“That don’t make no difference,” Martin said. “That man is a Comanche Indian. Ain’t you never noticed him around? Why, he is sly as a fox—that man can outrun a deer. That man is a Comanche brave. Why, that man and I have had some good talks. A lot of folks thinks he’s a little slow, but that ain’t so. It’s just that he don’t speak the lingo as much as you might want him to. He keeps pretty much to himself and he keeps his thinking to himself. He don’t like them blue bellies any better than I do and you can imagine why. I figure them yellow legs killed his folks and the Castles drug him off with them.”
Longarm gazed at the man in disbelief. He said, “He’s blue-eyed. He’s got light-colored hair. He’s light- complected.”
Martin spit tobacco juice in the dust. “Don’t make no never mind. You’ve got your different kinds of Injuns. It’s what’s inside a man that makes him an Injun. Virgil—and that ain’t his real name by the way, his real name is Running Wolf.”
“Did he tell you that?”
Martin spit again. “Didn’t need to. I knowed it the minute I talked to him. I said, I reckon your name is Running Wolf, ain’t it?”
“And he said yes?”
“He ain’t never said no and he’ll damn sure answer to it when you call him that. Naw, naw, don’t be confusing him with them damn Castles. He’s a good man.”
“I see,” Longarm said uneasily. “Well, I guess I had better be getting on back to town, Mr. Martin. Maybe you and I could talk again sometime.”
Clell Martin walked out to his horse with him. As Longarm put his foot into his stirrup and mounted, Martin said, “Well, I don’t know what is comin’ to this country, but I tell you, I’m about ready to see a better class of people comin’ around. If we don’t get rid of that bunch doing what they call Reconstruction, this country ain’t ever going to do right by itself.”
Longarm looked down at the man and nodded his head. He turned his horse and rode thoughtfully down the road that would take him back into town and to the jail.
He almost didn’t go to the jail when he got into town. He was tired and disgusted and wanted a drink and some time to himself. He also didn’t want to listen to any more of Mr. Vernon Castle’s outraged protests or to be called a sonofabitch twenty or thirty times more. But in the end, the prospect of informing Mr. Vernon Castle that, yes indeed, his son Virgil Castle did like bunny rabbits, especially skinned bunny rabbits, proved too strong a lure to pass up.
He turned his horse in at the hotel stable and then walked across to Sheriff Smith’s office. His spurs jingled as he stepped up on the boardwalk. He turned the knob and then swung the door open wide and stopped in amazement at what he saw. There was Vernon Castle and his two sons and the sheriff and Clarence Botts, all in the outer office. The sheriff was busy getting the gunbelts of the two younger men.
Longarm said, “What the hell is going on here?”
They all glanced up, surprise on their faces.
It was Mr. Botts who did the answering. He came toward Longarm waving a piece of paper in his hand. He said, “Just take a look at this, Deputy Marshal Long. You’ll see this is an authentic notice from the federal judge in San Antonio vacating your bench warrant for the arrest of my clients. It is a habeas corpus notification, and you are hereby ordered by Judge Fisher in San Antonio to release my clients.”
Longarm took the paper and studied it for a moment. It was a handwritten document on plain stationery bearing no stamp or any official heading. He looked up at Botts. “This doesn’t look authentic to me,” he said. “In fact, this looks like something you might have written yourself in the hotel.”
Botts swelled himself up, which was difficult for a man of his small statue. “By God, sir,” he said. “That document was handwritten by Judge Fisher and signed by his own hand. I found the man at his home at night. There were no official papers to be had, and I was in a hurry to catch a train to return here so that I could relieve my clients of this durance vile that you have subjected them to.”
Longarm read the document quickly. The wording sounded official, and he knew that there was a Judge Fisher in San Antonio who was a federal judge, but he was not inclined to release the Castles and he was going to grasp at any reason he could find. He shook his head. “Makes no difference. This is not an official document as far as I’m concerned. So, gentlemen, you can just head right on back into those cells.”
Vernon Castle had been standing by the sheriff’s desk. He stepped out sideways. He said, “Marshal, you can go to hell, you sonofabitch. That release was duly and authentically obtained and you, by God, will abide by its authenticity. What document did you have? You had a telegram. This, at least, is in the judge’s own handwriting.”
Longarm said, “Well, I don’t know about that, Mr. Castle. I’m afraid I’ll be forced to put ya’ll back in those cells until I can get this verified.”
Vernon Castle said with some heat, “Like hell you will.”
Longarm’s eyes suddenly shifted to Glenn and his brother Billy Bob. They had their hands dangerously close to the gunbelts that were lying on the sheriff’s desk. He said, “You two, back up there. Back up right now. Either one of you reaches his hands toward one of those guns and I’m gonna put a hole in you. You understand?”
Sheriff Smith said, “Now, damnit, Long. I’ve had about enough of you. You get the hell out of my jail and stay out. These men have been released and I’m going to release them. I consider that bench warrant vacated by the paper that Lawyer Botts has brought from San Antonio. That’s good enough for me and it’s going to be damn well good enough for you.”
Longarm said, “Fine then. I am now officially charging you, Vernon Castle, and you, Glenn Castle, and you, Billy Bob Castle with conspiracy in the murder of five United States Cavalry soldiers from Fort Concho. So turn around and march back in to those cells.”
The sheriff came around his desk and stood between the Castles and Longarm. “Not by a damn sight, you’re not,” he said. “Murder is a local matter, and you damn well won’t be throwing your federal weight around in here on that. I can assure you of that, Marshal.”
Longarm said, “Well, that might be so, Sheriff Smith. However, in this case, the murdered parties were federal soldiers, and that makes it a federal case and my jurisdiction overrides you. Now get the hell out of the way
