apart when it turned out we’d captured the wrong man. I thought, just maybe, you were out to nail just anyone, in lieu of Cotton Younger.”
“Not quite, ma’am. Don’t think I could get anyone to buy Mabel Hanks as Cotton Younger. She ain’t built right.”
The Federal Building was near the Mormon Temple grounds on the tree-shaded Main Street of Salt Lake City. A crowd of curious onlookers gathered as the big party of strange riders stopped in front of the baroque outpost of far-off Washington.
Longarm dismounted and told some of the hands to keep the crowd back as he and Timberline helped the handcuffed woman down from her horse. A worried-looking bailiff came out to watch as they led Mabel Hanks, sputtering and cursing, up the stone steps.
Longarm noticed Kim Stover tagging along at his side and muttered, “You’d best wait out here, ma’am.”
“I’ve ridden too long a way to miss the ending, Longarm. I promise not to say anything or get in the way.”
He saw there was no sense in trying to stop her, so he dropped it. He nodded to the bailiff and said, “I’m Deputy Long. Denver office. You likely got the wire I sent from Ouray Reservation about this suspect. Where do you want her?”
“Judge Hawkins ain’t arrived yet, Deputy. We’d best get her to his chambers and I’ll send over to his house for him. Ought to be just finishing breakfast by now.”
Longarm followed the uniformed man inside, along with Timberline, Kim, and Mabel Hanks, who kept swearing at them. They went up a flight of marble steps with iron railings to the second floor, where the bailiff ushered them into a deserted courtroom and then into the judge’s smaller, private chambers beyond. When he had left them alone there, Kim asked, “What happens now?”
Longarm said, “We wait. Waiting is the worst part of this job.”
Timberline asked, “Do we have to sit through a trial like?”
Longarm said, “No, just a preliminary hearing before the judge. He’ll set her bail and a date for the trial. She’ll likely spend a month or more waiting ‘fore it gets serious.”
Kim asked, “Won’t you have to attend the trial, Longarm?”
“Sure. They’ll send me back from Denver when it starts. But like I said, we’re getting to the slow part. By the time it’s all wrapped up you two will be up in Crooked Lance, fighting the buyers over the price of beef. Sometimes I wish I’d stayed a cowboy.”
Mabel Hanks suddenly spat, “I’ll never swing for it, God damn your eyes! This is a raw, pure railroad job you’re pulling on me, Longarm!”
“Oh, I don’t know. I disremember if you said Cedric killed Kincaid.”
“You know he didn’t. The poor little mutt wouldn’t hurt a fly, you big bully!”
“Let’s save it for the judge. It’s tedious to remind you over and over about them.44-40 slugs he was throwing my way in his innocence.”
As if he’d been announced, Judge W.R. Hawkins came in wearing everyday duds and a frown. He was dabbing at some egg-stains on the front of his vest as he sat behind his imposing desk and asked, “What’s all this about, Deputy Long?”
Longarm saw that the others had all found places to perch, so he lowered himself to a chair arm and asked, “Don’t we rate a proper hearing with some bailiffs and all, Judge? Ought to have a matron for this lady, too. It’s a long story and I’d like to get the cuffs off her.”
“Just give me a grasp of what we’ve got and we’ll work out the niceties as they come up. I’m holding regular court in less’n an hour.”
Longarm shrugged, fished the key from his pants, and tossed it over to Timberline. “Unlock her and sort of stand over there by the door, will you? I reckon Mabel knows enough to be a good girl, but we gotta do things proper, court in an hour or no.”
He waited ‘til Timberline had carried out his instructions before he began to tell the whole story from the beginning. After a few minutes he started to describe the sniping in Bitter Creek.
“Hold on, now,” Hawkins cut in. “Did you see this lady firing at you from across the street?”
“Not exactly, but we found high-heel prints and a.30-30 is a womanly rifle, Your Honor.”
“Hmmph, I’ve seen many a cowboy in high heels, and as for a.30-30 being womanly, I hunt deer with one myself! Are you saying I’m a sissy or that I took a shot at you in Bitter Creek?”
“Neither, Your Honor. I’m saying it’s circumstantial evidence.”
“Damn slim, too! Keep talking.”
Longarm told the rest of it, with a few more interruptions from the judge. When he got to the part about the Mountie stealing the corpse of Raymond Tinker the judge laughed aloud and said, “Hold on! Are you saying that fool Canadian, backed by them rascals in the State Department, is packing the wrong man all the way back to Winnepeg in high summer?”
“Yessir, he seems to take his job right serious.”
“By jimmies, I can’t wait to tell the boys at the club that part. But you lost me somewhere, Deputy Long. You say it looks like this lady killed at least two, maybe three men. What have you to say for yourself, ma’am?”
