Lucy quickly paid for a few items and they left to walk down the street. When no one could overhear them, Longarm quickly told Lucy about the death of Hal Brodie, Manuel Padilla, and Renaldo Lopez.
'Only Juan Ortega escaped, and I expect I'll find him in Prescott.'
'Yes,' Lucy agreed. 'And I'm coming with you.'
'That wouldn't be a good idea,' Longarm said, telling her about the ten Yuma Prison female inmates. 'I will have to stay with their prison wagon.'
'Then I'll go ahead of you.'
'No.'
'Custis, my home is in Prescott! You can't order me not to return.'
'Just... just stay here out of harm's way until I arrest or kill Ortega. You can return after that.'
Lucy didn't look pleased, but Longarm knew that he was doing the right thing. 'It will only be a few days at most,' he added. 'But to be on the safe side, give it a week.'
'I'll give it five days,' she decided. 'And what about Maria Escobar? Can she return to Prescott?'
'Check with Judge Benton,' Longarm said. 'But I don't see any reason why she couldn't return with you. Especially since Juan Ortega is the only man who would have any reason for seeing her dead.'
'All right,' Lucy agreed. 'Five days.'
'You got any money?' Longarm asked. 'I'm low on funds.'
'Of course, and I'll buy you supper, after we have a little time together in my hotel room.'
'Shameful woman,' Longarm said, slipping his arm around Lucy's waist.
She pushed it away and said, 'Later.'
Longarm grinned because he knew that they would probably be in Lucy's bed within fifteen minutes.
The next morning, Longarm awoke to a knock on Lucy's door. He reached for his six-gun and said, 'Who is it?'
'Deputy Jasper Hawkins, Marshal. We got the prison wagon and the wimmen down in the street and we're ready to roll. How come you ain't ready and waitin'?'
Longarm looked at his pocket watch lying on his bedside table. He was amazed to see that it was ten o'clock. 'Be right down!' he called, rolling out of bed and splashing cold water in his face.
Lucy groaned but did not awaken. They had made love off and on most of the night, and she was probably as exhausted as he was. Longarm decided to let her sleep.
'So long, darlin'. I figure that the next time I see you when I pass through Prescott, you'll be the town's leading lady. Probably have a new husband to take care of your ranch. Maybe have a couple of kids and a good life. At least, I hope that's the way of it.'
Longarm felt a little shaky from his recent illness and his long night of lovemaking as he quickly dressed and then packed his bags. But the shakes disappeared when he saw the ten hard-faced women prisoners staring at him through the prison wagon's bars.
Two of them, both big and buxom, whistled derisively when he emerged, and Longarm felt his cheeks warm despite the coolness of the morning.
'Marshal,' an older deputy with a hefty paunch and tired brown eyes said, coming forward to extend his hand, 'I'm Deputy Prison Supervisor Amos Putterman. I'm in charge of the prisoners, and I guess you've already met my assistant, Deputy Hawkins.'
'Yeah,' Longarm said.
Putterman made a big show of dragging out his cheap pocket watch, consulting it with a frown, and saying, 'We expected to get an early start this morning.'
'Well,' Longarm said, 'sometimes things don't always work according to our set schedules.'
Putterman didn't like that remark, but Longarm did not care. He climbed up onto the roof of the prison wagon and spread out his bedroll so that he could nap through the morning. The women below began to hoot and shout and bang the ceiling of their wagon, but Longarm was unfazed.
'Let's roll,' he said.
The two prison employees climbed up, and Hawkins took the lines while Putterman collected a ten-gauge shotgun, which he cradled across his chubby legs. Just before the wagon lurched forward, Putterman turned and said, 'How come we got to pass through Prescott? That's miles out of our way.'
'I know,' Longarm said. 'But I've got business there.'
'Your business,' Putterman said, 'ought to be helping us deliver these noisy bitches to Colorado!'
Longarm took an immediate dislike to Putterman. 'They may not be ladies,' he said with steel in his voice, 'but if I hear you refer to them as bitches or anything other than women, I'll knock your teeth down your throat so far you'll have bite marks on your ass.'
Putterman's jaw dropped and he gripped the shotgun so hard his knuckles went white. But he seemed to know better than to say anything, because he turned around and sat in stiff silence.
Longarm stretched out on the top of the prison wagon and his bedroll and watched the clouds scud across the deep indigo sky. It was going to be a fine day, he reminded himself. A fine day followed by a fine week, and they would have a peach of a time on this trip back home to Denver.
'Liar,' he muttered to himself.
