“I’ll take the shorter one,” Miranda said when she arrived, already wearing her riding habit. Just then, a small Mexican burro came trotting out of the barn, braying piteously.
“Oh, how cute!” Miranda cried, hurrying over to throw her arms around the burro’s neck.
“He’s going to be mighty heartbroken when you take his best friends away,” the liveryman lamented, appearing just as upset as the noisy burro. “I told your husband that I’d rent him to you for nearly nothing, but he said he didn’t think that you’d need him.”
“Why, sure we do!” Miranda cried, scratching the burro’s long ears so that it stopped braying and sighed with contentment. “How are we supposed to get all our baggage down to Cortez without a cute little pack animal?”
“Maybe I should have rented a buckboard,” Longarm growled.
“Naw,” the liveryman said. “I’ll let you have this little fella and a packsaddle, lead rope, and halter for only another fifty cents a day! Now, you won’t get that kind of a price in Cortez. No, sir, those guides and such that take you up to the cliff dwellings and other ruins will gouge your eyes out for an extra nickel.”
“We’ll take him,” Longarm said.
“That will be another three dollars and fifty cents for a week in advance,” the man told him with a triumphant grin.
Longarm paid the fellow thinking that if he didn’t stop spending cash, he would have to wire Billy for more right away. But that was all right too. This Anasazi problem had a very high priority in Denver, and Longarm figured that he could have all the time and expense money that he needed to get it solved.
Besides, the burro was sort of cute, and it was clearly attached to the two bay geldings he’d just rented. No sense in causing any more grief in this world than was necessary.
“How far is Cortez exactly?” Longarm asked the man.
“Just a little over thirty miles. You’re not getting a very early start, and so I expect that you’ll want to lay over tonight at the little town of Mancos. It’s about halfway. Got a nice hotel and cafe there. Good people that will treat you right. Just tell them that Jason McFarland sent you along.”
“I’ll do that,” Longarm said.
Fifteen minutes and a lightly loaded burro later, they rode out of town headed for Mancos. It was a fine day, and Longarm was glad to be back on the road, although he was a little worried about Trent Roe. As ornery as Marshal Palladin was, it crossed Longarm’s mind that he might even decide to take out his anger on Trent for no better reason than he was Longarm’s friend. I should have warned him about not doing that, Longarm thought as he led the way west.
Chapter 9
The little ranching and mining town of Mancos proved itself hospitable enough, and they got an early start for Cortez the next day. The southern Colorado mountain country was quite beautiful, and when they rode down into the high desert country that surrounded Cortez, Longarm was surprised to see how much it had grown since he’d passed through a few years earlier.
“This is mostly a ranching town, although there is some mining activity,” Longarm explained. “And you can see that there are several outfits that take tour groups up to the cliff dwellings.”
“I can hardly wait to see them,” Miranda said. “Why don’t we talk to a few of these tour groups after we board the horses and get a hotel room.”
“I’ll probably be needing a day or two before we leave to investigate,” Longarm told her. “After all, I really don’t expect to catch the Anasazi grave robbers in the act.”
“Custis, you might get lucky and do exactly that.” But Longarm didn’t think so. If the gang had any common sense at all, they would be excavating during the off-season when there was very little likelihood of discovery. This country could get very cold in the winter, and deep snows were not uncommon. Longarm was quite sure that if you were caught up on Mesa Verde unprepared, you could freeze to death.
“Let’s take care of these horses and just see how it goes,” Longarm said. “That livery over there looks good to me.”
The OK Livery was just about what you would expect in a town as small as Cortez. It had one large and drafty barn with private stalls inside and a tack room as well as a loft crammed with fresh summer hay. Outside were two or three corrals and several dozen wagons in various states of decay and disrepair. There was also a blacksmith’s forge and anvil, which told Longarm that the liveryman was also a farrier.
“Howdy,” a short and powerful man about Longarm’s age called as he came to greet them. He was wearing a red flannel shirt and smoking a corncob pipe. “You be needing to put your horses and that ugly little burro up for a while?”
“He’s not ugly,” Miranda argued.
“Sorry, ma’am! Didn’t mean for you to take it personal. Why, you’re right! He is an uncommonly handsome little critter, given the state of his race.”
Longarm quickly came to terms about the price of boarding. After helping to unsaddle and then unload their supplies and belongings, he said, “What hotel would you recommend for me and my wife?”
“There ain’t but two, and one of them isn’t fit for a lady,” the liveryman said. “So that just leaves you with the Concord Hotel. It ain’t nothin’ to brag about, but it serves all the tourists and the food is pretty good. It’s run by a spunky old widow woman named Mrs. McAllister. Yes, sir! Jenny McAllister is a real corker!”
“What does that mean?” Longarm asked.
“It means that if she likes you, you couldn’t ask for a better friend. But if she takes a dislike to you, then you’d be safer sleeping in a den full of rattlesnakes. The woman has quite a colorful past, which, I might add, she will almost certainly want to tell you about.”
“I see,” Longarm replied, knowing the type. “Well, we’re planning on going up to Mesa Verde soon. And we’d like to buy some Anasazi artifacts.”
