Longarm on the Fever Coast (17 page)

Gilbert enjoyed a drag of smoke, let it out, and went on. "They say an indefinite number of riders stayed off to the south in a lot with the herd after dark, whilst Baldwin went into the meat packer's office to settle on a price. His gang just lit out when Baldwin never came back. He never came back because an elderly gent Baldwin took for a sissy bookkeeper threw down on him with a Walker Colt and sent an office boy to fetch Constable Purvis. The braver civilian, who was really Mister Doyle in the flesh, asked Purvis to posse up and ride after the others. But Purvis never did."

Longarm blew a thoughtful smoke ring and said, "He didn't seem so anxious to posse up after a kid got shot in the head in town this morning, come to study on it. I took it at the time as common sense. Maybe it was. But I follow your drift about Baldwin being a tad more secure out here."

He yawned again, snubbed out his barely smoked cheroot, and said, "I ain't sure solitary confinement makes him tougher for his pals to bust out, if that's who's been shooting at me lately. I know bread and water ain't what Doc Richards would prescribe for a recovering fever victim, if he's recovered worth shit. Meanwhile, as the song says, farther along we'll know more about it. If I gave you my gun do you reckon you could guard me from assassination whilst I caught at least an hour's sleep?"

Gilbert nodded, but as Longarm stood to remove his hat and gun rig told him, "You can catch three or four, if you like. They don't serve supper around here before they blow horns and lower the flag around sundown. Miss Norma ain't never got back any earlier."

He might have said more. But Longarm closed his eyes before he'd finished flopping atop the covers of the empty cot, and the next thing he knew it seemed old Ruby had forgiven him after all. So he hauled her down atop him and kissed her good before he noticed she had a far bigger left tit and had pulled back mighty quickly while somewhere in the gloom young Gilbert seemed to be laughing like hell.

Then Longarm got his bearings, smiled sheepishly up at the red-faced Norma Richards, and said, "Sorry, ma'am. I thought you were somebody else."

Norma was flustered. "That seems obvious! I was only bending over to feel your brow. Your Deputy Gilbert here seems well enough to laugh like a hyena, if not fit to lead a charge uphill. I just came from the brig. But they wouldn't let me in to check on Mister Baldwin. They say he's to stay locked up alone until he learns better manners. Can they do that to even a rude civilian, Custis?"

Longarm swung his boots to the floor and held out his hand to Gilbert for his gun rig as he growled, "No. But it may take some convincing. They wouldn't let me at the Winchester you stored away for me out here either. Do you reckon I could have it now?"

Gilbert chortled, "Hot damn! Are we going to bust him out at gunpoint, pard?"

Longarm said, "Nope. I want you to stay here. Miss Norma and me are only going to feed him and take his temperature if the Coast Guard knows what's good for it."

He strapped on his gun, put on his hat, and told Norma he was ready whenever she was.

The Junoesque bacteriologist led the way, but told him she hoped he wasn't serious about armed conflict with the U.S. Coast Guard, as they strode along the veranda of the long building. He said it wasn't for him to say. It was up to them whether they wanted to let him at his own confounded federal prisoner or not.

They got to the last door down, and Norma unlocked it with a key from an apron pocket. It was dark inside with the sun way down in the western sky. But there was enough tiger-stripe light coming in through the jalousie shutters for him to make out his McClellan at the foot of the bedstead where she'd draped it over the rail. The walnut stock of his Winchester '73 saddle gun stood somewhat higher. So he hauled it from its boot and told her, "You'd best wait here a few minutes. If you don't hear shooting within ten, come on over to the brig. You'll know they let me in without a war."

She got between him and the door, pleading, "Please don't fight them, Custis. That horrid outlaw just isn't worth it. I'd tell you what he said to me the last time I tried to examine him, but you do seem mad enough already!"

He told her politely but firmly, "I ain't looking for no fight. I already knew Clay Baldwin was a worthless skunk. They sent me to bring him and young Gilbert back. They never said they wanted either of 'em dead. So stand aside and give me ten, like I said, if you don't want me grabbing you by that swell tit again."

It worked. She crawfished out of his way, blushing like a rose as she told him he was horrid. So he just strode on out, levering a round in the chamber of his Winchester as he crossed the parade with the weapon held at port.

They must have expected something like that at the guard post to the north. A chief petty officer and eight guardsmen wearing leggings, S.P. armbands, and Spencer repeaters seemed to be lined up between him and his intended goal.

Longarm stopped at easy pistol range to proclaim, "I'd be U.S. Deputy Marshal Custis Long, and I understand you're holding my own sweet federal prisoner in that brig behind YOU."

The C.P.O., who stood almost as tall and twice as wide as Longarm, replied in a politely firm tone, "We are, and that's where he's to remain until Lieutenant Flynn says different."

Longarm replied, just as firmly if not as politely, "I don't aim to take him off with me without your C.O.'s official release in writing. I only want to make sure he leaves here alive, and I understand you as much as told his attending physician to go jump in the lagoon."

The burly Coast Guard noncom chuckled wistfully and replied, "I'd be proud to go swimming with a gal built so swell. But that ain't what we suggested. We only told her the lieutenant told us the prisoner's to have one jar of water and two slices of white bread per diem, and no visitors until further notice."

Longarm said, "Damn it. Nobody wants to visit with the son of a bitch. I want to question him and Doc Richards wants to take his damn temperature!"

The C.P.O. nodded. "She already told us. We ain't trying to be mean to nobody, Deputy. It's just that we got orders and, well, orders are orders, see?"

Longarm said, "I got my orders too. So would you kindly order your men out of my way and unlock the damned door before somebody gets hurt?"

The C.P.O. laughed incredulously. "We heard they were sending a famous gunfighter of the civilian persuasion, Longarm. Do you really think you can get by my pistol and eight rifles with one saddle gun?"

Longarm shrugged modestly and said, "I got this six-gun at my side as well, and this Winchester fires fifteen times before I have to reload it. So make your point."

It got sort of quiet as the sun sank lower and a color guard came marching out across the parade behind Longarm's back. Then a distant female voice called out, "Custis! Stop that! That steam cutter just tied up out at the end of the pier and Lieutenant Flynn will be ashore any minute!"

Longarm and the burly N.C.O. stared silently at one another for a time. Then the Coast Guardsman said, "We ain't backing down. But this does seem a dumb time to settle it the noisy way."

Longarm replied, "Great minds seem to run in the same channels. So I reckon we'll never know who'd have won, unless your lieutenant is a really dedicated asshole."

To which the C.P.O. replied with a surprisingly boyish laugh, "Oh, I know who'd have won, and be it recorded it was your idea, not mine, to call Lieutenant Flynn an asshole."

Some of the others were grinning in the sunset's red rays as behind him they started to lower the flag. So Longarm turned about on one heel to remove his hat and stand at attention with the cocked Winchester down to one side, sincerely hoping he might not have to gun any of those nice kids.

CHAPTER 11

Longarm had been braced for a seagoing version of a pompous army officer he'd knocked down one time. But Lieutenant Flynn, who'd have been a captain in the army, turned out to be a sandy-haired and politely poker-faced cuss with eyes the same shade of gray as two oysters on the half shell going stale.

When Norma Richards brought him over, Flynn said it was jake with him if they wanted to listen to Clay Baldwin cuss. As that C.P.O. opened up, the lieutenant said he'd have the mess attendants save his civilian guests some supper, and turned away to go eat his own.

Longarm forgave the Coast Guard a lot when he finally got in to Baldwin's solitary cell with Norma and a lamp. Clay Baldwin didn't look like an owlhoot rider wanted for murder and grand larceny. He looked like some actor made up for the part of the village idiot in his ill-fitting duds and half-sprouted beard. As they entered, Baldwin leered at Norma and asked her, "Been getting any pronging of late, Chubby? If you ain't, I got eight inches I'd just love to have you skin for me with your tight little twat!"

Longarm snapped, "Knock it off, Baldwin. I ain't gonna say that twice."

Baldwin grinned lewdly. "Aw, have I insulted your own play-pretty, Uncle Sam? Don't worry. I ain't greedy. You can have my sloppy seconds after I show her what a real man has to offer."

And then he was flat on his ass in a far corner with a split lip as Longarm rubbed his knuckles thoughtfully and muttered, "Next time you get kicked. Guess where."

So Baldwin mentioned his balls in front of a lady, and howled like a kicked pup when Longarm kicked him there as promised.

Norma gasped, "For heaven's sake, can't you see he's crazy? Don't mistreat him further on my account. You should hear what some men call me when they're delirious with fever back in town!"

Longarm said, "This one ain't feverish. He's what we call a jail house lawyer. what's misled him about what we can or can't do to a federal prisoner. Are you listening to me, you poor misled or just plain stupid rascal?"

Holding himself by the balls with both legs drawn up as he lay on one side on the concrete, Baldwin whimpered, "Damn it, Longarm, you ain't allowed to torture me. It says so in the Constitution!"

Longarm smiled down at him and replied, not unkindly, "Try sassing Judge Dickerson of the Denver District Court, once I get you back to him, if you'd like to see some cruel and unusual punishment. Are you ready to act like a grown man now, or would you like me to hold you down while the doc here gives you an enema for your own good?"

Norma blushed like hell, but laughed and declared, "I think that's a grand idea, Custis. Anyone can see this wayward youth is full of shit!"

So Clay Baldwin allowed he'd as soon behave more properly, and never said anything dirty as Norma took his pulse and temperature, hunkered down beside him in a way that surely made her white skirt tight across her ample but shapely behind.

Longarm waited until Norma took the thermometer out and said he didn't seem to be running a fever now, before he told the mean-eyed cuss, "I'll see you get a decent supper tonight. You'll eat the same as Gilbert and me on the way back to Denver. Whether you ride all the way in leg irons and cuffs or just cuffs is up to you. For as I hope you understand by now, I treat a prisoner no better or no worse than he asks me to."

Baldwin said sullenly he'd only been funning and didn't want to stand trial back in Colorado all busted up. So Longarm nodded and said, "Bueno. Neither you nor Deputy Gilbert will be called upon to do much more than sit as we work our way home by boat and train. So let's hope Gilbert's as frisky as you come morning, and we might be on our way."

When Baldwin didn't argue, Longarm added, "One more thing, though. I've been having repeated problems with some pals of yours, Clay. Hamp Godwynn and Squint Reynolds are both dead."

Baldwin stared thoughtfully up at Longarm, shrugged, and asked, "Am I supposed to cry? Never heard of either of 'em. You say you gunned 'em?"

"Only Reynolds," Longarm modestly replied. "A Ranger got Godwynn up to Corpus Christi. I don't care how you feel about anyone out there in the dark. My point is that should anyone make any try at taking you away from Gilbert and me on the way out of here, you have my word you'll be among the first to die. Doc Richards here can assure you a really determined cuss can get off more than one good shot with a bullet in his heart. Ain't that right, Doc?"

Norma swallowed and declared, "Some people can remain conscious for as long as four minutes after heart failure. Don't hold me to how rational anyone might feel full of bullets!"

Longarm smiled grimly and said, "There you go, Clay. A bright boy like you ought to see the odds are better in court than in the company of a mighty unrational but highly annoyed cuss holding a gun on you!"

Baldwin wiped his bloody lip with the back of one sleeve as he insisted, "I don't know what you're jawing about. I told the boys I might have herded some stock out for parts unknown if I didn't come back with some money poco tiempo. You know I got double-crossed and turned over to the law. I don't know which way the others rode. We planned to split up with just such a conversation as this one in mind. I couldn't find a one of 'em now if I rode out after 'em myself. But I will say I'd be surprised to find any of 'em anywheres near Escondrijo now!"

Longarm said, "I might take your word on that if you could explain what you meant by a double cross. Are you saying you had reason to feel Pryce & Doyle might be in the market for stolen beef?"

Baldwin snorted, "Why, no, I always sell stolen property where I suspect they might call the law on me! Of course I was told that meat-packing outfit sent cold-storage meat to market with neither hides nor brands in evidence! But when I sashayed in to talk money with that prissy Mister Doyle... Hell, Longarm, you know the rest of my sad story."