by Tabor Evans
"Yes."
"How many?" Cotton exclaimed, almost falling out of his desk chair.
"I couldn't exactly say." Longarm frowned. "Somewhere between six and a dozen would be my guess."
"I'd have noticed them if they came here."
"They came in one and two at a time to avoid your notice," Longarm explained, saying what should have been obvious. "And for all I know, they might already have left the same way."
Cotton sighed with audible relief. "I sure hope so."
"I don't," Longarm said. "I hope they're here to the last man so that I can track them down."
"How do you propose to do that?"
"I'll just keep looking. And I know you will too."
"But I don't even know what to look for!" Cotton raised his hands, then let them fall helplessly to his sides. "You've got to give me something to work with."
"Look closely at every stranger," Longarm said. "See if their horses are wearing local brands or not. Ask them what ranches they are working. Find out if they're known by people hereabouts or are judged by the townspeople to be newcomers. And try to see if they've got any money."
"Cowboys coming into Laramie always have money to spend."
"Yeah, I'm sure that they do," Longarm said, "but these boys will have quite a lot of money."
"How much did they get?"
"All the U.P. would say was that there was several thousand dollars cash in their mail car safe. There may also have been other valuables and documents. Sheriff, my advice is that, if anyone tries to cash in jewelry, stocks, or such, let me know."
"I sure will!" The sheriff licked his lips and wrung his hands. "You know how poor the pay is for a lawman--especially on the local level."
"No one forced you to take the job.
"No one else wanted the job for fifty dollars a month!" Cotton looked away for a moment, beat the anger out of his voice, and said, "What's the reward money like on these train robbers, and particularly this Eli Wheat fella?"
"It's not been posted yet, but I imagine there is already at least a hundred dollar reward posted on Eli."
"Well, I'll sure be on the lookout for them," the sheriff said brightly. "And we should keep in close touch."
"I'll stop by at least once a day," Longarm said, though he knew that this sheriff would be pumping him for information and not gather a shred of his own. "I'm staying at the Outpost Hotel."
"Nice place! Best in town. I eat in their dining room on every payday." The sheriff dredged up a sad and slightly hopeful smile. "That's only once a month, but to tell you the truth, I'd give anything to eat there more often."
Longarm ignored the thinly veiled hint at a free meal and headed out the door. "I'm sure they like having you just as often as possible, Sheriff Cotton."
He checked into the Outpost Hotel, which mostly catered to the big game hunters that came to the West to kill trophy-sized buffalo, elk, moose, and grizzly bear. The Outpost Hotel was the finest establishment in Laramie, and beyond the means of a federal officer, but Longarm was dirty and tired, had spent too much time on the trail, and was in no mood to save the government money. Besides, the Outpost would send his expense vouchers into Marshal Vail's office, allowing Longarm to hang onto his travel expense money in case of an emergency. That was why he stayed there whenever he was passing through town.
"Hello, Deputy Long," the tall, elegant proprietor said with genuine warmth. "Welcome back!"
"Thank you, Earl. I just wish that the circumstances weren't so grim."
Earl pushed the register book at Longarm. "Forgive me for saying so, but you look very tired. I suppose that you've been working night and day on that train derailment and robbery."
"Not nights," Longarm admitted. "But I was on that train when it went down the mountainside. It was a miracle that any of us survived because it was very bad."
"I heard the locomotive rolled for half a mile."
"Not quite, but it's there forever. Fortunately, most of the coaches were light enough that they broke up on the mountainside instead of rolling all the way to the bottom of the gulch. Ours caught on some rocks or I wouldn't be here today."
"I can't imagine anything like that," Earl said. "It must have been a nightmare."
"It was. There were no dead children, thank God. But there were some ladies that died."
Earl's voice shook with passion. "I hope you find the... murderers who committed that terrible act."
"I'll find them," Longarm vowed. "In fact, I think they might even be in Laramie right now."
"No!" Earl whispered, leaning forward with an expression of pure amazement.
"I mean it. Earl, I've been a regular customer for three or four years, haven't I?"
"Oh, yes, sir!"
"Well, I want you to keep a sharp eye out for rough men with fast money."
"This isn't the kind of a place such men would frequent, Deputy Long."
"We can't be too sure of that. Sometimes when a man gets a lot of fast money, they step out of their normal haunts and try to show a little class."
"I've seen that happen," Earl admitted. "Usually they've just gotten lucky at cards. They rarely stay for more than one night as our guest and they never return."
"That would be the kind of men I'm looking for. There is one other small thing."
Earl leaned forward. "And that is?"
"I found this cigarette butt in a corral up on the mountain. I can't say for sure, but I'm confident that it was smoked by one of the train robbers."
Longarm showed Earl the unusual cigarette paper. "Have you ever seen anything like it before?"
Earl did not deign to touch the cigarette butt, but his eyebrows jerked upward and when he glanced up at Longarm, his face was animated with excitement. "That's a British cigarette. It's called Royal Crown. It's rather expensive, and the tobacco is said to be of the highest quality. You won't find a working cowboy buying those cigarettes."
"Where can they be bought?"
"At certain tobacco shops. They would be sold at a tobacco shop in Cheyenne, and there are two tobacconists who sell them in Denver."
"I see." Longarm studied the butt. "Look, Earl, if you see anyone smoking these things, I want to know about it right away."
"We always have a few guests here who smoke Royal Crown cigarettes. But I'd not want them to be... accosted."
"I promise I'll be discreet. They'll likely never even realize I was investigating their whereabouts on the night that train was wrecked."
Longarm leaned forward across the desk. "Earl, you know that I'm not a wealthy man but that I am generous."
"You have always been very generous to us. You are one of my favorite guests. I mean that in all honesty."
Longarm knew that this was going to cost him thirty or forty dollars, but if the broken horseshoe proved to be a dead-end trail, this was his only hope and it was no time to be pinching pennies.
"I'll continue to be generous," Longarm said, patting Earl's shoulder. "Now, if I could have a room and a hot bath?"
"At once. At once!"
Longarm dined in the hotel that night and he ate very, very well. Buffalo steak, sourdough bread, fresh trout sauteed in mushrooms, asparagus, and a peach cobbler with cool, sweet cream. Longarm even allowed himself to finish off the meal with a good cigar and two glasses of French brandy.
"I haven't eaten so well," he confessed to the waiter, "since I was here last. Compliments to Chef Pierre."
"He knows it is you, Mr. Long, and so he made everything extra special."
"He did indeed."
The waiter beamed, and Longarm settled back with contentment. He'd been shaved, and was wearing a fresh change of clothes and underwear. He almost felt civilized, and was in no hurry to leave the warm and pleasant surroundings where he had spent many a happy evening.
"Hello!" the woman purred, leaning over the table so that the upper portions of her large breasts dangled like overripe melons. "My dear, dear deputy. I didn't expect you to be back so soon
!"
"Well, Milly," he replied, "neither did I. But there was this train wreck on the mountain just to the east of us, and ever since my life has sort of gone to hell."
"You look pretty happy right now." Milly slid into the chair and laid a familiar hand on Longarm 's muscular thigh. "I think that I can make you look even happier with almost no effort at all."
"Milly, you vixen!"
"Buy me a drink?"
"Sure."
Longarm ordered them both brandy, and then he told Milly about the train wreck, Eli Wheat's escape, and the manhunt.
"And you think they are hidin in Laramie?"
"At least some of them, but probably not all."
"If they have money, they might be coming my way," she said. "Tell me how I would know they are the ones you want."
Longarm told her the same things that he had told Sheriff Cotton and Earl. "You need to keep a sharp eye out for that cigarette paper and for the money."
"I always watch for money, you know that."
"Yeah, I know. That's why I've always wondered why you waste time with a poor federal lawman."
Milly's hand slipped higher until it rested over Longarm's flaccid manhood. "You know why I don't think spending time with you is wasted. Or do I have to remind you right now?"
"Stop it." He laughed, feeling himself start to swell. "I'm not up to that tonight and you need to be circulating. The men I seek might well be just passing through. I can't catch them if I'm making love with you."
"What a shame." Milly sighed. "Well, then I had better get to work. There are guests here tonight who have both time and money."
"Look for those Royal Crown cigarettes and let me know what you find."
"I will," Milly promised. "But I can't imagine some rich Englishman riding with a gang of train robbers."
"No," Longarm conceded, "that does not sound very likely, but one never knows. I've seen people I thought to be rich as kings turn out to be thieves. We all put on a little show--even you, Milly."
"Show?" She laughed and brazenly cupped her breasts. "They're not show, Deputy. You of all people know that they're for real--or do you need to be shown all over again right now?"
"Stop it, Milly!" he said in mock anger because he knew that she was simply trying to tease and embarrass him. Milly was actually a very educated and well-read woman, and that was why she of all the women was the only one allowed in the Outpost Hotel to mingle with the rich Eastern guests.
"Bye, honey," Milly said, "I just saw another gold mine come waddling in the door."
"Sure," he said.
Milly, hips swaying provocatively as she crossed the dining room, turned every man's head in the place, even those with wives and girlfriends. Longarm watched with admiration as Milly targeted an older, corpulent man who had all the appearance of wealth.
Longarm shook his head with wonder. Milly had once told him that she had a bank account that was large enough to buy a small cattle ranch or a ten-room whorehouse decked out like a doll cottage. And now, watching Milly ingratiate herself with the rich old man, and seeing the way his nose began to twitch with all the excitement of a bird dog, Longarm was a believer.
CHAPTER 7
Longarm went to bed that night thinking that he had plenty of baited hooks in the water and wondering which one would land the first fish. It felt wonderful to drop off to sleep in a feather bed with clean sheets and not have to worry about getting rained on in the night or waking up with a stiff back.
He was sleeping like the dead when he was suddenly jarred awake by a loud banging at his door. Longarm reached for his holstered Colt hanging from the headboard.
"Who is it?"
"It's me!"
Longarm relaxed. "Aw, Milly, go away! I'm still asleep."
"Too asleep to talk about an Englishman who smokes Royal Crown cigarettes and has a lot of money to spend on pretty women? Well, if you can find me, we can talk about him sometime. Night, night!"
Longarm blinked rapidly in the darkness. "Wait a minute!" he called, bounding out of the bed and staggering to the door. When he finally got it unlocked, Milly was already descending the stairs to the lobby.
"Milly, dammit, come on back here!"
She turned and looked up at him with a loose smile of amusement. He could see that she was a little tipsy and her hair and lipstick were mussed. Milly had been working and was not in the mood for insults.
"Milly, I'm sorry," Longarm said. "It's just that I've got a lot of sleep to catch up on and I was... I was dreaming of you."
"Aw, bullshit! Come on, Longarm, I'll bet you can do better than that!"
Longarm knuckled his eyes. "What time is it?"
Milly shrugged. "Who cares? I guess it will be daylight pretty soon, but I'll manage to be asleep by then and thankfully avoid it."
Longarm yawned. "Would you come on back and talk to me? Otherwise, I'd have to hunt you down and wake you up in a few hours."
"And risk getting shot? That wouldn't be a very smart thing to do, honey."
"Come on," Longarm said, "this is a respectable place. I can't stand out here begging in my almost natural state."
"Say please."
"Please."
"Say that you'll reward me handsomely."
Longarm yawned. "I'll reward you handsomely."
"And scratch my back and kiss me to sleep and-"
"Milly!"
"Oh, all right. I'll settle for the handsome reward," she said, coming back up the stairs and giving Longarm a kiss before she took his hand and led him back into his room.
Milly wasted no time talking, but quickly undressed and climbed into bed with Longarm. She slipped her hand down his flat belly and tickled his privates.
"Come on, Milly!" Longarm said with another yawn. "Don't distract me."
"I want to distract you," she said, rolling over to nibble on his earlobe.
"Business before pleasure. Who smokes the Royal Crown cigarettes?"
"Like most men," Milly said peevishly, "your mind is only on one thing. But in your case it's outlaws. Every other man I go to bed with is obsessed with my body."
"Milly," Longarm said, gently pushing her back. "You know how much I enjoy being with you. You're a beautiful and passionate woman."
"Don't stop. Tell me more."
"Dear goddess of love, I need to know about this Englishman who is throwing money around and smoking Royal Crown cigarettes. And I need to know right now because a lot of fine, innocent people were killed and injured on that train."
"All right," Milly said wearily. "I can feel this big scab on your skull and I suspect that you were one of the injured."
"I was," Longarm said, "and I'm lucky to be alive. Now tell me about the man who smokes Royal Crowns."
"I didn't sleep with him tonight. He wanted me to, but I decided to find you first. So you cost me money."
"I'll make it up somehow."
"You dam sure better," Milly said, kissing his cheek. "The man who smokes those tinny yellow cigarettes is an associate of the one that you saw me greet when I left your table this evening."
"An associate of that fat old man?"
"Yes. The old man was English and rich. He was also very randy for someone his age. When we were doing it, I thought he was going to burst a... well, never mind. Later, we went down for some drinks and I met the young one."
"The man who smokes Royal Crown cigarettes?"
"Yes. He is the old man's nephew and seems to do little more than buy and sell cattle and horses. He talked a lot about traveling on the railroad between Omaha and Sacramento doing business. I gather he also has a stable of thoroughbreds in Reno, Nevada."
"Interesting," Longarm said, "but I doubt that he's a part of that train-robbing gang."
"Why?"
"The man I seek is probably not wealthy. Perhaps comfortable and able to afford a few luxuries like premium cigarettes, but not wealthy."
"But you don't know that."
"That's true." Longarm pulled
Milly close. "What is this man's name?"
"Blake Huntington." Milly giggled. "Isn't that a high-sounding hoot? The old rich man I entertained is named Clarence Huntington."
"And where is Blake staying?"
"About four doors down the hall in Room 207," Milly said.
"Are you going to meet him anyplace tomorrow?"
"He invited me to lunch at noon."
"I hope that you accepted."
"I did," Milly replied, starting to sound impatient. "And I can guess where you will be at that hour--turning his room upside down looking for clues."
"That's exactly right. But I won't leave anything that would give away the fact I made a thorough search. I'll be in and out in less than fifteen minutes."
Milly winked. "Don't spend a lot of time. From the way he was looking at me tonight, I expect that we will have a very quick meal and then he'll rush me upstairs in order to get much better acquainted."
"Describe the man."
"Blake is about six feet three, slender, darkly handsome, and he speaks with a slight British accent. He sounds very distinguished. He's well mannered and well dressed. He's a real gentleman, Longarm."
"I'm sure." Longarm curbed his annoyance. "If Blake is such a prize, why don't you try to snag him into marriage?"
"I might just do that except..." Milly's voice trailed off and she looked away.
"Except what?"
"I don't know. A professional lady develops a sixth sense about men. She can generally cut through the pretense and look into a man's heart to see if he is honest and kind or unkind."
"And this man is...?"
"Blake Huntington is very unkind," Milly said without hesitation. "There is something very hard and scary about him. And the more Blake tries to cover that something up, the stronger I sense him as being dangerous. That's why I thought you need to investigate this man, because something about him just does not ring true."
"then don't let him get you alone," Longarm warned.
"Oh, I don't actually think he'd be foolish enough to hurt me. I mean, he must know that it would discredit him with his rich old uncle. And I'll tell you something, Blake is after his uncle's money. He fawns all over that dottering old Englishman. It's really rather sickening."
"This whole thing does not make sense," Longarm said.
