Longarm nodded. He wasn't sure that he believed Jimmie, but the man's suspicions sure needed investigating. And being forewarned about Laramie's new sheriff was something that Longarm appreciated. As a federal officer, he often had to work in cooperation with the local authorities. Sometimes it worked, often it did not. Sheriffs and town marshals had a tendency to be pretty closed-mouthed, and they often did not appreciate having a federal officer who might show them up as incompetent working in their jurisdiction.
'Keep an eye out and feed my horse well,' Longarm said, untying his saddlebags.
'You can count on Jimmie,' the blacksmith said cheerfully. 'I got the best eyes in Laramie when it comes to a horse's feet.'
Longarm believed the man, and he had a hunch that if the horse he sought were anywhere in Laramie, Jimmie would find it first.
CHAPTER 6
'Sheriff Cotton?'
'At your service,' the chubby man with a shiny star and boots to match said as he eased out of his desk chair. 'But most people call me Ike.'
'I'm Deputy U.S. Marshal Custis Long. I'm a federal officer working out of the Denver office.'
Ike Cotton's smile dimmed a little. He sucked in his gut and puffed out his chest. 'Take a load off your feet, Deputy. You been in Laramie long?'
'No. I just rode in. But I was on the train that was derailed a few days ago and sent down the mountainside just beyond the summit.'
'I heard all about that,' Cotton said. 'Of course, I couldn't go up there and investigate. My own deputy quit-- you aren't lookin' for a job, are you?'
'No.'
Cotton settled into his overstuffed desk chair. He was of average height, smooth-faced, and flabby. His hands were delicate, and his thin blond hair was slicked against his scalp while his mustache was waxed at the tips. With the benefit of money, Sheriff Cotton would have been a dandy.
'Well,' Cotton blustered, 'that's too bad. I could use an experienced deputy. One that knows that there is more to being a lawman than just sitting behind a desk with your feet up in the air.'
'I'm sure you could,' Longarm said drily.
'So,' Cotton said, buffing his badge with the cuff of his sleeve. 'What exactly can I do for you?'
'As you might imagine,' Longarm began, 'I'm looking for the men who derailed and robbed that Union Pacific passenger train. I have reason to believe that Eli Wheat--a prisoner I was transporting back to Denver--was a member of that gang and escaped with them.'
'Hmmm. Interesting. Unfortunately, I've never met this Wheat fella, but if you want to give me his description, I'll sure enough keep a sharp eye peeled for him.'
Longarm was not impressed. 'It's damned unlikely that Wheat would ride into Laramie. He was pretty well known and would be easily recognized by too many people. What I am looking for is anyone who has caught your eye as being a stranger and having a lot of money.'
'Well,' Cotton said, placing his boots up on his desk and lacing his fingers behind his head, 'as you know, this is a railroad town. We get a lot of folks passing through and some of them do have a considerable amount of money.'
Cotton chuckled, then winked conspiratorially. 'Money that our local gambling halls and painted ladies take great pains to extract and invest in our local economy. If you know what I mean.'
'I know what you mean,' Longarm replied, deciding that this man was a complete fool. 'Did you see any strangers enter Laramie in the last day or two on horseback?'
Cotton dropped his folksy facade and put his boots on the floor. 'Now listen here, Deputy. Laramie is a damn busy town and I'm a busy man. There are no less than fifty big ranches within a hard day's ride, and all of them are constantly sending cowboys in to raise hell or to buy supplies. I couldn't begin to keep my eye on the comings or goings of all them cowboys and line riders.'
'The men I seek,' Longarm said, thinking that Jimmie Jeter's assessment of this incompetent sheriff had been right on the money, 'would have been riding hard-used horses and wouldn't have necessarily had the look of cowboys.'
'If they were on horseback, then how would a man know if they were cowboys or not?'
Longarm gave up. It was clear to him that further conversation with Sheriff Ike Cotton would be a complete waste of time. 'Well,' he said, coming to his feet, 'that's a real good question.'
Slightly mollified by this response, Cotton relaxed. 'How can I help you, Deputy? I don't like other lawmen nosin' around in my town, but we are in the same line of work and we have to help each other.'
'That's the way I see it.'
'So what do you know?' Cotton asked point-blank.
'Not a damn thing,' Longarm said. 'I followed the outlaws to Laramie and-'
Cotton's double chins sagged. 'They rode into my town?'
'Yes.'
'How many?' Cotton exclaimed, almost falling out of his desk chair.
'I couldn't exactly say.' Longarm frowned. 'Somewhere between six and a dozen would be my guess.'
'I'd have noticed them if they came here.'
