“There you go. Mendez was sent to follow up on the first spooky killing when the Dream Singers started scaring folks about the Wendigo. The idea was to scare the Blackfoot off all that open range. Mendez was a hired thug. Don’t know if the grisly trimmings were his idea or not. He didn’t have much imagination. Kept pulling the same fool tricks till I caught him.”
Jason frowned and said, “Wait a minute. Loose ends are one thing, but this is ridiculous! You say you think Johnny Hunts Alone killed Real Bear, but you’ve given up on catching him?”
“I’d catch him if he was on the reservation. But he ain’t. He likely lit out shortly after killing the informer. His only reason for being in these parts was to hide out. With the Justice Department, army, Indian agency and all combing the reservation for the Wendigo …”
“I follow your drift. He’s likely in Mexico by now. But what was that about someone putting Mendez up to those other killings?”
The deputy laughed softly. “Ain’t it obvious? Mendez didn’t kill folks as a hobby. He did it for money. He was hired to run the Blackfoot off a huge stretch of virgin range. None of the big cattle outfits would be in a position to claim or buy the land, once it was deserted, but they don’t buy open range in the first place. They pay a fee per head to the government to graze it. Cal Durler says he’s had lots of offers but he turned them all down. Says he was offered a few bribes, too.” Longarm reached for a cheroot, lit it, and mused, “Had the Blackfoot run to Canada as planned, the B.I.A. would have fired Durler as dead wood.”
“Then who would they go to with an offer on the grazing rights?” Jason asked.
“Land office, of course. Bureau of Land Management has the say on all federal lands not occupied by anybody.”
“You mean Chadwick could lease out grazing rights on Indian lands?”
Longarm nodded. “Sure. He says he can’t, but I checked with Washington and he has the power to lease even your army post, if it ain’t being used by anybody. The grazing rights are leased on a yearly basis. Land office can grant the rights to the White House lawn if President Hayes ain’t there to object.”
“Kee-rist! Don’t you see what that means, Longarm?”
The lawman took a long drag on his cheroot and blew out a thick column of bluish smoke. For a moment, he watched it thin out and spread to merge with the pall already floating in the thick atmosphere of the saloon, then he said, “That Chadwick ain’t up on his regulations? Or that he’d have been in position to line his pockets if the Blackfoot had deserted all that land?”
“Good God Almighty! Ain’t you going to arrest him?” Jason asked.
“I’d like to,” Longarm said. “But on what charge? Mendez is dead, so he can’t be a witness. There’s nothing I can prove. But what the hell, the killings are over and he’ll be too scared to try again, so I’m closing the books on the case.”
Jason drained his glass and held his finger up to the bartender for another as he growled, “That’s raw as hell, Longarm! Can’t you see Chadwick was behind it all? You know how big cattle spreads take care of government men who can grant ‘em grazing rights while keeping smaller men off the free grass!”
Longarm nodded morosely, and agreed, “Sure, I know. But I can’t touch the rascal. It’s no crime to be a mite confused about his land office regulations. Not in court, anyway. He was never on the reservation or anywhere near the victims, so what am I to do about it?”
“By God, if it was me wearing that badge I’d shoot the son of a bitch!” Jason said vehemently.
“I’ve studied on that. The man’s a federal official with powerful friends. Wouldn’t be legal for me to just up and gun him down like the dog he is. But like I said, he likely won’t try anything else. He was mixed up in another scandal a few years back and it took him a long time to get up the nerve to have another go at the pork barrel. So he’ll retire poor but honest. It happens that way, once in a while.”
Jason grabbed his fresh drink peevishly and snapped, “I thought you had more sand in your craw! Ain’t you even gonna have harsh words with him over all he did to them poor folks?”
Longarm shrugged. “I could lecture him some, but he’d just laugh at me. He’s had time to cover his crooked tracks better than his hired Wendigo ever did. No, I’ll just leave polite and peaceable. I’m only a deputy and he’s got some powerful pals in higher circles. One thing I’ve had to learn the hard way, Jason, is that the big shots never get caught.”
“Jesus, you call that justice?”
“Nope, I call it the facts of life. I’ve got enough on my plate with the little bastards they send me after.” He took out his watch and consulted it before he added, “I’ve got some wires to send at the station and a ticket to buy. If I don’t meet up with you again, it’s been nice knowing you, Jason.”
Leaving the scout to brood about it over his drink, Longarm left and walked over to the station. He went inside, then out the far door to the dark tracks. He moved west along the railroad right-of-way until he came abreast of an alleyway cutting behind the storefronts of the main street. Then he drew his .44 and moved slowly down the alley toward the back door of the land office.
He took his time deliberately, but he’d reached the back fence when he heard a fusillade of gunshots, followed by a ghastly scream!
Longarm nodded and moved in slowly and cautiously. The screams were still going on as he kicked in the back door and moved along the dimly lit corridor in their direction. They were coming from the telegraph lean-to.
Longarm heard the front door slam, so he entered the shack. Agent Chadwick was rolling on the floor in a puddle of blood and steaming battery acid, his hands covering his smoldering face as he wailed, “Oh, Jesus! Mary, Mother of God, I can’t stand it!”
Longarm placed one boot on a dry spot, holstered his .44, grabbed one of Chadwick’s booted ankles, and hauled him clear of the vitriol and broken battery glass, saying, “Don’t rub it in, you stupid son of a bitch!”
He dragged Chadwick along the corridor, leaving a trail of smoldering carpet in their wake, and kicked out the front door to drag the screaming land agent out into the street. People ran from every direction as Longarm hauled Chadwick through the dust to a watering trough, picked him up by the belt, and plunged him full-length into the water, soaking his own arms to the elbows as he did so. He called out, “Somebody run for the doc and stand clear of that splashed shit. Even mixed with water it’s strong enough to peel you alive!”
