Longarm and the Bandit Queen

by Tabor Evans

  "Your eyesight's bad, Floyd. You can see who I am," Longarm replied. He kept his voice even. He didn't want a showdown with Floyd, but he couldn't let the outlaw back him down, either.

  "Where'd You come from?" Floyd demanded.

  "Outside."

  "God damn it, that's no answer!" Floyd was whipping up his anger. When Longarm said nothing, Floyd turned to Belle. "You know him, Belle?"

  "No. Yazoo does, though. He said he was all right."

  "What the hell does that old whiskeypot know about anything?" Floyd demanded of no one in particular.

  Belle said sharply, "You listen to me, Floyd Sharpless! This is my place you're on. I told Windy he was welcome here, just like I've told you. But You won't be welcome if you keep trying to stir up trouble, do You understand me?"

  "I understand You," Floyd shot back hotly. "That don't mean I'm going to leave off until I find out about this Windy here."

  "Let me tell you something else," Belle said. "Mckee had his hand on his gun before Windy went for his. Windy had a bullet through Mckee before he could get his gun up and let off a shot. And Mckee was quicker than you are."

  "Quit trying to scare me, Belle."

  "I'm not trying to scare you, I'm just trying to hammer some sense into your head. Now I'll tell you flat out, Floyd, give up on Mckee and why he had a shootout with Windy--it's not your affair. It happened before you and Mckee hooked up. And if you're not careful, all those big plans you've been making are going right out to the hogpen, because if you break my rule against fighting here, I'm going to invite you to leave Younger's Bend."

  "How the hell is my plan going to work without Mckee?" Floyd demanded. "You know I was depending on him, Belle."

  "There'll be somebody else along to fill his place," she said.

  Steed had been quiet, standing at one side of the room while Floyd and Belle argued. Now he said, "Belle's right, Floyd. We still got Bobby. And Taylor's due to blow in pretty soon."

  "That's still only four," Floyd pointed out. "All of us agreed we need at least five, and six would be better."

  Longarm's interest had been growing ever since the subject of plans had come up. In Floyd's terms, that could only mean a major job of outlawry, especially if it required a half-dozen men to carry it out. He said nothing, though, letting Belle and Floyd settle the dispute he'd caused between them.

  Belle said, "Let's get this settled once and for all, Floyd. I had as much to do with that plan as you did. I want to see you go through with it. Now, take my word, I'll find somebody to fill in for Mckee."

  Floyd's anger had been deflected from Longarm by his dispute with Belle. He said bitterly, "Sure. Who's it going to be? Yazoo?"

  "Who wants me?" Yazoo stirred and sat up. He looked around the room with bleary eyes.

  "Nobody wants you, old man," Floyd replied. "Go on back to sleep and sober up."

  "Stay awake, Yazoo," Belle commanded.

  Yazoo looked from Belle to Floyd and said, "I wish you two'd make up your mind." He reached for the whiskey bottle on the table.

  Belle turned back to Floyd and said, "You'd better have a drink with him, Floyd, and take that edge off your nerves. Sit down now, and don't stir up any more trouble with Windy."

  Floyd glared at her angrily, but obeyed. He took a chair and placed it as far from Longarm as the size of the table permitted.

  "Sam, get the food dished up," Belle told her husband.

  Starr had been standing indecisively at one side of the room, close to Bobby, during the argument between Belle and Floyd. He took a stack of plates out of one of the KC Baking Powder boxes nailed to the wall, and distributed them around the table. Steed and Bobby moved up to sit down, Belle watched them for a moment before joining them, then chose a place next to Longarm.

  "Things aren't like this every day," she told him.

  "I guess the ruckus is mostly my fault," Longarm said. "Sorry I stirred things up, Belle. But like you told Floyd a minute ago, you saw how it all happened."

  "I know it wasn't your fault, Windy. Nobody's blaming you for anything." Belle seemed pleased that Longarm had made the gesture of apologizing. She went on, "I like my guests to get along together, but You men do disagree now and then."

  Sam began dishing up. He walked around the table, ladling out stew onto the plates. Longarm looked at his serving. There were chunks of meat and pieces of carrot, Onion, and potato in a thin gravy. Next to him, Yazoo was already eating hungrily.

  Belle noticed Longarm's hesitation. "Sam's a better cook than you might think, Windy. Eat up. You'll like it." Longarm said, "I bet I will, at that." He took a sample bite, found the stew edible, and continued to eat.

  Sam brought a pan of biscuits from the stove and put it in the middle of the table. Longarm and Floyd reached at the same time, and their hands met over the biscuit pan.

  "Help yourself, Floyd," Longarm invited. "I ain't in all that big a hurry."

  Floyd grunted and seemed about to speak, but changed his mind. He took a biscuit and went back to his food. Apparently he'd decided to leave matters as they were, at least for the moment.

  Sam saw that the biscuit pan was empty, and brought a full one to replace it. Then he went back to the stove, pulled a chair up to it, and began to eat his own meal off the warming shelf. Since no one commented on this, or invited Starr to join the group at the table, Longarm got a pretty clear idea of the status Belle's husband held at Younger's Bend.

  Supper was a generally silent meal. Yazoo and Belle were the only ones at the table who had much to say, and when their efforts to start a conversation met with no response from Floyd, Steed, or Longarm, they subsided. Sam Starr kept an eye on the table, and when a plate was emptied, he brought the stew pot from the stove to replenish it. Longarm took a second helping, as did everyone except Belle. The stew was surprisingly tasty, though privately Longarm thought that no stew would ever be a substitute for a good steak served up with a heap of fried potatoes on the platter with it.

  "You'd better let the dishes go until later, Sam," Belle said when it was apparent that everyone had finished. "I'd like to see Mckee buried before it gets too dark, and you've still got the grave to dig."

  Floyd spoke up, "You never mind about burying Mckee, Sam. Me and Steed will take care of that."

  "I don't recall offering to take on the job," Steed said.

  "Shut up, Steed," Floyd snapped. "Mckee was our partner. It's only right to see he's put away proper."

  Bobby had been as silent as everyone else during the meal; he'd let his eyes follow every move made by Floyd and Steed, and was obviously doing his best to follow whatever example they set. Now the young outlaw asked Floyd, "How come you didn't say anything about me? If I'm in with you and Steed, I guess I can do my share too."

  "Of course you can, Bobby," Steed assured him. He stood up and began preparing the dishpan. Yazoo took another drink.

  Belle turned to Longarm and said, "There's a cabin vacant, the one on the far end, past Steed and Bobby's and the one where Mckee was staying with Floyd. I guess you can have it, provided you don't mind sharing it with Taylor when he gets here."

  "I'd be better off there than sharing with Floyd," Longarm said, straight-faced.

  "I can fix you up a shakedown here in the house, if you'd rather," Belle suggested. "It'd just be a pallet over against the wall there, though."

  "Be glad to have you bunk with me up at the stillhouse, Windy," Yazoo offered. His voice was slurred and he had trouble focusing his eyes. "We could talk about old times."

  "Now, Windy doesn't want to stay up there," Belle told Yazoo. "The smell of that mash would keep him from sleeping." She smiled at Longarm as she spoke.

  "I'll settle for the cabin," Longarm said. He'd decided it was time to establish the fact that he hadn't come looking for charity. He took out the drawstring pouch Gower had given him, and spilled some of the coins from it to the tabletop. Belle's eyes widened, and so did Yazoo's, at the sight of the gold pieces.

&nbs
p; Longarm went on, "You said your going rate's five dollars a day, Belle. I don't know how long I'm going to be around, so suppose I just pay you for two or three days. If I stay longer, I'll pony up with it when this has been used up." He shoved an eagle and a half eagle along the table to Belle, and gathered the remaining coins into the pouch.

  "You didn't need to pay anything at all right now, Windy," Belle said. She picked up the gold pieces, however. "Your credit's good here."

  Longarm stood up. "I don't reckon you set a night guard, do you?"

  "Why should I?" Belle asked. "Oh, if we're looking for trouble, we'll keep watch at night. But there's no reason to, otherwise."

  "Good," he said. "Well, I'll mosey on down and settle in, then, before it gets too dark to see."

  "There's a lamp in the cabin," Starr volunteered. "And a water bucket. You've seen where the well is, I guess."

  "Sure. I'll get along fine, Sam. I'm used to looking out for myself." Longarm started for the door. "I'll see you at breakfast, I guess. Right now, a bed's going to look pretty good. I rode a long ways, these last few days."

  He went on outside and started for the barn, where his horse was still hitched to the pole. Before he'd gotten well off the porch, Belle called to him. She came up to him when he stopped and turned around.

  "Don't be too quick with your gun if you hear somebody walking around after dark. I usually take a little stroll before I go to bed, walk down to the bluff and look at the river in the moonlight, or just go around making sure everything's all right."

  "I see." Longarm saw only too well. "All right, Belle. I'D be careful."

  "You do that. Because if you hear anybody, it'll just be me. I always like to be sure my guests are comfortable." She paused and added in a suggestive whisper, "Comfortable, and well-cared-for, too. I'll see you later, then."

  Longarm stood looking at Belle's back as she walked to the house.

  CHAPTER 7

  In the fading light that trickled through the paneless window and the open door, Longarm surveyed the interior of the cabin. It was tiny, but its very bareness made it look larger than it was.

  A pair of narrow bunks were attached to opposite walls at one end; they were bare except for thin mattresses, and the straw with which the mattresses were stuffed protruded here and there through holes in the ticking. The bunks had no Pillows. At the other end of the bleak, uninviting room stood the inevitable monkey stove, a low sheet-iron oval fed through a door in one end, with a single pothole on its top for cooking. A table and two chairs completed the furnishings, An oil lamp stood on the table, and the water bucket Sam Starr had mentioned was behind the stove.

  Longarm studied the window. It had no outside shutters, and its location, high in the end wall between the two bunks, made both of them vulnerable. Anybody tall enough to stick a gun through the window could rain bullets on either bunk while the thick timber walls protected him from return fire.

  You better sit down and do a little bit of thinking about this mess you walked into, old son, Longarm told himself.

  He lighted the lamp, just in case anybody in the house glanced down that way, took the partly full bottle of Maryland rye and his gun-cleaning kit from his saddlebags, and went back into the cabin. As an afterthought, he went back out and fixed in his mind the locations of the cabins occupied by Floyd, Steed, and Bobby. Neither of them was more than a dozen yards away. Back in the cabin, he leaned back in the sturdier of its two straight chairs, lighted a cheroot, and let a swallow of rye trickle down his throat.

  If I aim to sleep on one of them bunks tonight, he thought, chances are I just might not wake up tomorrow morning. Not with Floyd doing everything but coming right out and saying he figures to cut me down first chance he gets.

  He took another conservative sip of the whiskey, and began to clean his Colt. And then there's Belle, his thoughts ran on. She's made it right plain she's got plans to drop in during the night, and that's one lady I got to be one hell of a lot hornier than I am right now to give stud service to. Except, if I aim to stay here until I dig out what Floyd's cooking up, I can't afford to make her mad and have her hand me my walking papers.

  Before considering the alternatives to a night in the cabin, Longarm had another swallow of the rye. After the corn squeezings he'd had before supper, he needed the sharp bite of the rye to clear his throat. Then he carefully reloaded his revolver and holstered it.

  Now, I could go sleep up at the stillhouse, but it's a toss-up which smells worse, Yazoo or the barrels of corn mash he's bound to have fermenting up there.

  There's the main house, but if Belle's taken a notion to come crawl in with me, she'd be likely to do it there, even with Sam asleep in the next room.

  The thing for you to do, old son, is bunk in the barn. Good clean hay's going to smell better than either one of them mattresses. If anybody comes prowling, chances are one of the horses'll nicker. If Belle don't find me here, she'll likely figure I decided to sleep out in case Floyd might take a notion to pay me back during the night for shooting Mckee.

  Having made up his mind, Longarm saw no need to hurry. He sat quietly until he'd finished his cigar; there'd be no smoking during the night in the barn, with the hay he'd glimpsed piled high along one wall ready to go up in flames if touched by a match or an unextinguished cigar butt. It was fully dark when he blew out the lamp and led his horse back to the barn. Moving quietly, he led the hammerhead bay into the barn and tethered it, then went to stand at one corner of the house. There was no need to get very close, or strain his ears, to hear the conversation going on inside. Floyd was saying, "God damn it, Yazoo, think harder! You got to remember where you seen this Windy fellow before!"

  "I've tried all I got the power to." Yazoo's voice was tired and his words slurred. "I told you twenty times, it could've been just about anyplace. I tossed the names of a lot of places at him, but he didn't remember, either."

  "Now listen, Yazoo," Steed began, but Yazoo had apparently had enough questioning.

  "No, Steed. I ain't flogging my brain for you men another minute. Not tonight, at least. I got a batch of mash cooking, and I'm going up and stir it good, and then I'm going to bed."

  Longarm stepped back into the shadow of the barn while Yazoo staggered across the narrow porch, managed to navigate the steps without falling down them, and started weaving toward the grove of trees in which the illegal still stood.

  Belle's voice broke the silence next. "Why are you so set on finding out about Windy, Floyd? He seems all right to me. And I'm like Yazoo; I've got a feeling I've seen him before. Maybe when I was riding with Jim Reed down in Texas, or somewhere else."

  Steed grumbled, "He's with us now, Belle, and if we're his own kind, how come he don't open up more?"

  "Because he's careful!" Belle snapped.

  "Just the same, he ought to open up a little bit more. Hell, he could be anybody, for all we know!" Floyd grumbled.

  "Yeah." This was Bobby's light voice. "How do we know he's all right, Belle?"

  "Because I've got a feeling he is!" Belle said curtly.

  "That ain't good enough for me," Floyd retorted. "I want him to give us names and tell us about places." Belle said, "Now, Floyd, if you were on the prod, you wouldn't be going around telling everybody you're Floyd Sharpless, and there's reward money posted for you in St. Joe and Springville and wherever else you've been tagged with a job."

  "I guess not," Floyd admitted reluctantly. "But I knew Mckee better than anybody else. We never did hold back a thing from each other, after we commenced traveling together, And I never heard him say a word about having a standing grudge with a man that fits Windy's looks."

  Steed's tough voice rumbled, "That don't signify, Floyd. Mckee might've kept quiet about something like that, especially if he tangled with Windy and come off sucking a hind tit."

  "He might have," Floyd agreed, with doubt in his voice.

  "Not likely, though, Steed. Well, I'm going to set myself to find out. And maybe I won't even
wait to find out before I even my score with him."

  "I don't see you've got a score to even with him, Floyd," Sam Starr said. "It was Mckee's grudge, not yours."

  "I got a right to make it mine if I feel like it," Floyd replied.

  "Sure, but I'd watch myself if I was you," Starr said. "Belle and me saw that ruckus, remember. Mckee had his gun half out before Windy drew. And then Windy moved faster than any man I ever saw. He shot straight, too; you saw where the slug went."

  "I can take care of myself," Floyd retorted. "All of you just remember, stand aside if trouble starts between me and Windy."

  "From the way Windy was holding back, if trouble starts between you and him it will be your idea," Belle said. "Remember, Floyd, I don't allow my guests to fight each other--fists, knives, or guns."

  "All right, Belle, I'll try not to push," Floyd promised. "But if anything does get going, I'll damn sure finish it."

  There was a scraping of chair legs on the bare wooden floor of the house. Once again, Longarm stepped back into the blackness under the barn's overhanging roof. He couldn't see Floyd, Steed, and Bobby until they'd gotten a few steps from the house, but he could hear them.

  Floyd said, "All that digging's made my back ache. I was sort of figuring we could all set down and figure out how we could handle everything without Mckee, but I don't feel like it."

  "I just as soon put it off till Taylor gets here," Steed replied. "All I want to do right now is go drop in my bunk."

  "Yeah. Me too," Bobby said.

  Longarm shook his head at the youth's echoing of Steed. He'd seen the likes of Bobby before--a youngster taken in by the stories of glamorous outlaw lives. He'd seen such youngsters try to capture some of the glamor by joining forces with older, more experienced men, and come up against hard reality. Out of every ten, five gave up and went straight. Out of the other five, one or two survived.