“Bill, why don’t you put a rifle and pistol in the coach for Miranda? We’ll both ride inside, and if that gang decides to hold up the stage, we’ll give them one hell of an unpleasant surprise.”
“You sure?” Bill asked. “You could both get shot.”
“That’s right, but this might be the only way to rid the territory of that gang. I can drop two of them before they know what hit them. Miranda can shoot at least one, and the fight will be over in a hurry.”
“I dunno,” Bill said, looking extremely worried. “It’s one thing to hire a man and pay him for risking his damned neck, but asking a woman to do it, well …”
“Give us free tickets to Cortez,” Miranda said. “I think that would be payment enough, don’t you, Custis?”
“Sure,” Longarm agreed. “We’ll do it for a free ride and eats to Cortez. How does that square with you, Bill?”
“It sits just fine,” the older man said. “And I’m sure that Charley will be happy too. He’s tough, but he’s no match for a gang of highwaymen.”
Longarm consulted his pocket watch. “We’ll be going back to the Belmont to wait until it’s time to leave.”
“I’ll send a boy over to fetch you,” Bill said. “I sure appreciate this. I’ve got mail and supplies that need to go west, and I was trying to decide whether or not to take the chance of sending them. Now I sure will.”
“Good,” Longarm said, taking Miranda’s arm and steering her back toward their hotel.
“Sure sorry that you have to leave,” Mrs. Jackson said when they returned. “There’s good fishing down at the creek and the wild berries are waiting to be picked. I got a basketful yesterday, and I’m going to make a pie tonight that I’d like you to enjoy.”
“We’d like that,” Longarm said, meaning it, “but we are taking today’s stage.”
“I expected you would change your mind after hearing about the robberies,” she said. “Might be better to come see Mesa Verde next year when its safer.”
“You know that I’m a lawman. I can’t and won’t run from trouble.”
“What about your pretty wife?” the old lady asked with disapproval. “She’d sure be a prize for them outlaws.”
“I’ll be fine,” Miranda assured her.
“I sure hope so! A woman as pretty as you are has no business taking a stagecoach over them mountains when outlaws are raising Cain with the common folks.”
“Please don’t worry,” Miranda said.
“Don’t make sense to me to risk your neck to see some Indian bones and pots. Not when we got them right here in our own museums. That’s my opinion.”
Longarm managed to escape the woman and take Miranda up to their hotel room. They jumped into bed and made love again, and then napped for a couple of hours before a boy came to knock on their door.
“Stagecoach just got here!” the boy called. “Bill says to come on over ‘cause Charley don’t wait for nobody-“
“We’ll be along directly,” Longarm said, piling out of bed and dressing quickly.
It took Miranda a few more minutes, and then they gathered their bags and headed downstairs.
“Damned foolishness!” Mrs. Jackson called as they waved her good-bye and hurried outside. “You take care of that pretty girl now!”
“I will,” Longarm shouted back at the hotel owner. “Don’t you worry about that!”
When they arrived at the stage station, Bill introduced them to Charley Blue. He was bearded and of average height, in his late fifties, with sloping shoulders and muscular arms. He was also a tobacco chewer, and kept spitting into the dust.
“I sure don’t approve of a guard who brings along a woman,” Charley grumped. “Damned if it makes any sense at all to me, Marshal Long.”
“Miranda is a good shot, and I’ll be riding down in the coach with her. Where are the other passengers that are supposed to be going to Durango?”
“Here they come now,” Bill said, pointing up the street at a handsome young couple. The husband was dressed in a dark suit, and his young wife wore a flowered dress. Both were lugging heavy suitcases, and looked tired and under a great deal of strain. Longarm would have bet anything they’d spent a lot of time arguing about the wisdom of taking this journey, even though they could risk losing their Durango jobs.
The young man’s name was Trent Roe, and his wife was named Esther. Longarm took Roe’s measure, and saw that the young man looked determined but would probably not be much help in a gunfight. His wife was slender and delicate-looking, her black hair mussed.
“All aboard,” Charley called after the introductions. “We got a long way to go before we reach the overnight station.”
Longarm helped Miranda into the stagecoach and Trent did the same for Esther. They settled in comfortably enough and smiled at each other as Bill shoved both a Winchester and a shotgun into the coach, saying, “I hope you don’t need these, but you might. Good luck.”
“Thanks,” Longarm answered.
“Yeah, thanks,” Roe said, trying to compose himself.
The stage lurched quite suddenly, almost spilling the Roe couple into the leg space between the seats. Looking awkward and embarrassed, they climbed back onto their rear-facing seats.
