'Aw, she keeps a few cats and dogs inside.'
This fact was vociferously confirmed a moment after Longarm knocked. All the dogs and cats set up a deafening chorus.
'I'm not sure about this,' Veronica said with growing apprehension.
'You don't even notice the noise or smell after a few hours,' Longarm assured her. 'And Betsy sure could use some help feeding and cleaning up after them.'
'Custis!'
Veronica would have turned and bolted away, except that Longarm grabbed and held her until Betsy opened her door.
'Custis!'
'Betsy, darlin',' he said, stepping up to give the sweet old gal a big hug and kiss on the cheek.
'And who is this lovely child?'
'Miss Veronica Greenwald, and she needs a little help right now, Betsy. Do you think she could stay until she finds a teaching job?'
Betsy was now in her sixties, but her skin was creamy smooth and her eyes were bright and trusting. 'Why, of course! I'm sure that she'll love the children.'
As they walked into the parlor, Betsy's 'children' swarmed all around them. Big dogs. Little dogs. Pretty dogs. But mainly mangy dogs. Barking and yapping, with the cats in the background meowing. It was a real menagerie, and the odor of cat and dog droppings was almost overpowering.
'Of course she'll love your children, Betsy!' Longarm exclaimed, feeling light-headed in the closed room. 'Why, Veronica was just telling me as we walked over here how much she loved animals.'
'What a kind soul!' Betsy looked at Veronica. 'What a dear heart you are. We shall become very good friends.'
'I'm sure,' Veronica said as a big, black dog began to lick her ankles, causing her to jump about like a car pet flea.
'Well, I have to run,' Longarm hollered over the noise. 'But I'll be back before you know it.'
'Custis!'
Longarm could not bear to see Veronica's desperate expression, so he whirled and ran. He told himself that at least Veronica would be safe with Betsy Appleton, and might even be able to establish some control over the animals and housebreak them.
In any event, Veronica would have plenty of Betsy's 'children' to teach.
CHAPTER 15
Longarm found Marshal Bill Denton's office, and checked to make sure that his gun was resting easy in its holster before he entered.
Denton wasn't in sight, but there was a young deputy on duty, and when he saw Longarm stroll through the door he paled.
'Hello there, young fella!' Longarm flashed his badge. 'Deputy Marshal Custis Long from the Denver office. And what would your name be?'
The deputy, who had been reclining in an office chair, jumped to his feet, hand moving toward his six-gun.
'Whoa!' Longarm called, his own gun flashing up to draw a bead on the man. 'Now what the hell is the matter with you? Haven't we got enough trouble with train robbers without trying to shoot each other?'
The deputy gulped. He was a tall, gangly fella with peach fuzz on his pimpled cheeks and a protruding Adam's apple that was bobbing up and down with fear.
'Yes, sir!'
'Well, then, sit back down and let's get acquainted,' Longarm said, returning his six-gun to its holster and resting his Winchester against a wall. 'Where is Marshal Denton?'
'He's in the hospital, Mr. Long! You beat the shit out of him and when he fell off that loading dock, he screwed up his back.'
'Damn,' Longarm said, 'I am genuinely sorry about that. I hope he isn't froze up or anything.'
'No, he's not froze but he's in some pain. Doctor says you also broke his nose and cracked his jaw. He's going to be out of commission for a couple of months.'
'Damn,' Longarm repeated. 'I didn't realize that he'd taken that fight so hard.'
'What fight? From what I hear, he never got in a punch. And believe me, no one has ever whipped Marshal Denton in a fair fight.'
'There isn't such a thing as a 'fair fight,' ' Longarm said. 'I'll bet you that Marshal Denton has pistol-whipped plenty of men or dropped them with a single punch.'
'Yeah, sure! But he's the marshal!'
'He was in serious need of a lesson in manners,' Longarm said. 'You see, we're all in this together. And unless a man who wears the badge proves himself incompetent or corrupt, there's an unspoken rule that we treat each other with courtesy and respect. Your marshal broke that rule, and when he laid his hand on me, I had little choice but to teach him a hard, hard lesson.'
'Well, he's going to kill you when he can get up and walk.'
