Longarm and the Skull Mountain Gold, page 1
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
LONGARM AND THE INNOCENT MAN
A Bone-Chilling Discovery…
Lila spurred her horse into a trot and suddenly saw something a lot more chilling than she could have ever imagined finding on Skull Mountain.
“Holy cow!” Ned whispered, hauling up on his reins and staring. “Are those human skeletons?”
“I’m afraid so.”
Lila dismounted and, with her Winchester still clenched tightly in her fist, she went to the four broken and chewed-up skeletons. She wouldn’t have known for certain that there were four if it hadn’t been for the skulls, because the body bones had been scattered over what had once been a prospector’s camp.
“What do you think happened!” Ned cried. “Did that grizzly kill and then eat them all?”
“Not unless she was carrying a rifle,” Lila replied, her voice quiet and low. “Because what I’m seeing are bullet holes in the skulls.”
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
LONGARM AND THE SKULL MOUNTAIN GOLD
A Jove Book / published by arrangement with the author
PRINTING HISTORY Jove edition / February 2010
All rights reserved.
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Chapter 1
Longarm was feeling poor, mighty damn poor. He’d been a United States Deputy Marshal for many years, but he never seemed to be able to get ahead financially. Where did all of his money go after each paycheck? Well, for one thing, he was sending money to a destitute widow in Wyoming who had lost her husband in a stagecoach holdup. The woman had four little kids and a slew of bills that had mounted up while trying to save her husband’s life. The wounded man had eventually died, and now his widow was faced with losing her homestead and every other thing that she and her deceased husband had ever owned. On top of that there were a couple of other people that Longarm regularly sent a few dollars to, including a Navajo boy in Arizona who had broken his back chasing mustangs and was now partially paralyzed. The boy had helped Longarm track a vicious killer across his huge reservation and had risked his life to save Longarm’s skin. Now the kid needed money for an operation by a renowned Philadelphia surgeon or else he’d never walk again. Longarm just couldn’t bear the idea of the kid never walking again. And then there were Longarm’s own needs, which, although he was a bachelor, seemed considerable because he had a few expensive tastes. He insisted on good food, stayed away from bad liquor, and loved to entertain an unending flow of beautiful and willing women.
So that Monday morning, as he climbed the steps of the U.S. Marshal’s office near the Denver Mint, Longarm was determined to have a showdown with his friend and his boss, Marshal Billy Vail. He would demand a raise, which he had not received in over three years. He’d explain to Billy that he simply had to make more money . . . or else find another line of work. After all, he wasn’t getting any younger, and given the risks he took in his job, he deserved to be paid double the sixty dollars a month he was currently receiving. And he’d even talked to the local sheriff, who had offered him a job starting at seventy-five dollars a month. Hell, Longarm thought, the Denver sheriff knows I’m worth every penny of that and more.
“I’d like to see Billy this morning,” Longarm told the man’s new secretary, a middle-aged woman who looked owlish in her thick glasses.
“Is Marshal Vail expecting you this morning?” the woman demanded in a way that Longarm didn’t care for in the least.
Longarm frowned and glared at the woman in his most menacing fashion. This was a new secretary and she didn’t seem to understand that he was the best United States Marshal in the building, and when he wanted to see the boss, he sure didn’t have to make any damned appointment.
“Ma’am, Billy and I go back a long, long ways, and I can go in to see him any time that I want.”
“He’s seeing someone else right now,” the woman announced. “And I don’t think he wants to be interrupted.”
“Well,” Longarm said, stepping around the woman’s desk and heading for Billy Vail’s private office, “I don’t care if he’s seeing the president of the United States right now.”
“Wait, please!”
But Longarm was in no mood to wait, so he barged into Billy’s office and skidded to a stop on the polished hardwood floor. Billy held a pretty young woman in his arms and she definitely was not his devoted wife and the mother of his children.
“Oh,” Longarm said, shocked and at a loss for words. “I didn’t know you were . . .”
“This is not what it appears to be,” Billy said, still holding the beautiful woman.
“Glad to hear that,” Longarm said, backing toward the doorway. “I’ll come back later.”
“Sit down,” Billy ordered. “Miss Chandler was just about to leave.”
“Not on my account, I hope.”
The woman took a silk handkerchief from her purse and wiped her eyes, which were red from prolonged crying. Longarm felt awful for his rude intrusion and he apologized. “Miss, I’m sorry to have interrupted you and Billy. I mean, Marshal Vail.”
“It’s all right,” she said, managing a smile.
Longarm couldn’t help but notice that she was probably about twenty-five, stood about five feet ten inches, and was stunning. She had a heart-shaped face, blue eyes, and blonde hair. Her figure, from what he could tell, was voluptuous. She wore a turquoise and silver bracelet with matching earrings, but no wedding ring.
Longarm removed his snuff-brown Stetson and offered the lady a slight bow. He was, after all, a gentleman, a man born and raised well in West Virginia, and one who had been taught to respect all women, even whores, unless they proved to be so uncouth as to be unworthy of his respect.
“Pleased to meet you, Miss Chandler.”
Billy released the woman, who then took Longarm’s hand in her own and said, “Likewise, I’m sure.”
Billy said, “Miss Lila Chandler is from around Grants, New Mexico, where her family has a small cattle ranch. Longarm, you may remember her father, the legendary Marshal Kenyon Chandler.”
A light turned on in Longarm’s head and he replied, “I certainly do. Kenyon Chandler was the federal marshal who single-handedly tracked down the Brody Gang and killed all three brothers in a Santa Fe saloon shoot-out about ten years ago.”
The young woman lifted her chin proudly. “Yes, that’s my father. He was shot three times in that fight but still managed to come out of that saloon standing. I’m proud to say that the Brody brothers went out feet first and our territory was rid of some of the worst and most vicious white men in its storied history.”
“Is your father still a United States Marshal?”
“That’s the discussion we were just having when you busted in here without any announcement,” Billy said. “I was just telling Miss Lila Chandler how much we respect her father and wish him the best in his retirement.”
“But he doesn’t want to retire!” Lila cried out. “My poor father can’t afford to retire because both he and Mother are sick and need medical care. My parents are destitute! Destitute, Marshal Vail! We all know that my father has given his life to upholding the law in New Mexico Territory. He’s been shot, stabbed, and beaten, and now put out to pasture where there isn’t a blade of grass to eat. Please, Marshal Vail, the long and dangerous years my dear father served this country ought to be worth some kind of reward. Some kind of just payment now in his time of greatest need.”
“I’m sorry about your father,” Billy said, looking upset and deeply moved by the woman’s pleas. “I really am. Marshal Kenyon Chandler is an American hero. There has never been a finer U.S. Marshal. But what can I do?”
“Petition the United States Congress or the president or someone to help my father. After all his years of duty and service to our country, a federal pension of only eleven dollars a month is an insult!”
“Eleven dollars?” Longarm blurted. “Is that all Marshal Chandler is going to receive?”
“That’s right. Why, given the many lingering injuries he suffered in the line of duty, that doesn’t even pay his doctor bills, much less his other expenses. We’ve sold our cattle and horses. We’ve mortgaged our ranch to the hilt, and now we’re going to lose it if something can’t be done.”
Lila turned away for a moment, overcome with emotion.
Longarm turned to Billy. “Marshal Chandler only gets eleven dollars a month?”
Billy couldn’t meet his eyes and walked slowly around behind his desk, finally taking a seat and then running his hand across his face. “Custis, I know that is a pittance, but the United States Congress is long overdue in raising the pensions of its long-faithful and retired law officers. There has been talk of doubling the pension and even adding some extra for those that have suffered permanent injuries due to their service to this country . . . but the money has so far not been authorized.”
“Then see if you can help get it authorized!” Lila Chandler pleaded. “My father is in failing health. He carries a bullet in his side that is slowly working its way deeper toward his heart! He can’t afford surgery to have that bullet removed and now he can’t even afford to help Mother survive.”
“It’s a travesty,” Longarm growled. “An insult.”
“Of course it is,” Lila said. “And you’ll be treated the same some day when you’re old and suffering like my father from all the injuries you’ve received in the line of duty.”
“I’ll write my superiors in Washington, D.C.,” Billy vowed, fists clenched. “I’ll tell them that Marshal Kenyon Chandler is a hero out in the West and they simply have to find money to help him in his time of need.”
Miss Chandler nodded. “Thank you so much, Marshal Vail. When will you write this letter?”
“Today! I’ll write it today and put it in the strongest words possible,” Billy promised.
She smiled. “That’s wonderful news. How soon would this letter be read by your superiors in Washington, D.C.?”
“In a week or ten days.”
“And then may I ask what most likely will happen?”
“I really don’t know,” Billy admitted. “But if I don’t hear something positive in your father’s desperate case, then I’ll send a telegram directly to the president of these United States.”
“Thank you so much! My father told me that you would do your very best to try and help him and my mother.”
“I can’t promise you or your father anything, Miss Chandler. I’m just a public servant and my voice is a long way from Washington and the powers that be. But I give you my solemn word of honor that I will not let this matter of your father and his pitiful pension slip from my mind for a single moment. We will get some help for him or . . .”
“Or what?” Longarm asked, knowing that his boss had no influence in the nation’s capitol.
“Or I’ll use my own vacation time and take a train to Washington where I’ll personally present myself and plead for financial help for Marshal Kenyon Chandler.”
Lila Chandler wiped her eyes dry and said, “Marshal Vail, my father always said you were a fine and honest man. He said that you’d do your very best to help him out. And now that I’ve met with you and spoken of my father’s sad situation, I’m sure that he was right about you.”
“I’m touched and honored,” Billy said, rising from his desk chair. “Where are you staying right now in Denver?”
“At the Belleview Hotel. I’ve got a return train ticket for this coming Saturday and I know that my parents are praying for your help and support. I would send them an immediate telegram except that . . .”
“That what?” Longarm asked.
“I’m very short of funds,” she admitted. “But that’s neither here nor there. As long as my father gets some help, then I’ll go to any sacrifice.”
“They will have help, and soon,” Billy promised.
Miss Lila Chandler seemed too overcome to reply, so she turned and left the office.
“Custis, please close my door and have a chair,” Billy said, sounding subdued after the young woman had departed.
Longarm closed the door, his mind on the woman and what she had just told them. “Well, Billy, what do you think will happen in response to your Washington, D.C., letter?”
“I’m afraid that absolutely nothing will happen,” Billy replied, pacing back and forth in front of his upstairs office window. “The government is in terrible financial shape and they are actually talking about cutting the salaries of federal officers, past and present.”
“Cutting!” Longarm shouted, anger surging through his veins. “Billy, we are hardly earning a living wage right now! And hearing that a legend like Kenyon Chandler is only receiving a lousy eleven bucks a month in retirement pay is unbelievable.”
“It’s true,” Billy said. “I had my secretary check. That’s what Chandler is receiving and there are no pension raises in sight. Perhaps even a cut in pensions.”
“That’s an outrage,” Longarm said hotly. “Out in the field we risk our lives while back in Washington the only thing they risk is indigestion from too much rich food and hangovers from too much fine French wine and caviar.”
Billy managed a thin smile. “Nobody said life was fair, Custis. And when you hired on to be a federal officer of the law, you knew what the job paid.”
