. He was shaking with fury. "The United States government, Deputy — your employer — was not interested in what I had to offer them. They came up with some cock-and-bull story about having already spent their budget on building up an armory of Gatling guns. But I didn't believe that. I knew that someone, somewhere, had been paid off. It was bribery and corruption working against me! There could be no other explanation as to why my far superior designs were turned down!"

  Longarm said wearily, "Your designs were most likely turned down for exactly the reasons the government gave you."

  "Bribery, corruption," Brader staunchly insisted.

  "Bad timing, you mean," Longarm said. "Stubborn stupidity on your part." Longarm laughed. "If you were in the service, you should have known better than to try to interest a peacetime government in expensive weaponry. What did you think they would do, throw away all those Gatlings they'd already bought?" Longarm's expression turned to one of disgust. "And for all of your bragging and crowing, you let that one disappointment defeat you."

  "No I didn't!" Brader snarled. "I took my plans and prototypes to Europe. They appreciated me! The British Royal Navy bought my guns, and other armed forces are even now getting ready to commit themselves to large purchases."

  "Let me guess," Longarm said. "Danzig's organization has generously decided to fund your factories, am I right?"

  "That is correct," Danzig said stiffly.

  "And what about the 'coffee grinders'?" Longarm asked. "Aren't you going to give your own government first crack at the plans for those, Brader?"'

  "Actually, no plans exist," Brader said slyly. He tapped one finger against his bald dome. "Except up here, that is. Oh, there might be some specifications and parts lists lying around somewhere, but they'd be meaningless without my overview. No government has yet seen my guns. No one even knows about them, except those who may have seen them in action, and Danzig here. He furnished me the funds to hand-build my prototypes. I personally built every 'coffee grinder* we have, and they are all here."

  Danzig rested his hand on Brader's shoulder. "It is the innovation of the century," he said in genuine admiration. "Essentially, it is a one-man Gatling…"

  Brader shrugged off Danzig's hand and began to pout like a small boy.

  "Pardon, Herr Brader," Danzig smiled. "What I meant to say is that it is essentially a one-man Brader gun."

  "Damn right!" Brader declared. "I reduced the weapon's weight by chambering it for a small .25-caliber round — after all, making lots of little holes in a man is the same as making one big one — and by holding the number of barrels down to just two. The cranks are opposed, so that when one barrel is firing, the other is ejecting its spent casing. A magazine fits into the weapon's breech. The gun weighs no more than two Winchesters — certainly a reasonable enough weight — but the fact the gun hooks over the user's shoulders helps to make it even easier to carry and fire. With my gun, one man has the firepower of ten men, and ten men have the firepower of one hundred!"

  Danzig laughed. "We have twenty-five of these weapons, Herr Long, and enough ammunition and magazines for each."

  "Enough to do what?" Longarm replied. "What do you think you're going to do with your nasty toys? Take over Texas?"

  "In a manner of speaking," Danzig said.

  "Never happen," Longarm said flatly. "Twenty or twenty-five men, even armed with those gadgets could never hold the entire state."

  "They don't have to," Jessie broke
in. "They don't have to steal Texas, Longarm," she explained. "They can buy it, lock, stock, and barrel."

  "An apt phrase." Danzig ducked his head in appreciation. "You are indeed your father's daughter."

  "As you are your father's son," Jessie said evenly. She turned to Longarm. "They can keep the cattle from reaching market, which would mean the ranchers would not get paid."

  "That would mean they could not meet their obligations on the notes held by the Starbuck bank in Sarah," Danzig added. "Their land, their herds, their businesses — all of which they have put up as collateral — will be seized."

  "Except that Jessie freed the ranchers of their obligations," Longarm pointed out.

  "Verbally, perhaps," Danzig shrugged. "But she did not put anything to that effect down on paper, am I correct?" The Prussian looked at Jessie, who sighed and looked away.

  "And now she never shall. You must realize that neither of you will leave this place alive," Danzig said.

  "I think we will, Danzig," Longarm shot back. "I'm a federal deputy marshal. I turn up missing, and folks start to look for me."

  "Not this time, Herr Long."

  "I left instructions that the army be sent for."

  "The instructions will not be followed, Herr Long."

  Brader giggled.

  "They still don't understand," he said.

  "Understand what?" Jessie asked slowly.

  "That the governor himself is in cahoots with these two," Longarm said grimly. "It fits, Jessie. Why he pulled the strings way back in the beginning to keep the army out of the area, why he's shown such an interest in your business affairs."

  "Oh, Custis," Jessie said faintly. "I've given him power of attorney…"

  "The governor was in on it from the beginning, all right," Brader confirmed. "It seems your daddy had decided — rightly — that the governor would make a lousy senator. So the governor helped us get rid of Alex Starbuck, in exchange for financial backing for his campaign."

  "He has the connections to see to it that he becomes the executor of your estate, Jessica," Danzig said. He will sec to it that the ranchers' holdings are foreclosed, and that they are sold to my people at a fraction of their true worth. We will have control of Texas's cattle industry, a foothold in American commerce, and a senator who will do our bidding from that point on." Danzig smiled. "He is a handsome, articulate man, the governor is. Perhaps one day he will be your country's President."

  "And what do you and Brader get out of this?" Longarm asked.

  "Brader gets wealth, and revenge on a country that spurned his genius," Danzig replied. "I will also receive wealth, but more importantly, I will have the satisfaction of knowing that I was instrumental in grinding the Starbucks into extinction. Not only will Jessie die by my hand, but the empire her father built will, for all intents and purposes, fall into the hands of her father's enemies. I will live in your father's home, Jessie," he continued, staring at her with a mocking grin. "I will control the governor as if he were a puppet, and I will rule over your father's people and his town."

  "Brader, don't spend your money yet," Longarm snarled. "And you. you Prussian fruitcake," he spat, addressing Danzig. "You haven't won yet."

  Danzig paled with fury. His eyes frosted over like ice, and the long scar down his cheek pulsed visibly. "I could kill you both right now," he said. "But I will wait until the Oriental is caught. I want to see the sorrow in her eyes when you and he beg for mercy. I want to see her cry when I kill both of you." Danzig moved closer to the wire mesh. "Then, Long, do you know what I shall do with her? I shall give her to my men to be used like a whore!"

  "That's because he can't do the job himself," Jessie laughed scornfully. "And he'd better not try, or I'll…"

  But Danzig, sputtering incoherently, had turned on his heel to stride out of the shack. Brader looked reproachfully at Jessica.

  "You mustn't make him angry," the inventor warned. "He can be very cruel indeed if he's angered."

  "He might kill us twice," Longarm said laconically. "You're as nutty as he is, Brader. Run along."

  "He can make it seem like he's killed you twice," Brader squeaked in rage. "He can make it feel like you've died a thousand deaths. And I hope he does!" With that, the short, fat man hurried out of the shack, shutting the door behind him.

  Longarm turned to Jessie and enfolded her in his arms. "You were great."

  "All show," she murmured. "I'm petrified." She kissed him and then asked softly, "What are the chances that someone else might telegraph for the army, or make contact with your superiors in Denver?"

  "Not too good, I'm afraid," Longarm answered, hugging her. "Farley's a good man, but not the type to go over the goddamned governor's head. The way we left it before I set off after you, the governor was to telegraph for the army, while Farley and the ranchers organized their men to protect their herds. But twenty-odd professional killers armed with those infernal Brader guns will be able to cut through those cowboys like a hot knife through butter. Hell, most of those drovers never drew their Peacemakers against anything but coyotes."

  "Ki will help us," Jessie said. "You need a shave, your beard is scratchy," she giggled as Longarm planted kisses along her neck and cheek. "But your mustache is nice and soft," she murmured as she nibbled at his lower lip. Suddenly she pulled away slightly, still staying close enough, however, for him to rest his hands on her hips. "Darling," she breathed, "there's a time and place for everything…"

  "And we'd sure as hell be in a different place if you'd listened to me," Longarm scolded. "What got into you to set off after Danzig by yourself? You were sure to be captured."

  "Well, you got captured too," Jessie said.

  "That's different!"

  "Oh, really?" she laughed. "Explain that to me!"

  Longarm thought fast. "I wanted to get captured. It was the only way to get to you."

  Jessie stared skeptically, but slowly her eyes widened with adoration. She pressed her head against his chest. "I see. How brave of you." She bit her lip to keep from laughing.

  "Now we have to find a way out," Longarm said absently, most of his concentration captured by the softness of Jessie in his arms, the fragrance of her hair.

  "Yes, dear." Jessie tucked her fingers into his back pockets.

  "But I'm still riled at you for breaking your promise," Longarm said firmly, trying his best to ignore her teasing touch. "I thought you said that it was very clear that I was in charge of doing the apprehending."

  "I said it was clear," Jessie nodded, a mischievous smile forming on her lips. "I never said I was going to listen."

  Longarm made a sound that was somewhere between a growl and a groan. "And I also said you needed a spanking!"

  Jessie stroked the hard bulge filling the front of his trousers. "Sounds like fun," she said sweetly. "But shouldn't we get out of here first?"

  "We've got a little problem there," Longarm mused, letting go of her. "We've got nothing to pick that lock with, and no weapons. We're also surrounded by a band of armed, professional killers."

  "Ki will help us," Jessie repeated. "He'll come tonight, close to dawn, when the enemy is most relaxed."

  "That still don't get us out of here," Longarm frowned. "Good as he is, he can't take them all by himself."

  "Did you say you knew how to pick a lock?" Jessie asked.

  "Sure," Longarm shrugged. "Especially one as easy as that padlock, but I need something to stick into it. My pocket knife has a filed-down blade that'd do the job nicely, but they've taken it…"

  "Will this do?" Jessica interrupted, removing a pin from her hair.

  "Son of a bitch," Longarm chuckled, taking it from her.

  "As for a gun," Jessie murmured, looking out through the mesh to make sure they weren't being scrutinized, "I think this will help." She hoisted up her skirt to reveal, high up on her shapely thigh, a black elastic garter. Sewn onto it was a tiny holster in which was a derringer. She drew it and handed the little gun to Longarm.

&n
bsp; "Didn't they search you?" Longarm muttered, astounded.

  Jessie shrugged. "To a point."

  "I wouldn't have passed up a chance like that." he smiled. The derringer was a twin-barrel .38. Its grips were of ivory, and engraved upon them was the Circle-Star brand.

  Longarm handed it back to her. "Put it back in that interesting holster of yours," he remarked. "Or, if you'd rather, I will…"

  "Let's keep our minds on our work," Jessie suggested wryly, slipping the derringer back into its hiding place.

  Longarm tucked the hairpin into the band of his hat. "Tonight, toward dawn, we'll pick that lock and head for that shack you told me about, the one where they once stored explosives. I'd wager that's the building Danzig is using for his armory. We've got to destroy those weapons, Jessie."

  "But what if tonight is too late?" she asked. "What if Danzig decides to raid the herds today?"

  "I don't think he will," Longarm began. "First of all, he doesn't know when Ki is going to attack. When I was taken, Danzig was there, in person. Capturing Ki will mean that Danzig's fun can begin. He hates you more than he cares about this business scheme. He knows the army isn't coming…" Longarm nodded. "My guess is he feels he can afford to wait until he's captured Ki and has us all locked up. Then he can ride out with his men to do his dirty work, knowing that he's got his revenge to look forward to, all nice and neat."

  "I guess you're right," Jessie sighed. "Anyway, we need the cover of darkness, and the confusion Ki will cause, if we're to succeed in destroying those weapons." She left the last part of her thought unspoken: And if I'm going to kill Danzig…

  Chapter 18

  Ki waited for night to fall before he began his final approach. He'd left his horse two miles back, in order to close in on foot. He'd changed his clothes, donning his old, worn jeans, his collarless cotton shirt, and his soft leather vest with its multitude of pockets.