“I was in Globe when ya’ll done the deed.”
He could almost see Shaw shaking his head back and forth. “Well, that was a bad piece of luck. If I’d known you was that handy I’d of give the whole thing up. But how’d you know about the holdup? We was forty miles from Globe.”
Longarm smiled to himself. He knew what he was about to say would irritate the hell out of Jack Shaw. “Conductor got up one of them telegraph poles and hooked in and sent a message. I got it within an hour.”
There was a momentary silence, and then Jack Shaw’s voice came back, stunned and indignant. “You tellin’ me the damn telegraph line wasn’t cut!”
Longarm chuckled quietly to himself. He too had been surprised, especially when he had discovered that Jack Shaw was the leader.
“Shore as hell wasn’t, Jack. That’s how come I’m here.”
Shaw started cursing. Longarm estimated that he went on for a full two or three minutes without repeating himself. Longarm considered it a pretty fair exhibition of offhand swearing with no preparation.
Finally Shaw ran down. He said, “That damn Hank Jelkco got off way too light. That was his job, his job especially. Instead he got mixed up in that bunch that was robbing the passengers of nickels and dimes and jewelry. Kissin’ women and such. Well, I’ll be a sad sonofabitch!”
Shaw was quiet for a moment. Finally he said, “Lord, I wish I had him to kill all over again. I damn well guarantee you I wouldn’t strangle him in his sleep. No, sir. I’d roast the sonofabitch over a slow fire. Damn! Damn, damn, damn!” Longarm said, “Well, Jack, I know how you must feel, but it was your job. You go to leaving them important details to somebody else and you see what can happen.”
“When you’re right you’re right, Longarm. I guess I ought to be kicking myself. Hell, I normally wouldn’t even let an idiot like Hank Jelkco steal a horse with me, but after Greaser Bob he was about the smartest hand I had.”
Longarm whistled. “You was just about out of help.”
“Longarm, you wouldn’t believe the sad quality of folks you can find in this line of work. Did you notice that kid that was laying near Greaser Bob?”
“Yeah, but I didn’t recognize him.”
“He was a farm boy from Oklahoma. Never done nothing like this before in his life. The only thing he’d ever held up was his hand in school to get permission to go outside and take a piss. That’ll give you some idea of what things have come to.”
Longarm frowned. “That don’t sound right, Jack. There’s plenty of good guns along the border.”
Shaw laughed. “Oh, the border. Hell, yes, the border. But do you reckon I’m going to be going down there and hanging round recruiting a bunch of folks? Hell, Longarm, don’t talk like you got a cornbread ass and a watermelon mouth.”
Longarm nodded as if Shaw could see him. “Yeah, I reckon you’re right. You are a little too well known down in those parts to be spending much time.”
“See, it’s all right for you. You play a lone hand. You ain’t got nobody to fault or praise but yourself. And don’t think I don’t envy you that. If I could get away with it, that’s exactly the way I’d operate.”
Longarm chuckled softly. “Well, I don’t know, Jack. Right now I wouldn’t mind having a few extra hands placed round that shack of yours. I figure we could make it pretty warm for you.”
“I can’t get over you riding up here like that. I nearly couldn’t believe my eyes when I had you in my sights.”
“What would you have had me do, Jack? Camp out there a half mile off and wait? What if this cabin had been empty. I’d of looked like a damn fool. I’ve already told you I didn’t have a pound of horseflesh left.”
“You got smokes?”
“Yeah, but not many.”
“I got plenty in here. Them little packages of Mexican cigarillos. Didn’t you used to smoke them at one time?”
“You know me, Jack. I’ll smoke a lariat rope if it’s got any age on it and at least been cured in the sun.”
“Well, ain’t no need of you savin’ yours. I’m a pretty good chunker. I reckon I could land one of these little packs in yore ditch if it come to need. I don’t like to see a man suffer. Go ahead and light up.
Longarm tried to make his voice sound a little hoarse. “Tell you the truth, Jack, my mouth is full of cotton. I reckon I better quit talking for a while and maybe work up a little spit. Smoke don’t taste so good on a dry mouth.”
Shaw laughed wryly. “Plenty of water in here, Custis. Welcome to come on in and help yourself.”
Longarm didn’t bother to answer. He was working himself around to where he could hang an eye over the edge of the wash and have a good view of the cabin. But he had to find a position he’d be comfortable in because he had an idea he’d have to be able to hold it for quite some time. He kept easing around, moving his body slightly this way and that, until he found a position that allowed him to rest his face on a little hump in the front wall of the wash and still be able to peek over the edge and see the cabin through the roots of the greasewood brambles. He had carefully placed his revolver right next to his head, and now he reached back and gingerly drew his carbine up to his side where it was instantly handy.
After that he rested a few moments, making sure he was in a comfortable enough position that he wouldn’t have to move for at least a half an hour—longer if necessary.
As he carefully worked a small cigar, along with a match, out of his left-hand shirt pocket, he wondered if Jack Shaw really thought he was that dumb. Well, he thought, he would soon find out. He took a quick glance toward the cabin, then ducked his head down into the ditch, striking the match with his thumbnail as he did. In a second he had applied the flame to the little cigar, taken a hard puff to get it burning, and then quickly extended it to his left as far as his arm would reach, laying the cigar down. The smoke was just starting to curl upward from the burning end of
