“Well,” Longarm said, “he became very defensive and, I thought, very vague.”
“Vague? I heard him tell you that he bought most of his collection from locals who needed money.”
“Sure, but I had the feeling that he didn’t want to mention any names. Perhaps while I am gone tomorrow, you could ask around about who is selling to the man.”
“Gone?” Miranda stopped cold in her tracks. “Where are you going without me?”
“I want to visit the person who alerted my department about the possibility of thefts,” Longarm answered. “She has a ranch a few miles east.”
“Fine,” Miranda said. “We can both ride out there.”
“I’d rather that you didn’t,” Longarm said. “And besides, it will be a long ride up to Mesa Verde and it might do you well to rest up for it.”
“I suppose that is true.”
Longarm took her arm and started back to the hotel. Later, he would go to the telegraph office and send a message to Billy Vail, asking him to check the references of Drs. Lucking and Barker with Harvard University. If they really were on the Harvard faculty, he could probably eliminate them from suspicion. Probably, but not completely. However, if Harvard replied that they had never heard of either man, then it was almost certain that they were impostors and involved in the gang that was looting Indian artifacts.
“I liked Mr. Laird,” Miranda said. “You may be suspicious of him, but I’m not. I think he was quite honest with us.”
“Maybe,” Longarm said. “Maybe.”
Chapter 12
The next morning Longarm had ridden less than a mile out of Cortez when he saw a young woman and two old cowboys coming into view. The woman was riding a spunky sorrel mare, while the two hands were seated in a rickety buckboard wagon. She had long blond hair and blue eyes, and hid her figure well with an old leather jacket that was about three sizes too large. Longarm wondered if he’d just gotten lucky.
“Miss Mason?” he asked when he drew up alongside the woman and her buckboard. “Miss Candice Mason?”
“That’s right,” she said, eyeing him suspiciously, “and who the hell are you?”
“I’m a friend,” Longarm said, not wanting to let the two older cowboys know that he was a lawman.
“No, you’re not. You’re a stranger and you are blocking the road. Get out of our way.” One of her cowboys reached for a buggy whip, but Longarm said, “All right, Miss Mason, I work for United States Marshal Billy Vail, who sent me here to see if I could help sort out your troubles. I was just coming out to see you.”
Candice studied him closely. “Have you got a badge or anything to prove what you say?”
“Sure,” Longarm said, reaching inside his coat pocket, “but I’m traveling as a tourist and I’d like to keep my real identity a secret.”
“We can do that,” the driver of the buckboard said. “No problem.”
“Good.” Longarm showed them all his badge. “Now, Miss Mason, I’d appreciate it if we could have a private conversation.”
“Anything you have to say to me you can say to my men,” Candice told him. “I trust them with my life.”
“All right. I take it that you are going into Cortez, probably for supplies?”
“That’s correct.”
“Then I’ll ride along with you,” Longarm decided. “We have plenty to talk about.”
“Fine,” Candice told him. “I just wish that Billy would have sent two or three lawmen instead of one.”
“If I need help,” Longarm told her, “I can always send for reinforcements.”
“It took you a damn long time to get here,” Candice argued, “so what makes you think that reinforcements could save your bacon if you get in a fix?”
“Let that be my worry,” Longarm replied as he reined in next to the woman. “Why don’t you tell me everything that you know about this gang of grave robbers.”
Candice was quiet for a moment as she composed her thoughts. In the meantime, Longarm couldn’t help but stare because she really was a beautiful woman, although there was a hardness in her he found disturbing. Maybe it came from losing both her mother and father and from the heavy ranching responsibilities she had inherited. But whatever the reason, it was definitely present. “Lawman, what’s your name?”
“Custis.”
“Well, Custis,” Candice began, “what we have going on in this part of the state is a sophisticated bunch of grave robbers. We’re not dealing with just a couple of fellas with picks and shovels out to make a few extra bucks. No, sir! We have thievery on a grand scale.”
“I’ve been asking a lot of questions since I left Denver,” Longarm said, “and I know about those scientists up at Mesa Verde. Do you believe they are part of the gang?”
“Sure! They’re the ones that are doing the actual looting under the guise of science. But they aren’t real archaeologists.”
“How do you know that?”
“I just know,” Candice said. “And I’ve spied on them enough to learn that they are sending most of their stolen artifacts back to Durango on the pack animals that drop off their supplies.”
“Do those pack animals belong to an outfit called Mountain Packers?”
