by Tabor Evans
"I don't know what you're all thinking about!" Susanna burst out. "Lonnie just died, and everybody's fighting and arguing! Windy, is there somewhere around here that you can take me where I can just be quiet a little while?"
"Sure, Susanna. I'll walk you down to my cabin. You're tuckered out anyhow, and you need to rest up awhile."
Belle said, "Listen, missy. You're new at this game. I'm Belle Starr, the Bandit Queen, and I've seen a lot of men die, including a husband or two. You'll find out, after you've been around awhile, that when something bad happens, you can't waste time mourning over it. You grit your teeth and laugh if you can, and you go on living!"
"Well, it seems real heartless to me!" Susanna said. Her eyes were still dry, but her mouth was drawn down at the corners and her chin was trembling.
"You'll think differently after you've lived a little bit longer," Belle said. Then, turning to Longarm, "Go ahead, Windy. Take her down to your place and let her sleep a while; that's what she needs. You come back when you get hungry. Sam's going to have breakfast ready pretty soon."
As they walked across the rough, rock-strewn soil of Younger's Bend to the cabin Longarm was supposed to be occupying, the lawman realized that Susanna was suffering from exhaustion as well as from a delayed reaction to Taylor's death. She stumbled several times on pebbles during the short walk from the house, and, halfway there, her legs began to tremble and her body to wobble.
"Help me, Windy!" she pleaded. "I don't think I can walk the rest of the way by myself."
Longarm put an arm around Susanna and supported her until they got into the cabin. He led her to one of the bunks. She slumped down on it, and he lifted her legs onto the tattered mattress. "Thank you, Windy," she said. "All of a sudden, I'm so... soo... sleepy..."
Her words trailed off with a sigh. Her breathing, which had been ragged, almost spasmodic, settled down into the easy regularity of sleep. Longarm stood for a moment, looking down at her.
Now, in real light, he could see that she must be past her mid-twenties. At the corners of her eyes, fine lines promised crow's-feet soon to show. Delicate lines were also faintly visible running from her nostrils to the corners of her mouth. The mouth itself was almost perfectly circular, with lip-peaks and corners almost imperceptible; her lips were virtually the same width all the way around the small, slightly protruding teeth that showed when her lips were parted with her breathing. Her chin was round, like that of a child whose face is just settling into adulthood. Under her thin dress, the twin globes of firm, round breasts jutted high. Her long ashen hair lay tumbled around her head and shoulders.
Longarm left Susanna sleeping and walked back to the house, where the argument had shifted from the job planned by Floyd to a dispute over who was going to dig Taylor's grave.
"Damned if I'm going to push that shovel into this hard dirt ever again!" Floyd proclaimed. "Mckee was my partner a long time. Taylor I don't hardly know."
"You'll have to bury him then, Sam," Belle told Starr, who had apparently returned from the barn. "But if you can get Floyd to help you carry him up to the grove, you can put off digging his grave until Yazoo shows up to help you."
Longarm waited outside until Starr and Floyd came out, carrying Taylor's body between them. He'd learned the army lesson that began somewhere in the dim past, with Attila's hordes or Caesar's legions, never to volunteer. When Floyd and Starr rounded the corner of the house on their way to the grove, he went inside.
Belle sat in a chair at the table, staring at the bloodstained tabletop. "You'll have to wait until Sam gets back and scrubs the table before we can have breakfast," she said. "Unless you want to wash it yourself."
"I'll wait," Longarm told her curtly. "I want a drink before I eat, anyhow."
"There's coffee on the stove and some whiskey left in the bottle," she informed him. "Take your choice."
"Meaning no offense toward your whiskey, Belle, but I've got what's left of a bottle of Maryland rye out in the barn. I'll just step out and get it."
"What's wrong with Younger's Bend whiskey?" she demanded. "Yazoo is as good a whiskey-maker as any you'll find in a regular distillery."
"Oh, there ain't a thing wrong with your liquor, if a man relishes corn whiskey. Just happens I've got a taste for rye."
"Have what you choose," she said curtly. "I don't give a damn."
Not wanting to offend her further by bringing his bottle of rye into the house, Longarm had a sip in the barn, lighted a fresh cheroot, and had a second sip before going back. Yazoo was there, and relatively sober. His eyes were rheumy, but his speech was plain and unslurred by liquor.
The old man nodded. "Morning, Windy. I hear things got sorta roiled up again down here last night."
"A little bit," Longarm agreed. "Maybe that'll be the last of it, though."
"It better be the last of it!" Belle said. Her voice was sharp with anger. "I don't want Younger's Bend getting a reputation as a place where people go to die!" She stamped into the bedroom, slamming the door behind her.
"Belle gets that way now and again," Yazoo chuckled. He saw the whiskey bottle; there was only a half-inch of liquor left in it. "Just what I need to tide me over until breakfast." He tilted the bottle and drained it.
"You make pretty fair moonshine up at your stillhouse, Yazoo," Longarm observed. "Turn out a lot for sale, I guess, besides what Sam and Belle use around the place here--them and Belle's guests?"
"Three barrels a week," Yazoo boasted. "Got customers coming to get it from as far off as Shawnee and Pawhuska and Talequah and Talihini, and a lot from Fort Smith. Yessir! Belle's got a real good business going here!"
"It's a wonder the feds don't come after you," Longarm said. "At your age, I'd hate to face up to going to the pen."
"Shit!" Yazoo spat. "I been turning out moonshine for a long spell, Windy, and I never spent a day in the pen for making it. Closest I come was one time up in Wyoming Territory. Had me a big still up on Horse Creek between Cheyenne and Laramie, and got hauled in. Didn't do time, though. Judge let me go. I figured he'd drank the evidence, from the way he looked."
Something clicked in Longarm's memory. Now he recalled where he'd seen Yazoo before. He'd been waiting in federal court to give evidence in another case when the old man--younger, then, and looking a lot different--had gone on trial.
To get Yazoo's mind off his story, he said quickly, "I looked for you to be drawn down here to the house last night, what with all the ruckus that was being raised."
"I didn't hear a bit of it," Yazoo said. "Slept the night through like a baby." He looked at the empty bottle that he still held. "I guess while I'm waiting for Sam to fix breakfast, I'll go back up and bring down a few more bottles for the house. Walk along with me, if you want a look at my still."
"No. No, thanks, Yazoo. I done all my running around last night."
"Suit yourself." Yazoo shook his head. "Damn me, every time I talk to you, Windy, it almost comes back to me where I run into you afore. I'll recall, one of these days."
Yazoo ambled out the door and headed for the stillhouse. Longarm felt like sighing with relief. He'd had a nervous moment when he realized that Yazoo's memory of his old arrest might be all that was needed to remind him of the time when his track and Longarm's had crossed before. He was almost glad to see Starr and Floyd come in. Starr went directly to the stove and began clattering pots and pans in preparation for cooking breakfast. Floyd picked up the empty whiskey bottle and stood looking at it for a moment, then he turned to Longarm, scowling.
"Damn you, Windy! You guzzled the last of the moonshine, and I was saving that drink for when I got back from carrying Taylor up the hill!"
Floyd drew back the hand holding the bottle, and was just about to throw it into the corner of the room when Belle came in.
"don't do that, Floyd." Her voice was low, but it had the lash of a whip in it.
Floyd lowered the hand holding the bottle. "Windy got the drink I was saving for myself!" he complained.
<
br /> "No, he didn't," Belle said. "Windy told me he doesn't especially like corn whiskey. He went out to the barn and had a drink from his own bottle of rye."
"You don't say! I guess you followed him and watched, since you're so damn certain?"
"I didn't have to. I heard Yazoo talking in here a few minutes ago. And I don't want you to sass me anymore, Floyd. Just remember who you're talking to from now on."
Starr paid no attention to the exchange between Belle and Floyd. He brought a pan of water to the table and began scrubbing away the bloodstains left by Taylor.
Longarm said, "Yazoo'll be back in a few minutes. He went up to get some more whiskey. You won't have to wait long for your drink, Floyd."
"Thanks for nothing," Floyd snapped.
Belle stamped her foot. "Another thing, Floyd. I want you to stop trying to pick a fight with Windy. He's been holding back, I can tell that, to keep from arguing with you. Now, I want you two to get along together, Floyd. Remember, you're going to need somebody to take Mckee's and Taylor's places if you expect to pull off that job we've been working up."
"Oh, now hold up a minute, Belle! You don't expect me to take Windy in on that! Not after he killed Mckee!"
"It was a fair shootout," Belle said. "And I told you right after it happened that it wasn't any of your affair what kind of grudge there was between Mckee and Windy."
"It sticks in my craw, just the same," Floyd protested. "Anyhow, I thought it was all settled for you and Sam to fill in for Mckee and Taylor."
"We might, and we might not," Belle replied. "I haven't made up my mind yet. But I've seen Windy in action. I know what he can do."
"Now let's stop this kind of talk right here," Longarm said firmly. "I feel just about like Floyd does, but maybe not for the same reasons. Belle, before you start including me in any job you and Floyd or anybody else has cooked up, you better find out first if I want to be cut in."
"I just haven't gotten around to it yet, Windy. But it's a big job, and there'll be good money in it for all of us."
"That's as it may be. But I don't know anything about Floyd or Steed or Bobby. Or, come right down to it, about you and Sam, except for what I've heard here and there. I don't say I won't talk about getting in, but I don't let anybody put me up for anything before I say yes."
"Strikes me you're just a mite too damn particular for us to fool with, Windy," Floyd said.
"Maybe I am, but I'm still walking around, and I aim to stay this way. I won't go into anything blind," Longarm said flatly.
Sam Starr interrupted the discussion by dropping plates with a clatter on the tabletop. "Breakfast's ready," he announced. "Sit down and eat before it gets cold."
"We'll talk about things later," Belle said as she moved toward the table. She might have been addressing either Longarm or Floyd. "Let's get breakfast over so Sam can clean things up. He's got a job to get to right away."
Halfway through the silent, strained meal, Yazoo joined them. He came in with two bottles of whiskey under each arm, and set a bottle at each end of the table before depositing the other two in one of the KC Baking Powder boxes.
Floyd drank corn moonshine instead of coffee throughout the meal. The liquor, on his almost empty stomach, made him sleepy. He finished first and stood up unsteadily. "I'm going to get myself forty winks," he announced to the table in general. "You go ahead and have your talk with Windy, Belle. Then you and me will sit down and settle things, once and for all." When he'd gone, Belle said to Longarm, "We'll have that talk while Sam and Yazoo are up at the grove burying Taylor. And don't worry about Floyd. You can see how he's coming around."
Longarm didn't see, but he wasn't going to tell Belle that he hadn't noticed much of a change in Floyd's attitude. He'd be suspicious if Floyd did welcome him in on whatever illegal project Belle had come up with. In fact, the minute Floyd agreed to add him to the group, it would be a signal that the surly outlaw had decided to accept Longarm and use him in carrying out the job, with the idea that there would be a back-shooting or a fatal accident when things were over, which would keep Longarm from being on hand to claim a share of the loot. Bandits had been known to kill other bandits for no more reason than that, and in Floyd's case there was the extra motive provided by Longarm's killing of Mckee.
All of them had just about finished eating when Floyd left. In a few minutes, Sam Starr stood up and said, "Whenever you're ready, we'll go on up and do our job, Yazoo."
"Guess I'm as ready as I'll ever be." The old man stood up. He picked up one of the bottles from the table and put it under his arm. "I'll just take this along, Sam. Grave-digging gets to be real dry work."
"And don't forget Steed and Bobby," Belle reminded Sam. "I told them you'd bring some breakfast up to them."
"I haven't forgot," Starr replied. "I'll take care of them, Belle. You don't have to worry."
"We've got the place to ourselves until noon," Belle told Longarm after Sam and Yazoo had gone. "Plenty of time for a private talk and a chance to get better acquainted."
"Let's get down to business, then," Longarm said. "You know I'm not looking around for something to do right now. It ain't like I was broke and needed to put a stake together."
"I know that, Windy," Belle broke in. "I saw that poke you're carrying, remember, when you paid your rent yesterday. You must've pulled off a big job. It's funny, though, I haven't heard about any really big hauls lately. Where were you working?"
"Far enough away so the news wouldn't have reached here yet. And in my regular line, there's a lot of things I do that are kept quiet."
That, Longarm thought, was the real truth.
"That money you've got won't last forever, Windy," Belle pointed out. "You'd be better off adding to it while you've got the chance than letting this job of mine slip by you. It's big enough to interest you, I know. What I've got planned-"
"Now hold on a minute, Belle." Longarm didn't want to seem too anxious to learn the details of Belle's scheme. He'd maneuvered her into inviting him in, and right now she'd reached the point where nothing in'the world was going to stop her from telling him all about it. The less interested he appeared to be, the harder she was going to try to get him in, which meant that she'd spill all the details of her plans, once he let her get started talking.
Longarm went on, "I better tell you first off that I'm not much for partnering. When a man works by himself, he's got nobody to split with. And when the job's finished, there's nobody who can point a finger at him and say he did it."
"Oh, I can understand that. I've only had one really good partner myself, and that was my first husband-" Belle stopped and then added hastily, "First except for Cole Younger, that is. Of course, Cole and me hadn't been married long when he got caught, and he's been in the pen ever since."
"I recall Cole had some bad luck," Longarm told her. "But I never was around the places where the Jameses and the Youngers worked."
Belle was still caught up in her sentimental reminiscences. "I don't guess you ever met my second husband, either. He was the one I meant when I said I'd only had one good partner. Jim Reed." She looked at Longarm and sighed. "Except that Jim was darker, you remind me a lot of Jim."
"I've heard a little bit about him," Longarm said truthfully. "Got cut down while he was getting away from a mail-coach job, didn't he?"
"Yes." Belle stood up and began to pace back and forth across the small room. "Poor Jim would still be alive if I'd been able to go with him to take that mail coach. I was carrying our baby, though, our boy, Ed."
She picked up one of the bottles of t. "Ed's in a private school back in Missouri right now, you know. So is my other baby, Pearl. That's the beautiful girl I got from Cole. She's dark, like me. Thank God, she didn't turn out to be blonde and look like a floozie."
Belle resumed her nervous pacing. "They're why I've got to keep busy, Windy. You know, it costs a lot of money to keep both of them in the best schools there are."
"Sure. I can see that, Belle," Longarm re
plied. "And I know you've had bad luck with this job, coming up shorthanded the way you are."
"Now, if Jim Reed was still alive, it wouldn't bother me a bit."
Belle took another drink. "You know, Windy, I guess one reason why I want you to be with us on this job is that you remind me so much of Jim. If your hair was just a little bit longer, and you didn't wear your mustache so big..."
Longarm cut in, "If Jim Reed was going out on a job, would he have been fool enough to partner up with somebody carrying the sort of grudge against him that Floyd's got against me?"
"No. Jim would get rid of Floyd."
"I draw the line at that, Belle. The only time I throw down on a man is if it's him or me."
"I didn't mean that the way you took it. But you don't have to worry about Floyd, Windy, I keep telling you that. He's not calling the shots, I am."
Longarm frowned thoughtfully. "You said it's a big job. I don't know this country real well, but I can't think of a small town around here where you'd find a whole lot of loose money. Are you sure you're not aiming too high? I wouldn't want to get caught up in a squeeze like the James boys did in Northfield."
"Hell, some dirty skunk tipped off the local law in Northfield."
Belle took another swallow from the bottle she was still carrying around as she paced. "That's one thing we don't have to worry about here. Even if somebody did pass on a tip, the local law wouldn't do anything about it."
Longarm studied the smug expression that had crept onto Belle's face. Then he asked, "Are you telling me you've got the marshal or the sheriff paid off, wherever it is your bunch will hit?"
"How do you think I got to be Belle Starr, the Bandit Queen? Listen, Windy, I pay off the law--or enough of it to be safe--in most of the towns just outside this part of the Nation."
"Well, now." Longarm acted as though Belle's boast had impressed him. "That might change my mind about things." Then, as though he still needed more persuasion, he went on, "But I'd still want to know more about it. Outside of Fort Smith, which I hear is a pretty good-sized place, I'd say there's not a bank in any town hereabouts that'd carry enough cash to make a good payoff for five or six men."
