Longarm and the Train Robbers

by Tabor Evans

  She would not let him go the rest of the afternoon. It was only when darkness fell on Cheyenne and his stomach was rumbling that she yielded to his plea for food and something to drink.

  "I'll take you out to dinner," he said. "I doubt that there will be food in the house."

  "You're all the food I need."

  "I'm sorry," he told her, "but my stomach tells me that I need more than lovemaking."

  "Then your stomach lies," she said with amusement.

  "Besides, I can't stay here."

  Martha blinked. "Why not?"

  "Because you're trying to establish yourself in Cheyenne and it won't be easy. The last thing you want to do is to advertise a live-in lover. That will kill your chances with the respectable people of this town."

  "To hell with them."

  "No," Longarm said, climbing out of her bed. "You can't say that. You need their support, Martha. And you deserve their support. You came here to make some atonement for your father, and I'm not going to be a part of spoiling that."

  She laughed softly. "Why, you're a real moralist! Who would have believed this conversation? Longarm, I'm offering you... everything. I want to marry you."

  It was his turn to laugh. "Marry and keep me? Thanks, but no thanks."

  "I didn't mean that the way it sounded. Of course I wouldn't 'keep you.' I heard Mr. Ashmore offer you a job with the Bank of Wyoming. You could accept his offer."

  "He died in the wreck," Longarm said quietly.

  "Oh." Martha cleared her throat. "I'd forgotten. All right then, go to his bank and tell them what Mr. Ashmore offered you. Ask for the job and then we'll be married."

  "Just like that?"

  "Not just like that!" Martha bounced out of bed without a stitch of clothing. She threw her arms around Longarm's neck and hugged him. "Custis, more than anything, I want to be your wife. I want to marry my hero."

  Longarm disengaged himself. "Martha, you're a beautiful young woman and you're going to marry again. And you're going to be more successful than your father. But we're not going to get married."

  "y not?"

  "Because," he said simply, "I don't want to get married. What I want and have to do is find Eli Wheat and the men that derailed that train and caused so many good and innocent people to die--some of them slowly and in great pain."

  Martha stepped back. "All right. So we don't get married until you deliver Mr. Wheat and his friends to the hangman. Then can we marry?"

  "I like my work."

  "Your work will be your death! Sooner or later, someone will ambush or shoot you in the back. Or your horse will spill you over a cliff or something terrible will happen."

  "I don't think so," he said, gentling her fears. "I lead a sort of charmed life."

  "I don't believe that for a moment. Look at the scars you carry on your body! You look like you've been stitched up in five or six places, and I recognize a bullet wound when I see one."

  "I'm like a cat with nine lives," he said with a wink. "And with eight of them gone!"

  Longarm's stomach rumbled in protest. "Martha, let's go out and get something to eat."

  Her shoulders slumped. "Just tell me that you'll come back when you've captured or killed Eli and his gang. That's all I ask."

  "It may take some time and some doing."

  "You'll do it. Promise me, please?"

  "All right," he conceded, "I'll come back."

  "Good! My father was close friends with Edward's father, who founded the Bank of Wyoming. I'll speak to the old gentleman tomorrow and ask him to hold that job opening."

  "Now-"

  "Just in case!" Martha added quickly. "Just in case."

  Longarm dipped his chin in reluctant agreement. Martha reached down and began to play with his flaccid rod, and he decided to wait a few minutes before getting dressed, just in case.

  CHAPTER 4

  The next morning, Longarm paid a visit to the telegraph office to send a message to his boss, U.S. Marshal Billy Vail, back in Denver.

  "All right, Deputy," the telegraph operator said, pencil poised over pad. "Shoot."

  "To Marshal Vail." Longarm paused, gathered his thoughts, and began to dictate. "Prisoner Eli Wheat escaped custody during train derailment near Laramie Summit. Stop. Many passengers killed and injured and mail car robbed. Stop. Appears to be same gang that has derailed other U.P. trains. Stop. Going after Eli Wheat and train wreck gang. Stop. Need one hundred and fifty dollars for outfit and travel expenses. Stop."

  "Don't you want me to add your name?"

  "He'll know who the telegram is from."

  "Terrible thing that happened up there," the operator said, shaking his head. "I knew most of the train crew that died. They were all good men. Didn't deserve something like that to happen to 'em." "Neither did the passengers."

  "Mr. Ashmore left a wife and three small children," the telegraph operator added quietly. "I tell you, there's going to be some sad grievin' in this town for a good long while."

  "I know. All that I can do is to try and bring whoever caused that train wreck to a quick and final justice. Which reminds me, I need to buy a horse."

  "Bob's Livery is the best place to go. He's a good, honest man and takes care of his customers. I guarantee that he'll treat you right."

  "Thanks," Longarm said, before asking for directions. Fifteen minutes later, he was looking at a pen of saddle horses over a split-rail fence.

  "Now that bay gelding with the blaze on his face is one of the better animals," Bob said. "He's an older horse, but steady and sound."

  "What about that dun?"

  "I wouldn't trust his legs. Bought him from a horse trader for next to nothing because I figured he might have some fundamental unsoundness."

  "And the palomino?"

  "Hard-mouthed and stubborn. He's half bronc.

  "What about that tall sorrel with the white star on his forehead?"

  Bob smiled. "You've a keen eye for good horseflesh. Cowboy rode him into town and made a big fuss over the horse, but he wanted cash real bad. Said he had a sister in Omaha that needed his help and he had to have some cash for travel. I paid forty dollars for the animal after watching the cowboy ride for about ten minutes. Seems like a good horse and the cowboy said he was fast and had endurance. He's a little big-headed and Roman-nosed."

  "That doesn't matter to me," Longarm said. "I like his looks and the size. How much do you want?"

  "For you, same as I paid. And for a total of fifty dollars, I'll throw in an old saddle, bridle, and blanket."

  "How about a new set of shoes? The only reason I caught up with Eli Wheat this last time was because his unshod horses went lame."

  "You're right. I shoe my own horses and I'll do the sorrel. For five more dollars, you've got a freshly shod horse and I'll toss in a rope, halter, and set of hobbles. You'd have everything you need to catch Eli and his murdering friends."

  "Fifty-five dollars total."

  "That's right."

  Longarm knew that, if the horse was as sound and sensible an animal as he appeared to be, it was a very fair price. "Saddle him up and let me ride him around."

  "Sure!"

  The sorrel was light-mouthed, quick-reining, and alert. Longarm was no cowboy, but he could recognize a horse that was well trained and eager to please. "I'll take him. I'm expecting a telegram and wired money this afternoon."

  "He'll have a fresh pair of shoes and be ready when you are," the liveryman promised.

  Satisfied that he had bought himself a good horse, Longarm next went to the general store, where he purchased food, a bedroll, supplies, and a heavy, waterproof canvas sack in which to carry everything.

  "I'm also going to need a pair of woolen underwear and a leather coat," he told the proprietor.

  "We can fix you right up," the man said with a somber expression. "And I'll tell you something else, Deputy. I'm not going to take a cent of profit."

  "You're not?"

  "No. I'm selling everything to you a
t cost because I want you to catch and bring those men to justice. The engineer on board that train that died was one of my best friends. So you find those killers and give them no quarter, hear me?"

  "I hear you," Longarm said. "And that brings me to the last thing I need, which is a rifle. I haven't got a lot of money, so if you've got something used but serviceable and that shoots straight, that would be fine."

  "You want a.30-30 carbine?"

  "Maybe something heavier."

  "I've a fine Remington Rolling-block.50 I could offer at a good price."

  "That's an excellent rifle, but I'm in need of something that holds more than one shot."

  "I see. How about a Winchester Model 1873? I've a battered but serviceable fifteen-shot with a twenty-four-inch barrel. It's heavier than the.30-30, being a.44-40 caliber."

  "Let me see it."

  The rifle's stock had been broken and crudely repaired with nails and wire, and then covered with tightly stretched rawhide. The Winchester wasn't anything for looks, but the ugly stock felt solid and Longarm figured that he might need a fifteen-shot weapon with reaching power.

  "How much?"

  "Ten dollars." The man smiled. "That's what I paid for it. Bought it off a Cheyenne, but not before I tested it for accuracy. It shoots straight and the action is smooth."

  "Sold."

  Longarm left the general store and returned to Martha's house. She wasn't home, so he packed his things, put on his new clothes, and headed back into town. After receiving directions, Longarm ended up at the fancy law offices of Noble, Evans, and Black.

  "Excuse me," he said to a clerk wearing a green eyeshade. "I'm looking for Miss Noble."

  "She's in conference with Mr. Evans and Mr. Black. If you could come back later."

  "I don't think so," Longarm said, pushing past the clerk.

  "Hey, you can't go in there!"

  But Longarm was already "in there," pushing open the door to the private office, and surprising Martha and two older men.

  "Custis!"

  "I apologize for this sudden and unannounced interruption," Longarm said, "but I'm about to leave Cheyenne. Martha, I thought I ought to say good-bye."

  Martha's smile died and she jumped to her feet. "You're leaving so soon?"

  "I need to get on the outlaws' trail," Longarm said. "If it snows again, the tracks are lost. Every hour I delay is an hour that it will be tough to make up."

  "Any idea where they might have gone?" one of the well-dressed men asked.

  "No," Longarm admitted. "They seem to have the ability to vanish into thin air. They might even have dispersed in all directions. Today, given the telegraph and so many law enforcement agencies, a really smart gang comes together only when they have a stage or a train to rob."

  "That would make it tough to apprehend them," the other lawyer said.

  "Damned tough," Longarm agreed, not able to take his eyes off Martha, who looked beautiful and very competent in a black pleated skirt and white silk blouse.

  Martha took his arm. "Gentlemen, you must excuse me for a few minutes while I say good-bye to my friend."

  The lawyers did not look pleased, but nodded in agreement. "We'll be waiting, Miss Noble."

  "It'll only be a moment," she replied, leading Longarm out of their office.

  Once they were out on the board sidewalk, Martha slipped her arms around Longarm's waist. Tears made her eyes glisten. "It just occurred to me that I may never see you again."

  "I swear that I'll return."

  Her lower lip trembled. "But not to take that job or to get married."

  "I can't say what I'll do for the future, Martha. All I know for sure is that I've already got a big job to do."

  "You don't know anything about this bunch and you don't even know how many there are."

  "I'll know more when I pick up their trail," he said. "A lot more."

  Martha laid her head against his chest. "I'm scared for you, Custis. What if you get killed?"

  "Then your life goes on just as it did before we met two days ago."

  "It seems like we've known each other for years. I can't imagine not having known you."

  Longarm hugged her tightly. "Martha, I have to go now. Stretching out a good-bye never does any good."

  She released him and stepped back. "I've told Mr. Evans and Mr. Black that they can either buy me out of their partnership or bring me into the firm that my father founded as an equal partner. It seems that they're having a very difficult time with that decision, but I'm sure that they will make the right choice. You see, they both have suffered investment losses and don't have much cash on hand."

  "I wish you a good start on your new life," Longarm said before kissing her and then turning on his heel and marching on down the boardwalk.

  "I'll be waiting for you!" she called.

  When Longarm reached the telegraph office, there was a telegram from his boss that read: GET THE BASTARDS DEAD OR ALIVE. Billy had also wired a check for two hundred dollars, which told Longarm better than words that he was supposed to stay out on the trail no matter how long it took to bring Eli Wheat and the train-robbing gang to justice.

  "Your boss sounds pretty upset," the telegraph operator said. "I never got a telegraph like that before."

  "Marshal Vail means business, all right," Longarm agreed.

  A few minutes later he collected the cash at the bank, and then went to collect his horse. It was nearly noon before Longarm was ready to ride.

  "I hope you shoot them," Bob said as Longarm mounted the sorrel. "I hope you kill every last one."

  "My job is to take them alive, if possible, and bring them to trial."

  "If you do that," the liveryman said, "I'll come down to Denver to watch them dance on the gallows."

  "You'd be welcome," Longarm said as he reined his horse west and put it into a gallop toward the nearby Laramie Mountains.

  It was late afternoon and the snow was almost gone when Longarm rode the tough sorrel gelding up to the site of the train wreck. Union Pacific crews were everywhere cleaning up debris and searching for more bodies. Jim Allen saw Longarm, and came over to greet him.

  "More bodies?" Longarm asked.

  "Two. I think we have them all now. It's a wonder that everyone wasn't killed."

  "Yeah." Longarm glanced up the line toward the summit. "Did you see any sign of an explosion?"

  "I haven't had time to look. All my attention has been down the side of this mountain. That big locomotive will rest in that gulch forever."

  "Let's take a look up the track and see if we can find out why it derailed," Longarm said, reining up-slope.

  He rode about two hundred yards back up the track, and dismounted to stare at the great pit where dynamite had exploded to twist the tracks like hairpins.

  "Holy cow!" Allen said, catching up. "They must have used a barrel of dynamite."

  "nat's right," Longarm said. "They weren't scrimping, that's for sure. And they brought a wagon along to carry off whatever they could find, including the safe in the mail car in case they couldn't blast it open."

  "At least it should be easy tracking them," the railroad supervisor offered hopefully.

  Longarm handed the sorrel's reins to Allen and began to study the signs. He saw boot marks and cigarette butts and plenty of horse tracks just up-slope and behind a pile of rocks.

  "They didn't need to hide, but they must have been trying to get out of the weather as they waited for the train."

  "I wish they'd have frozen solid," Allen spat out.

  Longarm spent another fifteen minutes studying signs. There wasn't a lot to see because the snow had covered the ground, then melted, leaving everything indistinct. He wasn't even sure how many men had been involved.

  "You find anything real important?" Allen asked.

  "Afraid not."

  "Too bad. Looks like they had a wagon that should be plenty easy to follow."

  Longarm's eyes followed the wagon tracks. He was very sure that he woul
d find the wagon abandoned somewhere up in the mountains. Furthermore, he was expecting that the tracks of the horsemen he followed would splinter into small groups.

  "I've got about an hour of daylight left is all," Longarm said. "Best make use of it."

  "Good luck, Deputy. I wish there was something that I could do to help you. There must be more lawmen coming."

  "I prefer to work alone," Longarm said. "But you can bet that railroad detectives, Pinkerton agents, and other federal marshals are on their way. Thing of it is, I was on that train and it was my prisoner that escaped."

  "Yeah," Allen said. "And it was my men and passengers that died."

  Longarm tugged his Stetson low over his eyes and rode on, following the wagon and its tracks. The gang of train robbers was smart enough to travel single file in front of the wagon and its team of horses so that it was impossible to read how many there were. However, Longarm thought that he was following at least a half dozen--and perhaps many more. If there was any good news at all, it was that so many men would attract attention and be remembered by anyone who saw them--anyone, that is, who lived to report a sighting.

  CHAPTER 5

  As sundown fired the western sky, Longarm crested the backbone of the Laramie Mountains and began to search for a campsite. There was a cold wind sweeping through the pines, and Longarm sought a heavy stand of timber to cut the wind. At least, he thought, there was no sign of another storm on the horizon. If there had been, Longarm would have pushed on by starlight, following the tracks all night if possible.

  To Longarm's surprise, the outlaws' trail led to an old, abandoned cabin where the train robbers had spent their first night. In addition to the cabin, there was a sturdy pole corral. Before penning his weary sorrel, Longarm once again searched for any bit of knowledge that would serve him in the future. The buckboard used by the gang had been left behind and it held no clues.

  All that Longarm discovered after an inspection of the corral was a horse's hoofprint revealing a broken right shoe. That, and a cigarette butt that was wrapped in an unusual pale yellow paper that Longarm had not seen before. Otherwise, the corral, the cabin, and the surrounding yard offered not a shred of evidence that would help to identify the train robbers.