Friedlander, he said, 'All right, let's get the damn bullet out.'
'Roll over on your stomach.'
Fergus rolled over and pushed himself up on his elbows so that he could pour whiskey down his gullet. When he finished the bottle, he dropped it on the floor. It rolled up against the wall and Fergus hissed, 'Let's go!'
Longarm watched closely as Ida took a scalpel from her husband. She made a quick, deep incision that lifted Fergus howling off the table. Then he gripped the edge of the table and ground his teeth.
Ida Friedlander proved herself to be a skilled surgeon. She was into the wound in seconds, and her husband kept feeding her forceps to clamp off the worst bleeding. She quickly dug Longarm's misshapen bullet out, and packed the wound with disinfectant powder before suturing the incision.
The entire operation took less than twenty minutes. When it was over, Ida heaved an obvious sigh of relief and said, 'Mr. Fergus, how are you?'
'I've been better,' he whispered. 'Help me sit up.'
'It would be good for you to keep lying down.'
'I want to sit up, damn you!'
Longarm stepped forward. He grabbed Fergus by the hair and yanked his head off the table. 'Don't you dare talk like that to a woman who probably saved your life!'
'It's all right,' Ida said. 'Please let him go.'
Longarm released the man's hair. Fergus's jaw bounced on the table, and then the man pushed himself into a sitting position.
For a moment, all eyes were on Longarm, who was clearly struggling with his anger. And in that moment, Fergus happened to glance down and see the bloody surgical instruments. Without warning, his right hand grabbed the scalpel and his left hand fisted Ida's hair.
Before Longarm could move, the scalpel was pressed to Ida's throat. Luke made a tortured sound in his throat. He took a step forward and cried, 'Please don't kill her!'
Fergus was woozy from blood loss and whiskey. He licked his lips and his eyes radiated hatred as he stared at Longarm. 'You pull that big gun of yours and try to shoot me again,' he choked, 'and this lady is a dead Samaritan! You understand me?'
'I understand you perfectly.'
Fergus giggled. 'No surgeon in the world is fast enough to keep this woman from bleeding to death once I cut her throat from ear to ear.'
'You'd do that after what Mrs. Friedlander did to save your worthless life?'
'Deputy, I'll kill her in a heartbeat if that's what it takes! Now, with your left hand, ease that gun out of your holster.'
Longarm was still shaking; only it was no longer from the cold--it was with fury. He knew without a doubt that once Fergus had his gun, the man would shoot him and the rest of them to death. Handing Fergus a loaded six-gun was not even a remote consideration.
'You should think this out again,' Longarm warned. 'It's the whiskey that's made you crazy.'
'Oh, no!' Fergus cried. 'It's the fact that I was at Laramie Summit and so was Ned Rowe. You'd have gotten someone to squeal and say that sooner or later, and I'd have been sentenced to hang. That's why I'm getting out of here now!'
Fergus motioned to the large sliding door. 'Tell the clerk to open it wide.'
'Open it,' Longarm said, not daring to move.
The clerk rushed over to the door, threw the latch, and pushed the door open. All the heat that had been generated by the fire was lost as cold air blasted into the mail car. Mail still unsorted and resting in trays took flight in a blizzard of paper that swirled in the air. Outside, the rain was still falling and the higher sage-covered hills were dusted with a blanket of glistening snow.
'Give me your gun,' Fergus repeated. 'Hand it over now!'
'And then what?'
Fergus actually giggled. 'Then you're going to jump off the train. If you're lucky, you'll live. If not, well, no one lives forever.'
'And the others?'
'I'll lock them in this room and they won't be harmed.'
'Don't believe him!' Luke cried. 'In my heart I now understand that this man is a killer! He is possessed by Satan!'
Longarm pretended to disagree. 'He'll keep his word because there is no reason to kill you folks.'
'But a man possessed by the Devil needs no reason!'
'Shut up!' Fergus cried. 'Old man, you shut up or I'll slit your woman's throat!'
A trickle of blood seeped down Ida's throat and stained her collar. But Ida Friedlander was a marvel of control. She didn't even whimper.
'For the last time, give me your gun!' Fergus shrieked.
Longarm slowly extracted his gun and laid it on the table. His mind was spinning like the wheels of a slot machine, but there was no hope of a payoff.
