forget. Not that I was allowed to testify during the court-martial. But I was with my father through all those years. I knew. My father knew. His mistake was in his loyalty to men who weren’t worthy of the trust he placed in them. He was in charge of supply procurement, you know.”
“I heard that, yes.”
“He conducted himself honorably and with scrupulous attention to detail. Unfortunately for him there were others, officers who were in charge of the actual disbursement of those supplies, who acted in collusion with several of the Indian agents on the reservations at the time. My father saw that all appropriate materials were made available. All of it of the best possible quality too. Then others took those supplies and sold them on the civilian market. They either took them outright or in some instances replaced them with inferior goods. The Indians who were supposed to receive the supplies received useless goods. Or many times received nothing at all. It couldn’t have been done without the cooperation of both the reservation agents and the officers in charge of the actual distribution.”
Longarm grunted. What young Reese was telling him was, sadly enough, an all too common tale.
“The saddest thing of all, Marshal, is that my father knew about this. He learned about it at least eight months before charges were filed. Oh, he agonized over that knowledge. And in the end, you see, he decided that he could not bring charges against men who he regarded as his brothers. He pleaded with them to desist. He even threatened to expose them. But in his heart of hearts—he told me this himself—he knew he could never bear to ruin them.” Reese’s laugh was short and bitter. “They repaid him well for his loyalty. They falsified documents and brought charges against him. For their own crimes. I am sure, we both are sure, they believed if they did not strike first, then he would expose them as he so often threatened he would.”
“What about what he knew then? Shouldn’t that of been more’n enough of a defense for him?”
“Marshal. Please. Who would have believed him if he had tried to say anything after charges were already pending against him? It would have been taken as a craven attempt to wriggle out from under the truth.”
“So he stood there an’ took it on the chin?”
“He had no choice, Marshal. Besides, he still believed in his fellow officers. Then. He went to prison still certain that one of his brothers would yet step forward to exonerate him.” Reese snorted. “Brothers indeed. Scrupulus sons of bitches is more like it.” The handsome young man brightened and began to smile. “But say, did you know that most of them are dead now?”
“Oh, really?”
“My, yes. There’s a delightful irony in it, don’t you think?”
“I’d think that only if it happened by accident,” Longarm said.
Steven Reese shrugged. “By happenstance or misadventure, I think it hardly matters so long as the end result remains. They all deserved to die, you know. From that pompous Fetterman right on through to the last man on the list.”
“Except for your father,” Longarm said.
“Yes, of course. Except for him.”
“And you intend to see that it works out like that.”
“I never said that, did I, Marshal? Please don’t assume more than meets the eye. Surely you’ve been taught that.”
“I been taught a lotta things, Steve. Among ‘em being that murder is wrong.”
“Yes, there are wrongs. And then there are greater wrongs. Who are we to judge which among many wrongs is the greater or the lesser?”
“Me, I don’t try to. But I hear tell you sometimes take that chore upon yourself.”
“Do you have a warrant for my arrest, Marshal?”
“Well, um, no. Not exactly.”
“Then tell me, sir. Is there a point to this conversation?”
“I’d like for there to be, son. I’d sure as hell like to talk you out of this scheme of yours. I’d like to see you pull outa here and—I dunno—go visit your papa while you still can. All that money, son, it won’t buy him a day more than his appointed time. Ain’t that what the Book says? Our days are all numbered an’ there’s naught we can do to change any least bit of whatever is ordained.”
“Do you believe that, Marshal?”
“The question ain’t so much what I believe, son, as what’s true. So what is it that you believe?”
“I believe that my loyalty belongs to my father, Marshal. And to justice. Regardless of law.”
“You don’t look as hard as you are, y’know that?”
The young man smiled, making him look even younger and more boyish than before. “Yes, in fact I do know that. It has stood me in good stead too, if I do say it.”
“Yeah, I’ll bet. With that meek an’ mild look on you, Steve, I bet you can walk right up to a man an’ shoot him between the eyes without him ever once thinking his time had come.”
Reese laughed, and in the sound there was an edge of hysteria, or worse, that made Longarm realize for the first time that this gentle veneer the boy wore had no more depth than the clothing on his back.
Beneath the gentle, entirely presentable surface he showed to the world, Steven Reese was crazy as hell. Murderously crazy.
“Steve, what I think I’d best do is ask you to come with me while we check an’ see are there any warrants outstanding.”
“I thought you said …”
