Longarm and the Missing Husband

by Tabor Evans

  “I can’t thank you enough, Marshal. Thank you ever so much,” she gushed.

  She followed Longarm out then said, “How will we travel?”

  “Travel where?” he asked, both of them standing in front of Henry’s desk, Henry being Billy Vail’s chief clerk.

  “Why, to Wyoming Territory, of course,” she said.

  “Little missy,” Longarm said, “we ain’t going to Wyoming. I are. Uh, I am, that is. You are stayin’ right here ’til I get back.”

  “Oh, but I can’t stay here. For one thing, I don’t have money to pay for a hotel. It took everything I had to get to Denver in the first place. So I couldn’t stay here even if I wanted to.”

  “Sure you can,” he said. “I’ll park you in my room. It ain’t so much, but my landlady will be happy t’ have another female on the premises for a change. We’ll talk to her. See if we can work out something toward you eating at her table, too, though it ain’t usually board, just room.” He smiled. “Don’t you worry. We’ll work it out. Now you can set over there for a few minutes an’ wait while Henry here comes up with my travel vouchers.”

  Beth did not look especially happy about the arrangement, but she dutifully went over to the side of the room and perched on one of the chairs against the wall there while Longarm conducted his business with Henry.

  Chapter 5

  Beth went with him to his rooming house, where she was welcomed with open arms. Welcomed to stay in his room while he was away, too. Longarm left her there and picked up his carpetbag, already packed and ready as it was at all times.

  “I’ve arranged for you to take your meals here, too,” Longarm told her. “With any kind o’ luck, I won’t be gone all that long anyway. I’ll see what I can learn about your husband an’ hopefully find him safe an’ sound. Meantime, you’ll be fine here.”

  “Thank you, Marshal.” She smiled and squeezed his hand. Even that small, innocent contact made his dick hard. There was something powerfully attractive about Bethlehem Bacon, something he could not put a name to but could certainly feel.

  Longarm thought about taking his saddle and rifle along but settled for just the bag. The rest of his gear remained in his room with Beth.

  When he left for the train station, he had an impulse to lean down and kiss her but he refrained from doing it. Even so, he was a good five blocks away in a hansom cab before his hard-on completely subsided and he could put his mind to business.

  “Which station will you be wanting, sir?” the hack driver called down to him.

  “Wynkoop,” Longarm responded. The depot at Wazee and Wynkoop was the oldest in town and the closest to the rooming house. Longarm smiled a little to himself. The driver was undoubtedly hoping he would want the station where the Denver to Cheyenne line intersected with the Kansas Pacific line. That newer depot was farther north and would have resulted in a larger fare. Longarm was traveling on the taxpayers’ dollars, but that did not mean he could be wasteful.

  He settled back in the seat of the hack and wondered just how in the hell he was supposed to find Hank Bacon when he got to the White River Indian Reservation.

  He tugged his hat low over his eyes and attempted to doze on the drive to the railway station. After all, he had gotten practically no sleep the night before.

  Not that he regretted the evening. It had not been time wasted. Far from it.

  What was it about Beth Bacon, though, that made her so damned desirable?

  He had had Angela for hours on end last night, had her in nearly every way a man could think of, yet now it was Beth on whom his thoughts lay. It was a puzzlement.

  Chapter 6

  Longarm spent the trip up to Cheyenne in the smoking car playing cards with some friendly travelers, one a priest whose luck—if it was luck—was phenomenal. The man won and won and won some more. If he had stayed in the game much longer, Longarm figured he would have gone broke before they reached Fort Collins. Fortunately the priest took his winnings, and his Bible, and left the game after an hour or so. After that Longarm was able to get back at least a little of what he had lost to the man with the turned-around collar.

  They reached Cheyenne in the middle of the night. A conductor came through warning everyone, and waking them, ten minutes or so out.

  “If you leave anything behind, make sure it’s something valuable. I’ll give it to my old lady for an anniversary present,” the man said. Longarm was not sure if he meant that or not. Not that Longarm had so very much baggage to keep track of. There was just his carpetbag and he had that with him in the smoking car.

  When the train lurched to a clattering, clanking halt at the Cheyenne station, Longarm got up from the table where he had been playing and thanked the other gents for the pleasure of the game.

  “Next time let us win a little, Long,” a drummer dealing in yard goods said.

  Longarm grinned. “Next time bring more money with you, Horace.”

  Longarm retrieved his carpetbag from the overhead rack where he had left it and followed the crowd out of the car onto the platform at Cheyenne. The night air felt chilly after the smoky confinement of the railroad coach. He turned his collar up and headed for the Union Pacific depot nearby.

  When he got there . . .

  “What the hell are you doing here, dammit? I thought I left you safe an’ sound back in Denver,” he bawled.

  Bethlehem Bacon smiled at him as if he had just paid her a friendly compliment. “It is nice to see you, too, Marshal.”

  “But . . .”

  “I know. You were trying to protect me. But I couldn’t abide staying there, always waiting, never knowing what was happening up here. So”—she spread her hands and smiled so very sweetly again—“so here I am.”

  “How? I mean . . . I thought you said you were broke. How’d you get a ticket?”

  “That was simple enough,” the lady said. “I told them I was traveling with you. They charged my fare to the government or somebody. Anyway here I am.”

  “Yes, here you are,” Longarm said. “The question now is, what the hell am I gonna do with you here in Cheyenne? I don’t have anyplace up here where I can dump you while I try an’ find your husband.”

  “Exactly,” Beth said. “So I shall go with you.” She smiled just about the sweetest, prettiest smile he had ever seen. “Now,” she said as if that silliness were all settled, “let’s go find out when the next westbound train will be coming through.”

  Chapter 7

  “We should get off at Rawlins,” Beth told him after they were established in one of the passenger coaches—not a smoking car—and on their way. Longarm simply had not known what else to do with the sneaky female and so brought her along with him. “But only until I can figure out where t’ put you for a spell,” he had agreed.

  “An’ why Rawlins ’stead of Rock Springs? That’d be closer to where you said he disappeared,” he told Beth now after her pronouncement.

  “Because Rawlins is where Hank’s employers have an office. You’ll want to speak with them before you go looking for him,” she said, sounding very sure of herself.

  “Why didn’t you tell me that before?” he said.

  “You didn’t ask. Oh, here comes the butcher boy. Buy me a doughnut, will you?”

  Longarm was well aware that Beth had just changed the subject. But he really did not know what to do with her. He bought her the doughnut. And one for himself although he would rather have had a cigar and a shot of rye.

  The Union Pacific westbound reached Rawlins late in the morning. With a sigh, Longarm and Beth Bacon left the train there.

  “You don’t have any luggage with you?” he asked, retrieving his much-traveled carpetbag from the overhead rack.

  “Just this handbag,” she said. For a handbag it was large but it was no suitcase. He wondered just how much she could be carrying in there.

  Longarm hel
ped Beth down onto the platform and led the way to the Elkhorn Hotel. He had stayed there before and knew it was not fancy, but it was clean and accommodating, with a café next door where you could get exceptional rhubarb pie.

  “Hello, Marshal. Two rooms for you?” the clerk said and with a rather oily smile added, “Adjoining?”

  Longarm looked down at Beth, who was acting innocent as a child. She had no money to pay for a room. He knew that. He also knew that Henry would not approve payment for two rooms for one deputy. “One room,” he said.

  The clerk’s eyebrows rose but the man said nothing, just turned the register book around for Longarm to sign.

  Beth said nothing either. If anything, she acted like it was the most normal thing in the world for her to share a room with a man who was not her husband.

  Longarm accepted the room key and led the way upstairs to room number four. Beth meekly followed him inside and perched on the side of the bed while Longarm deposited his carpetbag inside the mahogany wardrobe.

  “We can have a cot brought in,” Beth said firmly. “I will sleep there.”

  “Got this all figured out, do you?”

  “All? No. But enough for the time being.”

  “What about meals? D’you expect the government t’ pay for those for you?”

  “The government does not have to know.” She giggled. “You will just run into very expensive dining. Anyway, most of the time we will be beyond restaurants and such civilization. You will buy trail foods at government expense. I support the government by way of taxes. It seems only fair that the government support me for a few days in return.”

  “Like I said before, you got this all figured out.” He sighed. Longarm felt like he was finding himself sighing quite a bit of late. He poured a little water into the basin and washed his hands and face then said, “All right, are you ready t’ go see your husband’s bosses?”

  “Can we eat first?” Beth asked. “I’m hungry.”

  Longarm sighed again.

  Chapter 8

  Longarm could say one thing for the girl. She had an appetite. He didn’t think he had ever seen anyone so small put away so much food. She ate like there was no tomorrow.

  But then, come to think of it, perhaps she really felt that tomorrow was in doubt.

  She was far from home with no money, depending on a stranger to help her get by, help that as far as she knew could be withdrawn at any moment.

  So perhaps it was no surprise that Bethlehem Bacon was packing away as much as she could as fast as she could manage.

  Longarm let her fill herself while he sat back and had a light meal, then drank coffee until Beth ran out of room.

  “Satisfied?” he asked. And pretended not to notice that she filched a pair of yeast rolls and hid them in a pocket of her dress.

  “Yes, I am, thank you.”

  “Can we go see Hank’s boss now?” Longarm said.

  “Of course. That’s why we are here, after all.” Acting very prim and proper, Beth led the way to a suite of second-floor offices of the Berriman and Jones Land and Investments Co. Inc.

  Interesting title, Longarm thought. It would cover almost anything Messrs. Berriman and Jones wanted to undertake.

  “Have you been here before?” Longarm asked on their way up the stairs.

  Beth shook her head. “No, but Hank told me about it. To tell you the truth, he wasn’t sure about the partners, but they offered him a very generous salary.”

  Longarm raised an eyebrow at that information.

  “I have no idea what happened to his pay,” Beth said, “or if he even got any. He never sent anything back home. He wrote to me, of course, but he never sent any money. I kind of think he didn’t get any, but I don’t know that for sure.”

  “We’ll ask his bosses about that. If they are holding his pay for some reason, maybe they will hand it over to you.”

  “It would be nice to have something other than my nightshirt and some tooth powder in my handbag,” she said.

  Longarm opened the door for Beth to enter the Berriman and Jones office. There was no receptionist in the small inner office. A door leading into a larger office in the back stood open. A man in sleeve garters and an eyeshade was seated at a rolltop desk there. He looked up when Longarm and Beth came in.

  Rising, the man came into the reception area. He was tall and slender, bald but with wildly bushy eyebrows and a very thin, graying mustache. “May I help you?”

  “Are you one o’ the partners?” Longarm asked before Beth could launch into her tale of woe.

  “I am, sir. I am Honus Berriman. And you are . . .”

  “I am Mrs. Bethlehem Bacon, and I want to know where my husband is,” Beth blurted out in a rush.

  “Ah, yes. Mrs. Bacon. We received your telegrams, of course. I only wish I knew what to tell you,” Berriman said. “Would you care to come in and sit while we talk?” The man smiled and spread his hands palms upward. “Not that there is so very much to talk about. You probably know everything that we do. We lost touch with your husband several weeks ago. Haven’t heard a word since.”

  Berriman ushered them into the main office, which was larger than the reception area and held two desks, a bookcase, and two file cabinets. “Please. Sit down, Mrs. Bacon.” He fetched the chair from the other desk for Beth. He ignored Longarm and did not offer to find him a chair.

  “Is there anything I can do for you?” Berriman asked, not sounding like he particularly meant it.

  Chapter 9

  “Perhaps you know that the government grants land holdings on every other section along a railroad right of way. Our purpose is more the land than the railroad, although that would be nice to have, too. In order to get the land, though, we have to lay track.

  “There is already another company planning to build a line north running east of the Big Horns. Our idea is to build west of that mountain range. The line would be shorter by a good many miles, and that would lessen the cost of construction,” Berriman told them.

  “Wouldn’t that also reduce the amount of land you can get from the government?” Longarm asked.

  Berriman glanced up at him as if annoyed. Longarm had not told the man what he did for a living, and Berriman had expressed no curiosity about who Longarm was or why he should be accompanying Beth Bacon. Probably he assumed Longarm was Beth’s brother or some other close relative and was acting as her chaperone.

  “We have done some calculating, of course. The land grant would be more than adequate, and our construction expenses would be greatly reduced,” Berriman said. “Now, Mrs. Bacon,” he said, turning his attention entirely back to Beth, “I wish I could help you, but like we told you in those telegrams, we really do not know anything.

  “Your husband outfitted in Cheyenne and took a train west to Rock Springs. After that we know nothing of him or his whereabouts.” Berriman said.

  Beth took a deep breath and straightened in her chair. “What about Hank’s pay?” she bluntly asked. The girl had sand, Longarm conceded. Maybe, he thought, smiling to himself, it was all that lunch she managed to pack away before they came to the office.

  “Pardon?” Berriman said.

  “I said what about the salary you promised Hank?” Beth persisted.

  “We paid it to him, of course,” Berriman said.

  “You did not,” Beth declared firmly. “Hank would have sent some of his pay home if he received any. It is obvious that you didn’t pay him at all. And now he is missing. Have you done something to my husband so you won’t have to pay him what you owe?”

  “Madam! How can you say such a thing? An accusation . . . unfounded . . .” Berriman sputtered with anger. Tiny droplets of spittle flew off his lip, and his face, except for the tip of his nose, became red. His nose was dead white. “I will not hear . . . cannot listen . . . really.”

  Berriman dragged
a kerchief from his pocket and mopped his forehead. Then he pulled his shoulders back. “I shall have to ask you to leave,” he snapped and turned his chair so that his back was to Beth and Longarm.

  Beth seemed inclined to stay and argue but Longarm tapped her on the shoulder and motioned for her to leave. If Honus Berriman was that offended—or pretended to be—there probably was no point in arguing with him.

  “Come on,” Longarm said when they were outside the Berriman and Jones offices and on their way back downstairs. “We’ll go get us some coffee an’ think this through.”

  Rye whiskey and a good cigar would have been even better, but under the circumstances, coffee would have to do.

  Chapter 10

  “’Bout the only thing there is t’ do,” Longarm said, “will be t’ go to Rock Springs an’ see can we run Hank down from there.”

  “That was my conclusion, too,” Beth said over her untouched cup of coffee. Damn, Longarm thought, but she was pretty. Somehow all the more appealing by being in trouble and needing his help.

  Beneath the table he got a raging hard-on just from looking at that lovely face. It was a good thing, he thought, that the table was not glass. He would not want her to see that reaction.

  “It’s a little late in the day now t’ be heading west again. We’ll get us a good night’s sleep an’ head out again come morning,” he said.

  In truth, they probably could have caught one of the UP’s westbound passenger trains, or if not that, with his credentials, Longarm could have hitched a ride in the caboose of a freight train. The problem with either of those was that Beth looked dead tired now. He guessed she had not slept in days, probably not since she concluded that her husband was missing.

  “We’ll just relax the rest o’ the afternoon,” he said, “have a nice meal, an’ then turn in early. Why don’t you take a nap before dinner, ma’am? I’ll come wake you when it’s time to eat.”