his gunbelt off, withdrew his revolver, and snuggled it up under his saddle. For anyone to get at his weapons they would have to disturb him. There were the other weapons, still together with the rest of Shaw’s stuff, but they were all unloaded and the ammunition hidden in Shaw’s saddlebags. Longarm would have hidden them in his own, but his bags were full. It didn’t make much difference. If Shaw somehow got loose while Longarm was sleeping, the outlaw could brain him with a length of cordwood. He could then arm himself at leisure.
Longarm shucked off his canvas jacket and threw it over his bed against the wall. Finally, now feeling the cold, he loosened his belt, took his hat off, and slipped down between his blankets. He’d placed a bottle of whiskey to hand, and he had a good pull off of that before he got all the way laid out with just part of his head resting on his saddle. It felt good to be stretched out and warm. It felt good after all the hard, anxious going to know that the chase was finally coming to an end. If they rode hard they should be in New Mexico Territory by the next evening. Whether or not they’d be close enough to a town big enough for him to surrender Shaw in, Longarm couldn’t say. He’d need to look at a map or ask someone.
He was not ordinarily a man who had much trouble going to sleep, but this night his mind wouldn’t settle down. He knew he’d played the Rangers false by not leaving them any kind of sign, but he’d told Shaw if he’d surrender he’d take him to New Mexico. With the conditions as they were and the position he was in, he didn’t see where he had had any choice. He hadn’t known for certain when the Rangers were coming, and he sure as hell hadn’t known how long he could hold out. So he’d made the best deal he could, and part of that deal had been to keep his word about taking Shaw to New Mexico Territory. And he couldn’t have done that if he’d left the Rangers clear sign. It was, he reckoned, a kind of moral and legal standoff.
With that straight in his mind, he shut his eyes and began to relax. In a few moments he was deeply asleep.
Chapter 8
Longarm came awake to the sound of his name being called from someplace near and the light tapping of something hard against his forehead. He opened his eyes slowly, but moved no other part of him.
When he could focus, he saw Jack Shaw squatting on the cabin floor right at his head with a revolver in his hand. He took care to note that the pistol was cocked but Shaw didn’t have his finger resting on the trigger.
Shaw said, “You better get up, Longarm. My bells, but you can sleep. Somebody is gonna slip up on you in the night and do you a harm you keep on sleeping that deep. Sleeping like a dead man, and for a damn good reason.”
Longarm said, still not moving, “You want me to sit up or just prezactly what?”
Shaw stood up and moved back, keeping the muzzle of the pistol covering Longarm. He said, “Yeah, sit up and sling the blankets back.”
Longarm did so, being careful to make his movements slow and deliberate. Right then he had a lot of questions, but he didn’t reckon it was the time to ask them. He could see that the inside of the cabin was bright. At first, when he’d opened his eyes, he’d thought it was because dawn had come. But he could see now that Shaw had built up a pretty good fire in the cabin.
Longarm could see through the front door that it was almost black dark outside, which meant that the moon was down and dawn wasn’t far off.
He glanced toward the fireplace. He could see that the coffeepot had been used and was sitting back from the fire a little. It looked as if it had been placed to keep the contents hot, but not to boil over. He said, “What now?”
Shaw chuckled. “You seem to understand this business pretty well, Custis. What do you reckon is the next step?”
Longarm thought, probably walk me out in the dark and put a bullet in my head. But he didn’t voice the thought or give Shaw any other ideas.
He said, “I don’t know. It’s dealer’s choice and you got the cards.”
He was studying the revolver in Shaw’s hand. It wasn’t one of his. It had ivory grips. He’d never cared for a gun with white on it. Unhandy in the dark. It might not give you away, but why take the chance.
That meant that, maybe, Shaw hadn’t found his gun under the saddle.
Shaw said, “I’m going to let you take my place on the front porch. Unfortunately, I done took my blankets up so you’ll be sitting in the dust.”
Now he could see that Shaw had the set of manacles in his left hand.
They’d been dangling down by his leg, out of sight. He could see that both jaws were open. He didn’t know how, but Shaw had somehow managed to open the cuffs. Maybe Longarm had been careless in checking and Shaw hadn’t really closed the cuffs around his wrists. But no, if he’d simply left them too loose so he could slip his hands out, then the jaws wouldn’t be open. No, they had been unlocked. But how or by who, Longarm couldn’t understand.
“You mind if I put my boots on?”
Shaw laughed. “I reckon we’ll hold up on the boots for a bit. You seem to know a good deal about boots and pistols. I wouldn’t be surprised if you had one in your boot. I’ll check them when I get you settled down and pitch them to you if they are all right. Move on out there now. It’ll be cold at first, but dawn ain’t far off. I got to get moving. So I would appreciate it if you would move along pretty fast. I seen you eyeing that coffee and I’ll fetch you some. Yeah, I’ve had time to make coffee and build a fire. Like I say, Longarm, I’m surprised you’re alive the way you sleep.” Longarm said grimly, “Me too.”
He walked carefully out into the cold dark and stopped at the eastern porch post. A rectangle of light was cast out the front door onto the dirt of the porch floor. The right-hand corner of it illuminated the post. Longarm stopped and looked back at Shaw. “What next?”
“Either sit down or get down on yore knees. You are gonna cuff yourself to that post. You ought to be familiar with how that works.”
Longarm sat down. He could feel the short hairs at the back of his neck bristling. Shaw was a killer, a man who would put a bullet in your brain on a whim. If Longarm was going to get shot, he’d rather not have it from the back with his hands manacled. He looked around at the outlaw. “Jack,” he said, “if you’re a mind to shoot me, I’d druther take it in the chest standing up.”
