Longarm 382, page 5
The explanation made Longarm feel good. “Mr. Smith, I sincerely appreciate your concern, but my job is to face up to trouble and handle it . . . however I can. Now, I didn’t ask for a fight with your local marshal. He seems to have a bone in his craw and is forcing the issue. What kind of a federal officer of the law would I be if I dodged that kind of trouble?”
“I understand,” Smith said, “but I have also seen Marshal Slocum in a fight or two and he’s always been unbeatable.”
“No man is unbeatable,” Longarm replied. “And besides that, he won’t be losing face at the stable if he backs off.”
“I think you’re being overly optimistic on that point,” the gambler said. “But you’ve been warned and I hope that this all works out fine.”
“Marshal Slocum needs to be taken down a peg or two,” Longarm said, loud enough for everyone at the table to hear. “He was right that I probably should have gone directly to his office from the train, but I didn’t do that and he wouldn’t let me apologize for that small mistake. Instead, Slocum came here angry and looking to insult me, or worse, and so our mistakes canceled each other out. Now it’s time to see if the man is really mad enough to fight . . . or if he has cooled down and wants to be reasonable.”
“I’d think perhaps I should come along,” Miss Allie said.
“Not a chance,” Longarm told her. “If anything, having a beautiful and prosperous woman at the stable would only ensure that the fool’s pride would kick in and he’d insist on a fight.”
“Be careful then,” she warned. “Marshal Slocum carries a sock filled with buckshot and he uses it so that he doesn’t injure his fists.”
“He’s right handed, isn’t he?” Longarm asked.
“Yes, I believe that he is.”
“Then I’ll be ready for the sock, and I appreciate the warning.” Longarm smiled at the hotel guests and tipped his hat to Miss Allie. “Come along Mr. Smith, I’m eager to take a look at that sorrel gelding.”
The walk down to Polk’s Stable was short and without incident. When Longarm arrived at the stable, he saw a bald and worried looking man standing in front of a big barn, wringing the brim of his hat.
“That is Mr. Polk,” Smith whispered. “How you doin’ today, John?”
“Not good. Not good at all,” Polk replied. “Marshal Brady Slocum is waiting inside the barn for your big friend, and he’s out for blood. I don’t want any trouble on my property. I think you should both go back to the hotel until Marshal Slocum cools off a bit.”
“Where is the sorrel horse that you have for sale?” Longarm asked, ignoring the stable owner’s advice.
“He’s out back in a corral. Nicest horse I’ve had to sell in quite some time.”
“How old is he?”
“Oh,” Polk said, “he’s still pretty young. You can see the cups in his teeth and so I’d judge him a four-year-old . . . maybe five. And he’s sound as a dollar and well broke to ride.”
“Have you ridden the animal?” Longarm asked, heading off around the barn to see the sorrel, with Smith and Polk hurrying after him.
“No, I haven’t,” the stable owner admitted. “But I have seen the horse ridden many times. He was owned by a drunken Slash S cowboy who got shot down last month right here in the street. Good cowboy and good horse. Sure was a shame, but . . .”
“Who shot him?” Longarm asked.
“Marshal Slocum. The cowboy was blind drunk and firing his gun while racing that sorrel up and down the street. He was really raising hell, and when the marshal came out and told him to put away his gun and that he was under arrest, the cowboy got mad and spurred his horse right at Marshal Slocum. Would have run the marshal over except that Slocum drew his pistol, fired and shot the young cowboy straight through the heart.”
“Marshal Slocum must be a pretty good man with his gun as well as his sap,” Longarm said.
“Oh, you heard about that sock filled with buckshot that he carries, huh?” Polk said. “He’s real good with that, too.”
“Is that the horse you’re offering for sale?” Longarm asked, rounding the barn and seeing two horses in a pole corral, one a fine sorrel and the other an ugly buckskin with saddle sores on its back.
“That’s the one that the cowboy died on while racin’ up and down the street. You can’t fault the sorrel for what that poor foolish cowboy did to get himself ventilated.”
“No,” Longarm agreed, “you sure can’t. Why don’t you saddle and bridle the animal up and I’ll take a ride to test him out?”
“You won’t be able to ride after I’m finished beating the shit out of you,” Marshal Brady Slocum said, emerging from inside the barn.
Longarm heaved a deep sigh. He had hoped that this man would just go away, but that now seemed not to be the case.
“You really don’t want to fight with me,” he said to the man as he approached.
“I disagree,” Slocum said, knotting his big fists. “I never whipped a federal lawman before, and this is going to be a special treat.”
“I don’t think so,” Longarm said, whipping out his Colt and pointing it at the town’s lawman. “Hold up there and go on living . . . or keep coming and sign your own death warrant.”
Marshal Slocum couldn’t stop fast enough. “You’d shoot me down in cold blood?”
“I’ve got a bandage on my side from a knife wound,” Longarm explained, gun held steady on the man. “So it would be dumb of me to fight and risk tearing the wound open. That being the case, I’ll just have to kill you where you stand unless you offer an apology for your bad behavior and call off this nonsense.”
“The hell with an apology!” Slocum cried. “You’re the one who owes me an apology for not coming right to my office from the train and telling me exactly what you think you’re doing in my town.”
“All right,” Longarm said, forcing a smile. “I was wrong for that and I do apologize. I should have come to meet you straightaway. I didn’t, and that was my mistake. On the other hand, you should not have barged into the Hancock Hotel acting like an idiot and insulting me. So now that I’ve apologized, it’s your turn to offer an apology for your boorish behavior this morning.”
Brady Slocum spat at the dirt. “There’s all the apology you’ll get from me, you federal sonofabitch!”
Longarm had heard and seen enough to finally understand that this was not someone he could reason with or even bury the hatchet with, so he took three quick steps forward and smashed Brady Slocum across the face with the barrel of his pistol.
The town marshal’s nose broke and blood gushed out like a small waterfall. Slocum staggered backward, and that’s when Longarm kicked the man right in the balls. Longarm knocked him out cold with a straight overhand left to the jaw.
Holbrook’s town marshal howled and Longarm kicked the man again under the chin. When Brady Slocum went over backward, there was no question about an apology ever coming from his foul mouth or that he would be able to stand, walk or fight for many a day to come.
“Holy hog fat!” the gambler breathed. “You really beat the hell out of him fast!”
“Slocum was in desperate need of a well-taught lesson in humility.”
The stable owner tore off his hat and began wringing its brim all over again. “Marshal Slocum is never going to let you get away with what you just done to him. He’s going to find a way to even the score, and he won’t rest until you’re dead!”
“Then he’s not long for this world,” Longarm said, holstering his gun. “Now would you please saddle that gelding and then ride him around in the corral for a few minutes so that I can have a look at the way that he moves?”
“Why sure!” Polk said, studying the unconscious town lawman. “But . . .”
“Oh,” Longarm added. “What is your asking price for the horse?”
“Thirty dollars,” Polk managed to say.
“How much did you say?”
Polk wilted under his gaze. “All right, Marshal. Thirty dollars and I’ll throw in a saddle, blanket and bridle. You’ll be stealing him from me at that price.”
Custis glanced at the gambler, who had not taken his eyes off the unconscious Slocum. “How much does Mr. Polk owe you to clear off his gambling debt?”
“Eighteen dollars.”
“In that case,” Longarm said, “if I buy the horse all debts will have been laid to rest.”
“Not that one,” the gambler said, pointing down at Marshal Slocum.
“Oh well,” Longarm said with a shrug of his broad shoulders. “By the time I return from Monument Valley, perhaps your Marshal Slocum will have gained some wisdom.”
“Don’t count on it.”
Longarm didn’t hear the gambler. He was watching the sorrel with a keen and practiced eye. He really liked the animal’s size and conformation. The sorrel was about fifteen hands tall and weighed at least a thousand pounds. It had a handsome head and keen, intelligent eyes. The sorrel appeared to Longarm to be an animal with good sense . . . Too bad he couldn’t say the same for Holbrook’s Marshal Slocum.
Chapter 6
When Longarm returned to the Hancock Hotel, all the guests were sitting in the lobby waiting to hear what had happened between him and Marshal Slocum. Longarm sank down on one of the couches and said, “There’s really nothing to talk about.”
“What happened?” Miss Allie asked. “Didn’t Marshal Slocum show up at Polk’s Stable?”
“Oh, he showed up, and I even apologized to your marshal for not visiting his office first thing after I got off the train.”
“Then the matter was settled amicably?” one of the guests said with a satisfied smile. “That’s sure the best outcome. No sense in having a fight between two lawmen, because then everyone might decide they aren’t reasonable and levelheaded men.”
“Well,” Longarm drawled, “I see your point, but I’m afraid that Marshal Slocum didn’t accept my apology and I had no choice but to deal with him.”
“You and he got into a fight?” Miss Allie asked. “Why, you don’t look any worse for it.”
“It was a very short fight,” Longarm told them. “I thought it wise not to risk any serious injury by getting into a rough-and-tumble brawl with your marshal, so I settled the issue as quickly as possible.”
The gambler came into the lobby. “He pistol-whipped Slocum across the face, busting his nose. Then he kicked him a couple of times and knocked him out colder than an iced codfish.”
“You knocked out Brady Slocum?” Miss Allie asked.
“He really gave me no choice. And if I were on the Holbrook City Council, I’d start looking for a new town marshal, because Brady Slocum isn’t mentally stable. At least, that’s my opinion.”
Everyone was quiet for a moment, and then Miss Allie said, “I don’t suppose you’d be interested in replacing Marshal Slocum.”
“Afraid not,” Longarm said. “In the first place, I like being a Federal Marshal and working out of Denver, and in the second place, I probably make considerably more money than you pay your town marshal. Isn’t there anyone here who you can think of that would be interested in that job?”
“Not while Slocum is wearing a badge, there isn’t.” Miss Allie frowned. “Perhaps what you did to Brady Slocum was in his own best interests. And by that I mean taking a beating might have given him a taste of his own medicine and made him a better man.”
“There is always that possibility,” Longarm replied. “I’m leaving tomorrow morning and riding north. When I return, if Brady Slocum wants to sit down and talk about how a lawman should carry out his business and act so that he earns respect instead of fear, then I’d be happy to meet with the man.”
“I don’t think that will be Marshal Slocum’s reaction,” the gambler said. “To be a successful gambler, you really have to be able to read men . . . and the way I read our town marshal is that he is bad to the bone.”
“I agree,” another guest said. “What happened this morning is going to make him even more mean and unreasonable.”
Longarm glanced at Miss Allie, who said, “I’m afraid I also have to agree with those two opinions. Brady Slocum was bad before now and he’ll be even worse after the beating you just gave him.”
“In that case, I’d better run the man out of town before I leave,” Longarm said. “Otherwise, I’ve just created a bad situation for you.”
“Are you going to forcibly put him on the train?” one of the guests asked.
“Does he have any family here?”
“No,” Allie said. “He’s a bachelor and has almost no friends.”
“Then I’ll see that he takes the first train out of Holbrook today,” Longarm decided. “Talk to your mayor or whoever pays the man and make sure that Slocum is paid in full for his time here in office. Holbrook needs to be as fair about this as possible in firing the man. Maybe Slocum will make a fresh start somewhere else and see the error in his past ways.”
“I doubt that,” Allie told him. “Just be careful when you put him on the train because I think he’s perfectly capable of shooting you in the back as the train pulls out of the station.”
“Thanks for the warning,” Longarm said. “What train comes through next?”
“The eastbound at ten minutes after eleven this morning.”
“Then that’s the one I’ll put Slocum on,” Longarm told them. “In the meantime, I was wondering if Fergus Horn has any friends in this town. I’m looking to talk to someone who might know what he’s been up to lately.”
“When Fergus is in Holbrook he always stops by to see Dan Shelby. Dan is a gunsmith who sells rifles, pistols and knives to both Indians and whites. His shop is located just up the street.”
“Then I believe that I’ll go and pay him a visit before I collect Brady Slocum and put him on the eastbound,” Longarm told everyone. “But first I need to go up to my room and change my bandage.”
“Do you need any fresh bandaging or tape?” Miss Allie asked.
“As a matter of fact, I do,” Longarm told her.
“I’ll get some and be right up to your room,” she offered.
“Much obliged, Miss Allie.”
Longarm went up to his room and took off his coat, vest, string tie and shirt. He had been in such a hurry this morning to get down to breakfast on time that he had not changed his bandages. Standing in front of a little mirror and looking at the stitches that Molly Malloy had put in his side to close up the knife wound, he thought that he ought to sit down and write her a brief note just to say that he’d arrived safely in Holbrook, Arizona Territory. No need to explain the trouble he’d just had with the town marshal. He’d try to remember to buy her a nice piece of polished petrified wood as a little gift upon his return.
“Marshal, are you decent?” came Miss Allie’s voice from the hallway. “I’ve got some clean bandaging for you.”
“Come on in, but I have to confess that I’m not always ‘decent’ around someone as pretty as yourself, Miss Allie.”
She laughed and came inside. “My land!” she exclaimed. “You’ve got more scars on your body than cards in a full deck.”
“Not quite,” he told her. “But I’ve been in quite a few bad scrapes. I heal quickly, though.”
“Let me see that wound you’ve got stitched up,” she said, placing the bandages down on the bed and coming over to inspect his side. “Kinda sloppy work for a doctor, I’d have to say.”
“A doctor didn’t do the stitching,” Longarm told her. “It was done by a friend of mine because I was in a big hurry to catch the train out of Denver.”
“Well, he must have been in a hurry as well.”
“It wasn’t a he. It was a she.”
“Oh, I see. You have a lady friend and I’ll just bet that you’ve set a wedding date, too.”
“Miss Malloy would like to set a date, but I’m resisting,” he told her. “I’d make the worst kind of husband, but Molly stubbornly refuses to accept that.”
“Some women are blind when it comes to a tall, handsome man with some breeding.”
“Is that how you see me?”
“It is,” Miss Allie told him. “Now let me clean this up a bit because it is oozing. Then I’ll put a fresh bandage on it and you’ll be all fixed up and ready to face Brady Slocum. You can put him on the train and get that bad apple out of our lives forever.”
“You sound as if you really dislike your marshal.”
“In the worst way,” she told him. “I campaigned hard against him but he ran off his only challenger and so there was no alternative but to hire Slocum. I warned the town council that he would be a terrible mistake but they ignored me and now we’re all paying for it.”
“No longer,” he assured her. “The man is going to get a one-way ticket on the eastbound train.”
Miss Allie smiled. “I’m grateful to you for that. I wish that you were staying here a few days longer.”
“I’ve got a job to do, and the sooner I get up to Monument Valley and find out what Fergus Horn is up to and what is going on with his wife, the sooner I’ll be finished.”
“I hope she’s all right. I don’t think that such a woman should be up in that hard country, and certainly not with a husband like Fergus Horn. The man is not to be trusted.”
“So I’ve heard,” Longarm told her as he dressed and then strapped on his gun belt. “Well, I’m going to talk to your gunsmith and then go find Slocum and tell him that he’s on his way out of town.”
“Just be careful,” Miss Allie warned. “Because I can’t even imagine the terrible rage that is boiling in his twisting guts.”
“I’ll be very careful,” Longarm promised as he headed out the door and down the hallway to the stairs leading into the lobby.
Longarm was halfway down the stairs when he sensed something was wrong in the hotel lobby. At the bend in the stair’s landing he paused and then realized that the hotel’s guests were wearing expressions of fear.
