by Evans, Tabor
“Give a figure, damn you!”
The owner jumped back and started to say something, but after taking a look into Longarm’s eyes, he changed his mind and wrote a figure down, then handed it to Longarm.
Longarm paid the man and left in a hurry. He had bought a pint bottle of whiskey, a loaf of sourdough bread, cheese and some crackers, and a can of sardines. Mostly, though, when he thought of Bodie and Homer, he thirsted for the whiskey.
Chapter 20
Darnell Burlington despised horses, dirt, dust heat, or anything to do with the outdoors. But now, in a rented buggy with the last two of his trusted henchmen riding at his side, he was headed off the Comstock Lode. He was hot on the trail of a boy who, if he lived, could rob him of what should have been his very large inheritance.
Darnell was tired and irritable. When news had swept into town that Bodie had shot Charlie Singleton to death up by the burned-down Burlington mansion, Darnell was drunk and about to screw one of the town’s most popular prostitutes, Sally Slide.
“We’ve got to go,” Rafe Ward said, filling the doorway of Sally’s hotel room.
“Get the hell out of here!” Darnell shouted.
“Boss, get your pants on and get your ass out of Sally’s bed! Bodie gunned down Charlie and that kid is on the run. And you can bet that federal marshal will be taking up his trail in the morning. If we don’t get to the kid before the marshal, it’s all over.”
“Shut up! I’ll be along in a minute. Now close the damned door and get me a buggy.”
Rafe gaped. “You want me to rent you a damned buggy?”
“That’s right. You know I can’t ride worth a shit.”
“But we can’t track . . .”
“Get moving!” Darnell bellowed, reaching for his pants.
“What’s going on?” Sally Slide, also quite drunk, asked with a yawn as she squeezed her sweaty thighs together.
“Never you mind.”
Sally’s hand shot out, and she playfully cupped Darnell’s balls. “What could be so important that you can’t finish what you started, darlin’? I was just gettin’ juicy.”
“It’s none of your business,” Darnell hissed.
Sally’s mood suddenly turned belligerent. “Well, dammit, Darnell, I expect to be paid even if you didn’t finish.”
Darnell slapped Sally Slide hard, splitting her lower lip and causing it to bleed.
“Damn you! I didn’t do nothin’ to deserve bein’ hit in the face like that!”
“If you don’t shut that big yap of yours,” Darnell warned, “I’ll slap your pretty face so hard it’ll look like raw meat and nobody will want to screw you for the next month.”
Sally Slide pulled a sheet over her exposed and still lovely body and dabbed at her bleeding lip with a dirty and stained corner. Her voice took on a whine. “Darnell, you never hit me before. You’ve cussed me out and did some hurtful things to my hole, but you never hit me in the face.”
Darnell started to hit her again, but Sally Slide screamed so he tossed her a couple of dollars and headed for the door still half-undressed.
“You gonna kill that kid?” Sally yelled.
Darnell paused, one hand on the doorknob. “What did you say?”
Sally swallowed hard. “I said take care of yourself, Darnell. I forgive you for hittin’ me just now, and I’ll be waitin’ when you return, and you won’t have to pay for it.”
“Smart girl,” Darnell replied. “Real smart.”
Darnell had left Virginia City within the hour, with Rafe Ward and Bull Halsey riding on either side of the buggy. They had passed through Gold Hill hearing the tinkling of piano music and the riotous laughter of drunken miners and saloon girls.
Darnell couldn’t hold the buggy horse to a fast trot, and he was already getting tired whipping the old buckskin. “This gawdamn horse is so slow we’ll be lucky to reach Carson City by dawn!”
“Sorry, Boss. These horses were all that Mike Meeker had to rent on such short notice.”
“You can buy a better horse to pull that damned thing once we reach Carson City,” Bull Halsey offered.
“How do we even know the kid is headed for Carson City?” Rafe Ward asked. “Maybe he struck out down this mountain headed for Reno.”
“He doesn’t know anyone in Reno,” Darnell irritably explained, feeling hungover. “Did either of you dumb bastards think to bring a bottle?”
Their silence told Darnell that they had not.
“Well, when we reach Carson City, we’ll buy something to drink.”
“I still don’t understand how we gonna find the kid,” Rafe persisted.
“We’ll wait and ambush him just south of town. I’m bettin’ everything that the kid is headed for Bodie because he probably has a few friends there. All we have to do is be waiting.”
“But if we don’t find him then . . .”
“Then you and Bull will just keep ridin’ until you do find him—and kill him.” Darnell’s mouth tasted like a shithouse and his stomach was giving him fits.
“How the hell did he manage to gun down Charlie?” Bull wanted to know.
“I have no idea,” Darnell admitted. “But that ought to be a fair warning to us. When we find the kid, we move in close and shoot him down without any talk or hesitation.”
“I never shot a kid before,” Rafe said quietly. “Not sure that I want to start now.”
Darnell laughed out loud and then hissed, “Rafe, you’ll either shoot him or I’ll pay Bull a hundred dollars to shoot the kid and you. How’s that sound, Bull?”
The huge man riding an equally huge dun horse cackled. Rafe Ward tried to see if Bull and Darnell were serious, but it was too dark and he was pretty sure that they really were serious.
* * *
Just as Darnell, Rafe, and Bull were entering Carson City, less than twenty miles to the east, Longarm was striding into Mike Meeker’s stable with a pair of saddlebags slung over his shouder, a rifle in his left hand, and a sack of hurriedly gathered supplies in his right hand.
“I need a fast saddle horse in a hurry,” he said, after pounding on Meeker’s barn with the butt of his rifle.
“Gawdammit, I need my sleep!”
“A horse and make it quick,” Longarm said, showing old man Meeker his federal officer’s badge.
“I ain’t got any rentals left right now.”
“You have horses in that corral over yonder,” Longarm said, pointing through the gloom.
“Them’s my own two special horses. I don’t rent ’em to anybody.”
“You’re renting the best of the pair to me right now,” Longarm said. “Or selling. One way or the other, I’m taking a horse and I’m not going to jaw with you about it.”
“Those horses are both real valuable.”
“How much?”
“Fifty dollars.”
“Sold—as long as the horse I choose comes with a bridle, bit, blanket, and saddle.”
“Sixty dollars then.”
“Fifty,” Longarm insisted. “And you’re robbing me blind.”
Meeker was bent and ill-tempered. “What the hell is goin’ on around here? Everybody wantin’ to rent horses all of a sudden.”
“Who are you talking about?”
“Darnell Burlington, Rafe Ward, and Bull Halsey all were actin’ like their asses were afire last night, after that shootin’, and wanted rental horses. What the hell is goin’ on here? The Black Death or a fire or some damn thing about to hit this town at high noon?”
“Darnell Burlington rented a horse?”
“And a buggy. His two men rented saddle horses. They were all in a hurry. Were they after that kid that shot Charlie Singleton last evening?”
“You guessed it,” Longarm admitted. “And
if I don’t find Bodie first, he’s as good as dead.”
“Ha!” Meeker exclaimed. “It’s about a big damned inheritance, isn’t it!”
“You’re smarter than you look, old man. Now, help me get after those men before they find the kid and kill him.”
Meeker tugged thoughtfully at his beard. “They burned down the mansion with Mr. Burlington and Mrs. Burlington in it, didn’t they?”
“You missed your calling,” Longarm said. “You should have been a Pinkerton detective.”
“Sixty dollars and you’re on your way, Marshal.”
Longarm had just a little less than that left in his wallet. He pulled out all the bills and shoved them into the old man’s outstretched hand. “This’ll have to do.”
Meeker counted the bills in the lamplight. “You’re short a few dollars.”
“Too bad. I’ll have to send you the rest next time I get paid.”
Meeker wasn’t happy, but he nodded. “Are you a man of your word?”
“Yes, I am.”
“Then take the sorrel gelding because he’s the better animal,” Meeker said. “I never liked Darnell, and those men are bad ones.”
“Thanks for the warning.” Longarm started off to halter the sorrel.
“Hope you save that boy,” Meeker said, tagging along in his wake. “Ruby Burlington was a good woman. When she got lucky and married Chester Burlington, she didn’t get uppity or put on any airs like you’d expect. If Darnell killed her and Chester, then I hope you kill him.”
“That’s my plan,” Longarm said. “Now, if we could stop jawing, maybe I might even be able to save Ruby’s boy.”
Old Man Meeker scurried off, jamming the money into his back pocket.
Five minutes later, Longarm galloped out of Virginia City on a handsome sorrel with a blaze on its face, just as the sun was lifting off the sage-covered and broken-rock eastern mountains. In less than two hours, he was down on the flats, galloping parallel to the Carson River lined by its tall, water-loving cottonwoods. Longarm knew he was starting much too late to overtake Darnell and his gunmen. They’d be in Carson City by now, and maybe they’d already found and killed Bodie. Longarm had no way of knowing, so he just kept pushing the gelding to its limit without breaking its wind.
* * *
When he rode into Carson City at mid-morning, his horse was coated with sweat and lather even though the high desert early morning air was crisp and cool. He was looking for the buggy, horses and men Mike Meeker had told him about. He’d spot them if they were in town.
Longarm rode up and then back down the main street, where a few people were awake and moving to their jobs and daily businesses. He saw a couple of horses tied in from of the Gold Strike Saloon, but otherwise nothing.
“Where is the boy?” he kept whispering to himself. “Is Bodie hiding out in the sagebrush or maybe the cottonwoods down by the river? Or did he just bypass Carson City and keep walking? Maybe he’s behind me and still up on Sun Mountain or on his way north to Reno.”
There were so many questions that Longarm couldn’t possibly answer. All he knew for sure was that this was a race against Darnell and his pair of hired killers. Bodie was already better than most with a six-gun, but he was no match for the three hunters close on his backtrail.
Chapter 21
“Have you seen a tall, dirty, and thin boy with long hair walking around town early this morning?” Longarm began to ask everyone he saw.
“There are a few of those kind around,” one man replied. “I ain’t seen any of ’em this morning, though.”
“Thanks.”
Longarm rode the sorrel over to a water tank and let it drink sparingly. He’d learned the hard way not to allow an overheated horse to drink too much cold water all at once. After a few minutes, he led the horse over to a hitching rail and tied it up and loosened its cinch. A few minutes later he walked over to the sheriff’s office, which was closed. He was about to return to his horse and start circling the town looking for Bodie when the sheriff hailed him.
“Hey, mister, how can I help you this morning?”
Carson City’s sheriff was a rugged-looking man probably in his early sixties. He had silver hair and a matching mustache and wore a friendly smile on his face.
“I’m a deputy United States marshal from Denver, looking for a runaway boy about fourteen or fifteen years old. He is tall, dirty, and unkempt, with a gun strapped on his hip, resting in a black leather holster.”
“Sounds like you’re looking for trouble.”
“His name is Bodie. His mother and stepfather were murdered up on the Comstock Lode. Their last name was Burlington.”
The lawman’s smile evaporated. “You’d be talking about Chester Burlington and his new wife, Ruby, I reckon.”
“That’s right.”
“What’s the boy got to do with them?”
“He’s Ruby’s son. I believe the boy is due to inherit quite a lot of money, but I think Chester’s son, Darnell, is trying to make sure that never happens.”
“By doing what?”
“Murdering Bodie just like I think that he did the Burlington couple.”
“Are you saying that Darnell shot his own father and then burned his body in that mansion fire?”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”
The sheriff shook his head. “I’ve met Darnell a few times, and once I even had to part his hair with the barrel of my pistol and toss him in jail for being so drunk and disorderly. He beat up on a whore and pulled a gun on a man he accused of cheating him at cards. Darnell is nothing like his father.”
“So I’ve heard. Bodie was attacked last night by one of Darnell’s men. A fella named Charlie Singleton. Somehow, Bodie killed Singleton and probably thought that he’d hang for it, so he went on the run.”
“Him and that wolf dog of his?”
“Singleton shot the wolf dog but not before it tore a hunk out of his throat, and then the kid finished Singleton off with a couple of bullets through the center of his forehead.”
“That kid sounds pretty hard.”
“He is that, but I also think that he’s salvageable,” Longarm replied. “But if I don’t find him before Darnell and his hunters do, none of it matters, because he’ll be shot on sight.”
“I don’t envy you the job. Ruby came from the town of Bodie. Is that where you’re bound?”
“It is if I don’t find the boy named Bodie hiding out around here. He’s on foot and maybe hurt.”
“I’ll keep my eyes peeled for him. You stayin’ around awhile?”
“Just long enough to rest my horse and make sure that Bodie doesn’t show up.” Longarm hesitated. “Sheriff, I’m dead broke. Any chance I could borrow ten dollars from you until I get Denver to cough up some more travel money?”
“I can do that.”
“You have a telegraph office here?”
“Sure do.”
“I’ll wire for some money this morning before I leave Carson City.”
“Fair enough. And if you’re still in town this evening, stay with me and my wife. Alice is a great cook and we have a spare bedroom.”
“Much obliged,” Longarm said. “But if Bodie is lurking around here, I’ll find him before then.”
“What about Darnell and his boys?”
“If I run across them here in Carson City, I may call on your help.”
The sheriff nodded. “I’ll stand with you.”
“I never doubted that for a moment,” Longarm replied. “Now I’m going to get back on that sorrel and start riding around a little.”
“If you need help . . . need anything, you just come runnin’ and I’ll do what I can. I’m not as quick with a gun as I used to be, but I’m still a damned good shot.”
�
��Thanks, Sheriff.”
Longarm returned to his horse, tightened the cinch, and mounted up. He rode the gelding back to the water trough, let it drink a few more long swallows, and then he reined it toward the river. If he were Bodie, that’s where he’d be hiding right now.
Chapter 22
Longarm rode down near the Carson River, then followed it out a mile or two eastward, toward the little town of Dayton. He didn’t see Bodie, yet he felt the boy must be nearby, unless he’d bought or stolen a horse. Bodie did have a few left of those gold nuggets he’d been given in Denver, and any one of them would have bought him a fast and saddled horse.
And then Longarm saw the kid moving at a crouch along the banks of the river. Longarm touched his heels to the sorrel, sending it forward at a gallop.
“Bodie!”
Bodie whirled at the sound of the voice, just as a rifle’s shot rang out. The kid took off running fast along the riverbank as two mounted riders angled to cut off his escape. Longarm leaned forward in his saddle and drew his gun. He had never had much success shooting accurately from a running horse, and he didn’t want to waste any bullets. But the horsemen were much closer to Bodie than he was, and they were about to overtake the kid and shoot him in the back.
Suddenly, Bodie veered hard up the riverbank, disappeared behind a fallen tree, and opened fire. Longarm did the same, and his surprise attack caught the two horsemen off guard. Flanked on both the front and the back, the hired gunmen were caught in deadly cross fire. They tried to make a run for it, but Bodie and Longarm emptied their pistols and knocked them out of their saddles. One man splashed into the river and the other was thrown off his mount and smashed into a dead tree. Their frightened horses stampeded through the cottonwoods and disappeared.
“Bodie!” Longarm shouted. “It’s me, Marshal Long!”
The kid hadn’t seen the federal marshal on a horse before, and he was so rattled that he almost turned his gun on Longarm.
“Bodie,” Longarm said, drawing the sorrel to a stop at the edge of the river and dismounting. “Settle down, it’s all right now.”