Gilbert chortled, 'Hot damn! Are we going to bust him out at gunpoint, pard?'
Longarm said, 'Nope. I want you to stay here. Miss Norma and me are only going to feed him and take his temperature if the Coast Guard knows what's good for it.'
He strapped on his gun, put on his hat, and told Norma he was ready whenever she was.
The Junoesque bacteriologist led the way, but told him she hoped he wasn't serious about armed conflict with the U.S. Coast Guard, as they strode along the veranda of the long building. He said it wasn't for him to say. It was up to them whether they wanted to let him at his own confounded federal prisoner or not.
They got to the last door down, and Norma unlocked it with a key from an apron pocket. It was dark inside with the sun way down in the western sky. But there was enough tiger-stripe light coming in through the jalousie shutters for him to make out his McClellan at the foot of the bedstead where she'd draped it over the rail. The walnut stock of his Winchester '73 saddle gun stood somewhat higher. So he hauled it from its boot and told her, 'You'd best wait here a few minutes. If you don't hear shooting within ten, come on over to the brig. You'll know they let me in without a war.'
She got between him and the door, pleading, 'Please don't fight them, Custis. That horrid outlaw just isn't worth it. I'd tell you what he said to me the last time I tried to examine him, but you do seem mad enough already!'
He told her politely but firmly, 'I ain't looking for no fight. I already knew Clay Baldwin was a worthless skunk. They sent me to bring him and young Gilbert back. They never said they wanted either of 'em dead. So stand aside and give me ten, like I said, if you don't want me grabbing you by that swell tit again.'
It worked. She crawfished out of his way, blushing like a rose as she told him he was horrid. So he just strode on out, levering a round in the chamber of his Winchester as he crossed the parade with the weapon held at port.
They must have expected something like that at the guard post to the north. A chief petty officer and eight guardsmen wearing leggings, S.P. armbands, and Spencer repeaters seemed to be lined up between him and his intended goal.
Longarm stopped at easy pistol range to proclaim, 'I'd be U.S. Deputy Marshal Custis Long, and I understand you're holding my own sweet federal prisoner in that brig behind YOU.'
The C.P.O., who stood almost as tall and twice as wide as Longarm, replied in a politely firm tone, 'We are, and that's where he's to remain until Lieutenant Flynn says different.'
Longarm replied, just as firmly if not as politely, 'I don't aim to take him off with me without your C.O.'s official release in writing. I only want to make sure he leaves here alive, and I understand you as much as told his attending physician to go jump in the lagoon.'
The burly Coast Guard noncom chuckled wistfully and replied, 'I'd be proud to go swimming with a gal built so swell. But that ain't what we suggested. We only told her the lieutenant told us the prisoner's to have one jar of water and two slices of white bread per diem, and no visitors until further notice.'
Longarm said, 'Damn it. Nobody wants to visit with the son of a bitch. I want to question him and Doc Richards wants to take his damn temperature!'
The C.P.O. nodded. 'She already told us. We ain't trying to be mean to nobody, Deputy. It's just that we got orders and, well, orders are orders, see?'
Longarm said, 'I got my orders too. So would you kindly order your men out of my way and unlock the damned door before somebody gets hurt?'
The C.P.O. laughed incredulously. 'We heard they were sending a famous gunfighter of the civilian persuasion, Longarm. Do you really think you can get by my pistol and eight rifles with one saddle gun?'
Longarm shrugged modestly and said, 'I got this six-gun at my side as well, and this Winchester fires fifteen times before I have to reload it. So make your point.'
It got sort of quiet as the sun sank lower and a color guard came marching out across the parade behind Longarm's back. Then a distant female voice called out, 'Custis! Stop that! That steam cutter just tied up out at the end of the pier and Lieutenant Flynn will be ashore any minute!'
Longarm and the burly N.C.O. stared silently at one another for a time. Then the Coast Guardsman said, 'We ain't backing down. But this does seem a dumb time to settle it the noisy way.'
Longarm replied, 'Great minds seem to run in the same channels. So I reckon we'll never know who'd have won, unless your lieutenant is a really dedicated asshole.'
To which the C.P.O. replied with a surprisingly boyish laugh, 'Oh, I know who'd have won, and be it recorded it was your idea, not mine, to call Lieutenant Flynn an asshole.'
Some of the others were grinning in the sunset's red rays as behind him they started to lower the flag. So Longarm turned about on one heel to remove his hat and stand at attention with the cocked Winchester down to one side, sincerely hoping he might not have to gun any of those nice kids.
CHAPTER 11
Longarm had been braced for a seagoing version of a pompous army officer he'd knocked down one time. But Lieutenant Flynn, who'd have been a captain in the army, turned out to be a sandy-haired and politely poker-faced cuss with eyes the same shade of gray as two oysters on the half shell going stale.
When Norma Richards brought him over, Flynn said it was jake with him if they wanted to listen to Clay Baldwin cuss. As that C.P.O. opened up, the lieutenant said he'd have the mess attendants save his civilian guests some supper, and turned away to go eat his own.
Longarm forgave the Coast Guard a lot when he finally got in to Baldwin's solitary cell with Norma and a lamp. Clay Baldwin didn't look like an owlhoot rider wanted for murder and grand larceny. He looked like some actor made up for the part of the village idiot in his ill-fitting duds and half-sprouted beard. As they entered, Baldwin leered at Norma and asked her, 'Been getting any pronging of late, Chubby? If you ain't, I got eight inches I'd just love to have you skin for me with your tight little twat!'
Longarm snapped, 'Knock it off, Baldwin. I ain't gonna say that twice.'
