Longarm and the Whiskey Woman

by Tabor Evans

  The old man nodded slowly. "I reckon what you say is true, Mr. Long, but it just wouldn't work out for you to be married to Sally. The rest of the family would hold it again' you. Mark was wrong. He was trying to ambush you with a shotgun. He was helping that sorry Morton. I've got to thank you for killing that rattlesnake. In the end, he'd of ruined more than one of the Coltons. He's already ruined several of them, and I hate it that the last one he ruined was my own flesh and blood. I don't hold it again' you for killing him--Mark, I mean. I don't hold it again' you for nothing. He was shooting at you. In fact, he shot first. I seen it. Mr. Long, I know what happened."

  John was standing right behind his daddy. In a strained voice, he said, "Mr. Long, what Daddy is trying to say is there never would be a way for you to be accepted into the family. Mark's wife would hold it again' you, and eventually, she'd hold it again' Sally, and so would the rest of the family. Y'all would always be on the outside. Sally's crying her eyes out right now, but there ain't no other help for it. Daddy is already having her clothes packed. He's going to send her with her aunt until you get cleared of the country. She don't want to go, and she's putting up a hell of a struggle, but if she has to go tied hand and foot, she'll be leaving within the hour. You ain't never gonna be seem' her again, Mr. Long."

  Longarm sighed. He said, "That comes as a blow to me, John. I don't think it's fair and I don't think it's right, but if that be your daddy's decision, ain't a damned thing I can do about it."

  Old man Colton nodded. He said, "I appreciate it kindly. By kindly, I mean I appreciate you not standing up and making a squawk about it. It's for the best, Mr. Long. I know my kinfolk, and I know it just wouldn't work."

  "Well, that's that, then. And I reckon, except for the whiskey, our business is finished."

  The old man said, "There do be one more thing, Mr. Long. I'm a-feared I can't sell you no whiskey now."

  Longarm was truly startled this time. "The hell you say! How come you can't sell me no whiskey? Here you take the woman I love away from me and now you say you ain't gonna sell me no whiskey?"

  Asa Colton shrugged. He said, "I thought it through and I figured it to be for your own good. You can't ever come back here in this holler and you can't ever do any more business with this family. One load would just whet your appetite for more, like Mr. Carson here. He's been buying whiskey from us for five, six, seven years. Buys four or five times a year, I don't remember exactly how many. So, you see, one little load of two thousand gallons ain't gonna set you up for much."

  Longarm said stubbornly, "Yeah, but I've come all this way, and I ought to at least take back some. That little old two thousand gallons, at least I ought to be able to take that back. What are my partners going to think that I've been doing out here? If I come back with no whiskey, Mr. Colton, then I'm going to look mighty bad. Now, I ask you, would you like to be in the position you are putting me in?"

  The old man thought for a moment. Finally he said, "No, I reckon not." He looked up at John. "Son, what do you reckon? Should we let him have that two thousand gallons?"

  John shrugged. He said, "It's already loaded on the wagons and they'll be starting up any time. What difference does it make? Mr. Long has to get out of this country somehow. He might as well get out on that train."

  Longarm said, "There. Thank you, John, I appreciate it. Lord, it's hard enough to take a man's woman but then to try to take his whiskey..."

  Asa nodded. He said, "Well, in that case, if we're going to let you have the whiskey, then I think it's only fair that you do Morton's job on the account of it was you that killed him. I was thinking about asking Mr. Carson to do it, but he's a customer that will be coming back, and you ain't ever going to be coming back, so it seems fair to ask you to do it."

  "Do what?"

  "Well, the way we handles it with them two federal fellows is, we pay them off at the train as it's loaded on the siding. We pay them ten cents per gallon. We're going to be shipping twelve thousand gallons, so we'll have twelve hundred dollars to hand to them for the whole shipment. Now, I don't ever let no Colton hand them the money."

  "Hell, Morton was a Colton."

  The old man shook his head. "No, his last name was Colton. He wasn't a Colton. If he'd been the only one that you killed, there would have been no trouble. But someone has to hand over the money, and I'd take it kindly if you'd handle that for me, Mr. Long, and we'd be quits and there'd be no hard feelings, not that there is any now."

  Longarm was calculating in his mind. It would have been better to have one of the Coltons hand over the money to the Treasury agents. It wasn't as good with him doing it. But what was important was that they took it. If they took it from his hand, then the Treasury agents were just as guilty as if they had taken it from the hand of Morton Colton or any other Colton or anybody else connected with the whiskey so far as that went.

  Longarm thought about it for a good long moment. Finally, he nodded. He said, "Yeah, I reckon I could do that."

  The old man nodded. He said to Longarm, "For that, I'll let you have the whiskey, but I won't let you pay the money for it."

  Longarm was alarmed. He said, "Sir, I wouldn't feel right about that. I feel the need to pay for that whiskey."

  Asa Colton studied the situation for a moment. "You get your cash money from back home?"

  Longarm nodded. "Yes, Mr. Carson brought it to me."

  "Well, you just pay them government folks the money they got coming out of your cash, and we'll be square. That'll give you a pretty good price per gallon, and you can make a little more profit."

  It didn't matter to Longarm what the price was, so long as money changed hands. "I'm much obliged for that, sir. Do you mind if I ask what the names of them Treasury agents are?"

  John said, "Not that it makes much difference, but their names are Colley and Small."

  "They got first names?"

  Behind him, Carson laughed. He said, "Hell, Mr. Long, do you plan on getting social with them? What the hell do you care what their first names are?"

  Longarm realized he had gone too far. He said, "I don't really give a damn what their names are. I just wanted to make sure I give the money to the right people."

  Asa chuckled. He said, "You'll be able to tell which ones they are. They'll be the ones with their hands out. There might be some confusion about Morton not being there, but you just tell them that you are taking his place, that he met with some kind of accident."

  Longarm said, "I reckon I can handle that."

  Asa Colton got up. "There's one more thing, Mr. Long. I'm going to ask you to stay in this cabin for the balance of this day and tonight. I know it seems unfair, but there's some hard feelings over at the big house, and I wouldn't want you to run into any more trouble. I'll have you some supper sent over. You and Mr. Carson will be leaving early in the morning. The wagons will be pulling out right after dark."

  "I don't understand all that I know about this train business. Can you explain this to me?"

  John said, "There ain't really nothing that you need to know, Mr. Long. You ride along with Mr. Carson. He's done this a half dozen times before, and he knows the way."

  Longarm said, "How come the wagons are leaving here tonight?"

  "Because it's a hard pull up and down some of these hills for the horses and oxen. That whiskey weighs considerable more than you think it does. Twelve thousand gallons is a pretty good load of whiskey."

  "All right," Longarm said. The two men were moving toward the door. "I'm sorry it turned out this way, Mr. Colton. I wish we could have gone on doing business in the future."

  The old man stopped and shuffled his feet for a second. He said, "You never can tell. Time has a way of healing old wounds. I hope you don't feel too bad about Sally."

  Longarm said, "Naturally I feel mighty bad about Sally. I hope she finds a good man who won't cause her trouble with her own folks. I wish it could have been me."

  John said, "Well, we'll bid you a good-bye now, Mr. Long
. Y'all have a good rest this evening."

  When they were gone, Longarm sat down at the table. Frank Carson came over from where he had been standing by the bed and sat down across from where Asa Colton had been sitting. He said, "Looks like you didn't come off too good. You lost a wife, and you damned near lost the whiskey. I do have to say, though, you got a better price on the whiskey. I guess you could look at it as a profit all around."

  Longarm watched the old man and his son as they walked back toward the big house. He could see them clearly out the window. He said thoughtfully, "I just wish they weren't such nice folks."

  He switched back to Carson. He said, "I don't understand about this railroad business, these boxcars and the whiskey being loaded and all this and that. How is that going to get me back to Arizona with a load of whiskey?"

  Carson said, "it ain't hard. There's a siding about fifteen miles southwest of here. You and I will ride over there in the morning. It will be about a two-, two-and-a-half-hour ride. There will be three boxcars loaded on the siding. I'm taking six thousand gallons and it will be loaded into one of the boxcars. Your two thousand gallons will be in another, and as I understand it, they're shipping four thousand gallons down to an old customer in Texas that will be in the third boxcar. That's twelve thousand gallons. Each one of those cars has a waybill on it for its destination. When the train picks us up coming by from North Little Rock, it will run us down to Hot Springs, which is a switching point about eighty or ninety miles away. From there, you can get your boxcar tagged onto a train heading west, I'll head east, and I guess that load for Texas will head south. That's all there is to it."

  "Will any of the Coltons be there?"

  Carson shook his head. He said, "I doubt it. The wagons will have already arrived and loaded the whiskey on the boxcars and will have damned near gotten back here by the time we get there. Somebody might stick around to see that nobody fools around with the whiskey, but the Coltons don't like to be involved in that part of the business. That way, nobody can really ever connect them with it."

  Longarm said, "Sounds smart to me." He reached across and picked up the bottle of whiskey and poured them both a drink. "By the way, Mr. Carson, I've taken note of the fact that while you brought me my money, you didn't bring me those two bottles of Maryland whiskey I had in my room in Little Rock."

  Carson smiled. "Well, either somebody stole that whiskey or I drank it or it got broke. Either way, you ain't got it. Best I can tell you about that is that however you lost it, don't make no difference."

  Longarm gave him a look. "I bet you drank it."

  Frank Carson said, "Now, why would I want to do that when my family makes some of the best sipping whiskey in the South? It wasn't that bad, though, to tell you the truth. I have to admit that."

  Longarm gave him a stern look. "Why you low-down son of a bitch. Me sitting here drinking this mouth-searing, rot-gutting, head-busting white lightning, and you're up there drinking my good whiskey. You're a hell of a fellow, Mr. Carson."

  "My mother thinks so."

  They left a little before seven the next morning, riding Frank Carson's horses. The going was hard at first. It was up steep inclines and then down and then up another steep incline and then down again and again. Carson said, "Now you see why the wagons leave so early?"

  After a half hour's riding, they cut the track the wagons had made and followed it for about an hour. After that, it was faster to cut cross-country through places the wagons couldn't go.

  Longarm asked, "Where does this train come out of?"

  Frank Carson said, "Well, I don't know where it starts, but its last stop before it picks up the cars is North Little Rock. What the hell do you care?"

  Longarm said, "I'm just trying to figure how those federal boys are going to get there. Will they come on horseback?"

  Carson gave him a look. "You're certainly a curious fellow, ain't you? No, they won't come on horseback. They'll be on that train, at least that's how they've done it before. Of course, I ain't never had no part in that, and I don't really care where they come from. All I want to do is make sure my whiskey's all right and get the hell on home. I'm tired of this damned place."

  "What kind of fellows are they, those government men?"

  Carson shook his head. "I don't know, Mr. Long. What do you care?"

  "I just want to know what to expect. Are they tough?"

  "I've done told you, I don't know. I didn't say I didn't know them, Mr. Long, and I didn't say that I did know them. I didn't say anything about it. I didn't say anything at all about them. Take my meaning?"

  Longarm said, "Sounds like a nice way of telling me to mind my own business."

  "There you go, Mr. Long."

  They had to rest their horses from time to time because of the rough terrain. Finally, they topped a rise and broke through a wide stand of trees and then rode out into the opening of a long downslope that led toward the railroad bed. From two miles off, they could see the three boxcars standing, silent and waiting.

  Carson looked at his watch. "It's ten minutes after nine. The train should be along about ten. We'll just have time to load my horses up into my boxcar before the train gets here."

  Longarm said, "Then let's get to it."

  They rode on down the slope and pulled up at the three big, brown boxcars. Longarm could see that the first one was almost half full of cases of whiskey. He expected that was Frank Carson's load. The middle one was only partially loaded, and he expected that was his. He couldn't see into the third boxcar, but he supposed that was the one bound for Texas.

  They dismounted and began taking the saddles off the horses. There was a grove of trees to the east some two hundred yards away, and Longarm could see a figure in the foliage among the trees. He said, "Wonder who that is?"

  Frank Carson said, "That will probably be John, but he don't want you to act like you see him, so just go on about your business."

  They got the horses unsaddled, and then Frank Carson scrambled up into his boxcar and pushed out a wide wooden ramp that tilted down to the ground. Together, they led the horses up one by one and got them established in the empty half of the boxcar. Longarm said, "What about feed and water?"

  Frank Carson said, "They'll be all right until we get to Hot Springs, and I'll get the yard crew there to put in a water trough and some hay and feed. It's a pretty good little ride from there on back to Tennessee."

  They brought the saddles up, threw them in, and then jumped down and pushed the ramp back into the boxcar. After that, they walked down and looked into Longarm's car. Carson said, "Yeah, that's about two thousand gallons. Reckon you'll make a pretty good profit off that back in Arizona, Mr. Long?"

  Longarm said, "Hell, I hope so. It appears that I've gone through enough trouble over this here whiskey. I've lost a wife, been shot at, had to kill two men."

  Carson said, "Three."

  "Oh, yeah. That deputy back in Little Rock."

  "I'd make it a good long time before I went back to that town if I's you."

  "Sounds like good advice."

  After that, they squatted in the grass and smoked and took nips out of a bottle of whiskey while they waited. Finally, they heard the sound of a train in the distance. They stood up and watched it come chugging around the side of a hill a couple of miles away. It was a freight train with a yellow caboose at the end. "Must be a local," Longarm said.

  "How so?"

  "Ain't many cars," Longarm said.

  "Freight trains can't pull many cars in these mountains. Ain't like out in the flat land where you'll see one pulling fifty or sixty cars."

  Longarm looked thoughtfully at Carson. For some time now it had been on his mind as to what he was going to do with this man. Carson had done him several favors. He had also backed him to a degree in a gunfight. Longarm did not plan to arrest him. In fact, he was going to let Carson leave with his whiskey. He didn't, however, want him getting in the way as a hinderance or as an innocent bystander who might get h
it with random gunfire if it came to that. But he could not tell Carson that he was a United States deputy marshal, not before he arrested those two Treasury agents. He just had to hope that Carson would have sense enough to stay out of it.

  Longarm glanced back to the little copse of woods. The figure was still there, but John had ridden deeper into the timber so as to further remove himself from the transaction when it took place. They watched as the train went slowly past them on the track. It went on until it was beyond the siding switch. A conductor came down and unhooked the caboose, leaving it short of the siding switch. Then he reset the switch so that the train could back onto the siding and connect to the three boxcars.

  Just as the train started groaning its way backward, Longarm saw two figures come out of the caboose and step to the ground. The men came walking toward him, stepping over the tracks. As they neared, he could see that they were both dressed in four-button suits with high collars and foulard ties. They were sporting derby hats.

  "That them?" Longarm said.

  "Yeah."

  "Quite the dandies, ain't they?"

  "Well, they can afford it. You better have your money ready."

  Longarm reached into his pocket for the envelope containing the $1,200. The men stepped over the last rail and started down the line of boxcars. Longarm took several steps forward. He noticed one of the men was wearing muttonchop sideburns. It was difficult for him to keep a straight face. They were small and insignificant men made even smaller by their underhanded and backdoor dishonesty. He held out the envelope. "You Small and Colley?"

  One of them, a man about thirty with light brown hair showing out from under his derby said, "Who's asking?"

  "The man who's filling in for Morton Colton."

  "Where's Morton?"

  "He took sick. There's twelve hundred dollars in this envelope. You want it?"

  For a second, the man just stared at Longarm and then put out his hand and took the money. The other one said, "We had better check and make sure how much whiskey is in these boxcars. We wouldn't want old man Colton shorting us."