“That’s all he can expect,” Gower agreed. “I made it plain to him that as long as you’re wearing a federal badge, our case comes first.”
“Let’s leave it that way, then,” Longarm said. “When’s this newspaper piece coming out? It’ll have to be soon, if it’s going to do me any good.”
“It’ll be in tomorrow morning’s paper,” Gower promised. “And I sure as hell hope it works!”
“So do I,” Longarm agreed. “But we won’t be no further behind than we are now, if it don’t.”
A stack of newspapers stood on the hotel’s registration desk when Longarm went by the next morning on his way to breakfast in the dining room. He picked one up. It still smelled of printer’s ink. He glanced at the glaring headlines. The editor of the Fort Smith Elevator had pulled out all the stops.
RAILROAD POLICEMAN FOULLY MURDERED! the top headline proclaimed. In only slightly smaller type, the line below read, FLEEING DESPERADO SOUGHT BY OFFICERS!
Chuckling inwardly, but keeping his face impassive, Longarm folded the paper under his arm and read the story while waiting for his breakfast to be cooked and served.
Fort Smith’s good citizenry is appalled by the latest outrage perpetrated by the desperadoes who slink into our fair and law-abiding community from their privileged sanctuaries in the Cherokee and Choctaw Nations. The latest victim of their foul misdeeds is the heroic Julius Castell, a policeman employed by the St. Louis & San Francisco Railway Co. Officer Castell was shot to death behind the Union Station yesterday just before the supper hour by a vicious killer who is even now being pursued in the direction of Van Buren by the dedicated men of our proud constabulary.
It is not known how Officer Castell allowed the desperado to “get the drop” on him. Officer Castell was known to be of an utterly fearless nature and an excellent shot with the pistol, having been formerly an investigator for the famous Pinkerton Detective Agency. The murdered victim’s revolver was found beside him, with all of its six shells fired, when his body was discovered by Officer Milford of the Fort Smith force. Chief Constable Murphy is of the opinion that there was an exchange of gunfire in which the heartless miscreant who slew Officer Castell was wounded. A large force has gone in search of the killer, who is reported to have been witnessed slinking from the scene of the crime in a northerly direction. The good Chief has sworn that no stone will be left unturned, no nook or cranny in which the desperate outlaw murderer might hide will be overlooked, until the bloodthirsty fiend who perpetrated the foul misdeed has been brought before the Bar of Justice, where he is expected to be sentenced to a well-deserved hanging.
Well, old son, Longarm chuckled to himself, That chief sure did deliver what he said he was going to. Why, hell, if I didn’t know what really happened, I’d be right tempted to jump right up and start chasing myself.
Folding the paper, Longarm tucked it into his coat pocket and gave his attention to the platter of steak and eggs the waiter set before him. An hour later, when he’d claimed his horse and gear from Hare’s Livery Stable on the Texas Road and started for the ferry, he transferred the newspaper to his saddlebag. As he rode toward Younger’s Bend after crossing on the ferry, he felt less like he was going naked to stir up a hornet’s nest.
Because Longarm didn’t relish the idea of being mistaken for someone else and getting potshot at in the dark, he slept beside the trail after his late start, and arrived at Younger’s Bend in broad daylight. Sam Starr was carrying a bucket of water from the well to the house when Longarm rode up.
“Hello, Windy. What’d you do, ride all night last night, getting here at this time of day?” Starr asked.
“No. Slept along the trail. Got a late start out of Fort Smith.”
Longarm dismounted and led his hammerhead bay to the barn.
Starr put the bucket of water on the steps and followed him into the barn. He said, “We looked for you yesterday.”
“And figured when I didn’t show up that I might not be coming back?
That ain’t my way of doing business, Sam.”
“Well, there was a lot of conversation. Floyd’s still a little bit upset about Mckee, you know.”
“Damned if that man don’t let a thing stick in his craw worse than anybody I ever met.” Longarm took the saddle off the bay and tossed it across one of the stall partitions to air out. He threw his saddlebags over one shoulder, his bedroll over the other, and picked up his Winchester.
“I guess nobody’s moved into my cabin while I was gone?”
“Of course not. Listen, Windy, if you’re hungry, I can fix you a bite. It won’t be a bit of trouble.”
“Oh, I had breakfast when I got up this morning, Sam. Thanks all the same, but I can hold out till noon.”
“I guess the girl got off on the train all right?”
“Yep. She’s on her way. Hell, she’s probably already back in Texarkana by this time.”
“Belle was thinking-” Starr stopped abruptly. “Well, it ain’t important.”
“What you started to say was, Belle was thinking I might decide to go along with the girl, and not come back?”
“Something like that,” Starr replied. He added quickly, “She’ll be glad to know you’re back, though.”
Longarm looked around questioningly. “Where is Belle, anyhow?”
“She’s gone with Yazoo to deliver a load of whiskey. I generally go too, when we’re making a delivery, but this time Floyd said he’d enjoy a little boat ride. And Steed and Bobby rode into Eufaula; they said they wanted to look the town over.”
“Boat ride?” Longarm’s brow creased. “Hell, Sam, I didn’t even know you had a boat around the
