happened, and I’d love to have you explain it all to me.”
Longarm shrugged and followed her inside, where a pot of coffee was already boiling on the stove. She’d likely put it on as soon as she’d heard him ride in.
He sat down at the table and said, “Well, I’ve told this tale so many times I’m sick of it, so I’ll make it short and sweet.”
Which he did, between draughts of Prudence’s strong coffee, up to the events of the previous few hours. When he had finished, Prudence Lee said, “So the Wendigo business was all a ruse to drive the Indians away to Canada, right?”
“Yep. Almost worked, too,” Longarm said, taking a sip of coffee.
“But you were waiting for the Wendigo on the train. The fact that the Ghost Dancer was murdered miles from the track never fooled you?”
“Heck, no. I could see right off who did it. When you read two men going in and one coming out, and don’t believe in ghosts, there can only be one answer. Rain Crow tracked the Ghost Dancer down and killed him for being a troublemaker. Then, when he saw he might have exceeded his authority a mite, he tried to make it look like the Wendigo had done it.”
“Are you going to have to arrest Rain Crow?” Prudence asked, a troubled look in her eyes.
“No. By now he’s figured out what he did wrong. Had he just up and shot the jasper, as a lawman trying to make an arrest, there’d have been no crime to report. I suppose I could get picky about it, but I’m not of a mind to. I could make a fuss about Snake Killer’s homemade liquor, too. But I’m a peace officer, not a man to cause trouble for peaceable folk. Besides, I see Calvin’s got a jar of Snake Killer’s medicine next door, likely, helping him get through the first troubled nights. So I ain’t putting anything about firewater in my official report.”
As she poured him another cup of coffee, he said, “That’s about the size of all that’s happened, Miss Prudence. I’ll just drink this and be on my way.”
“Don’t you think we’d be more comfortable on the davenport, out in the other room?” Prudence asked.
“If you say so, ma’am.”
He followed her into the parlor, where he noticed that she didn’t light the lamp as they sat down together. She waited until he’d swallowed a few sips before she said, quietly, “I’ll be going into town myself, in the morning. Would you take me with you?”
“You leaving for good or just shopping, ma’am?”
“For good. Why do you ask?”
“I’ve returned the hired buckboard. I could ride you postern on the chestnut, if it was just a shopping expedition. Packing you and all your gear on one horse, though, is another story, I’m afraid.”
“I won’t be taking much. Just my personals, in one bag. I noticed when Nan left that a woman can carry all she really needs in one neat bundle.”
“What about your big bass drum, Miss Prudence?”
She laughed oddly, and said, “To hell with the big bass drum! I’m so tired of beating it I could scream!”
Not meeting her gaze, Longarm asked, “Don’t you want to be a missionary any more, ma’am?”
“I never wanted to be a missionary, but what was I to do? I don’t know how to play one of those new typewriters, I’m not pretty enough to be an actress, and I don’t know how to walk a tightrope in the circus.”
“Now those are purely interesting trades for a lady, ma’am. Are you saying you just took up reading Bibles because you needed a job?”
“Of course. It was that or work I’m not ready for. I was rather desperate when I checked into that home for wayward girls, and when they offered me a position as a missionary … well, damn it, what was I to do? Work in a fancy house? I may have strayed, some may have said I was fallen. But, damn it, I never fell that far!”
“I see.” Longarm nodded sagely. “That gal you were telling me about—the one who ran off with a rascal who deserted her? She was you all the time, right?”
“Of course. Don’t tell me you didn’t have that figured out!”
Longarm winked. “The thought sort of crossed my mind, but it wasn’t my business.”
“So now you know. And I don’t mind telling you it’s a load off my mind! I was getting so sick of playing Little Miss Goody.”
He chuckled and said, “A little goody ain’t all that bad, taken in moderation. If you’re giving up on being a missionary, what’s your next goal—learning to play a typewriter after all?”
“Anything would be an improvement over reading the Bible to a lot of people who just aren’t interested. I thought I’d get back to civilization with the little I have left and … I don’t know. That story about Madam Lamont had a moral, all right. I noticed that while she was atoning, she got rich at it.”
Longarm drained the cup, placed it on the floor, and leaned back to observe, “You ain’t as wicked as you’d have to be to take up that line of work, honey. Don’t be so hard on yourself.”
“What makes you so sure I couldn’t be one of those women?”
“You ain’t cold-blooded enough. There’s a poor, lonesome fool right next door, with a good income, and he’s ripe for the plucking. A wicked lady would be over there right now, helping him forget his troubles while she taught him to leap through hoops. A gal who was willing to sell her favors could take that idiot for every cent he had and make him wire home for more!”
“My God! The thought never crossed my mind!” Prudence gasped.
“There you go. You just don’t think like a dance-hall gal. You’ll likely wind up an honest woman in spite of yourself.”
