Victoria was quiet for a time and then she said, “Could we get this over with and leave this evil place?”
“Sure.” Longarm left her by their dying campfire and went into the cabin. He searched it thoroughly and did find a big coffee can filled with stolen money and jewelry. Taking it outside, he said, “Hold this while I finish up this foul business.”
He went back inside and found matches, then dropped them on the floor and the bed. The straw mattress erupted in flames and Longarm hurried outside. This wasn’t being done strictly according to the law book, but there was no reason for an inquest or to waste good taxpayer time and money giving scum like those inside a proper burial. And if some do-gooder objected, he or she could collect their charred bones and inter them in a grave and have a little ceremony. But they’d do so at their time and expense. When the fire was raging, Longarm took Victoria’s arm and they walked slowly back down the canyon. When they reached its mouth, they turned north toward Prescott.
“I almost hope that Hank Bass spotted my horse,” he remarked as they trudged along.
“But why?! If that happened last night, we’ll be afoot.”
“Yeah,” Longarm conceded, “but there is also a fair chance that Cyclone just might have either stomped or bitten him to death.”
Victoria looked up at him with a curious expression, so Longarm added, “When you see Cyclone, you’ll understand.
“Oh.” Victoria said nothing more until they climbed down in a gully and saw that the ugly little pony was still alive and waiting.
“Stand back,” Longarm warned, dodging a hoof and then leaping forward to grab Cyclone by the halter and twist his ear until the pony quivered with pain. “Now, get on his back!”
“Are you-“
“Hurry!”
Victoria climbed into the saddle, and Longarm released Cyclone’s ear and then swung up behind her. He grabbed the reins and then he gave the little bay demon its head. As always, Cyclone took off running like a scalded cat, heading straight south for Wickenburg.
Chapter 8
By the time that Longarm and Victoria rode double into Wickenburg, the hour was growing late and even Cyclone was stumbling with weariness.
“I’ll get us rooms at the Trevor House,” Longarm said as he helped Victoria down. “Would you also like me to summon a doctor?”
“Heavens no!”
“Are you sure?” Longarm asked, knowing full well the savagery that Victoria must have endured at the hands of the Bass gang.
“Yes,” she said, straightening her dress. “What I really want is a hot bath, a bottle of cognac, and a good night’s sleep. This whole thing has been a nightmare.”
“You’re going to have to talk about it to someone,” Longarm told her. “You have any close lady friends in Wickenburg?”
“I do … and I will.” Victoria started to turn away. “And, Custis?”
“Yes?”
“Are you sure that Bernard is dead?”
“No. But I would imagine so.”
“And he only offered a hundred dollars reward for my safe return?”
Longarm heard the now familiar tremor in Victoria’s voice. “I’m sure that he offered much more. Don’t dwell on it. I’ll ask around about your fiance and, if no one knows his condition, we’ll wire Prescott first thing in the morning.”
“Thank you. Will you be coming in soon?”
“Yeah,” Longarm said. “But first, I need to get some answers of my own.”
“About that old prospector friend, Jimmy Cox?”
“That’s right. And about Hank Bass. He may have come here after he escaped the canyon last night. I’d say there’s a reasonable chance that he might even be found drowning ‘his sorrows in one of the local watering holes.”
“You be very careful.”
“I will,” Longarm said. “And there’s the matter of this money that we found in the cabin. I’m going to put it in the bank tomorrow morning after I deduct some travel money. I’ll let someone else sort things out later.”
Victoria studied Cyclone. “He really did quite well, you know.”
“He’s an outlaw,” Longarm said. “But I did promise to give him his freedom if he behaved.”
“You’re turning him loose?”
“Damn right I am,” Longarm said. “Best thing to do before he kills someone.”
Longarm did exactly what he’d promised. After leaving Victoria in front of the hotel, he rode the ill-tempered but bighearted Cyclone out to the end of town, unsaddled then unbridled him and set him free. The pony surprised him by not immediately bolting away in a dead run. It turned its ugly head and stared at him in the moonlight, as if asking what would happen next.
