always serving food or cleaning in the kitchen.”
“You don’t look like a farm girl,” Longarm remarked, “and I don’t mean that to insult your family.”
“Then what do you mean?”
He forked the pie into his mouth. “Huh?”
“What does a ‘farm girl’ look like?”
Longarm knew that she was challenging him and he wasn’t about to back down. “Well,” he began, “for starters, no farm girl I ever saw wore clothes and jewelry like you’re wearing. And they didn’t have their hair done up so fine nor have painted fingernails and rouge on their cheeks.”
The woman had green eyes and they started to flash, but Longarm headed her off by saying, “And I’ve never seen one with such a beautiful complexion. I don’t mean to be disrespectful, but your skin hasn’t seen much sun— it’s beautiful.”
His words swept away whatever protest or irritation she might have had and she relaxed. “My name is Miss Victoria Hathaway.”
“And mine is Custis Long. I’m a United States deputy marshal on my way to Arizona.”
“A federal lawman, how interesting! Now, that does surprise me.”
“Why?”
“You look like a successful cattle rancher. Or perhaps an important mining superintendent.”
“Nothing nearly that lofty, miss. But, if you doubt my word, I’d be happy to show you my badge.”
“That’s not necessary, Marshal Long. What takes you to Arizona?”
“I have a friend in trouble down near Wickenburg. I mean to help him out, if it isn’t too late.”
“Too late for what?”
“To save his life.”
Victoria’s eyes widened a little. “Is he in serious trouble?”
“Probably. He claims to know where to find a Spanish treasure in coin. Jimmy Cox never could keep a secret, and this time it just might have gotten him killed.”
“I hope not!”
“Me too.”
Longarm chose not to say anything about the outlaw Hank Bass because you never knew who might be one of his friends, relatives, or even his lovers. But this elegant and obviously upper-class lady seemed the most unlikely of candidates.
“I’m going to Prescott,” the woman announced. “So I guess that we’ll be traveling at least partway together.”
“That would please me right down to the soles of my flat feet,” he said with a disarming smile. “How are you getting from Ash Fork to Prescott?”
“There will be a buggy waiting.”
“Oh.”
“One that you’d be welcome to come along in, Marshal.”
“Thanks. I’m going to be a little short on funds until the government wires my expense money to Prescott. So your offer is appreciated.”
“I’m sure that my fiance will enjoy meeting you, Marshal Long.”
Custis tried hard to mask his disappointment. A fiance was fine, but he did cut out all the promise of a more interesting relationship. Oh, well, Miss Hathaway was out of his league anyway. And besides, there was that lovely lady in Prescott.
Chapter 4
Longarm had an enjoyable train ride to Ash Fork, Arizona, because Victoria Hathaway was fun and a very interesting lady. Over the hundreds of hours they spent together in conversation, Longarm came to know the woman quite well. Victoria really had been a Nebraska farmer’s daughter, but had so detested living there and working from morning to night that she had eloped with a traveling salesman when she was just fifteen. Together, they had traveled across the plains and wound up in the Colorado gold fields. Both she and her husband had contracted gold fever and then had made a good strike near Central City.
“And that was when the trouble began between us,” she confided. “Art went crazy over the money. Try to imagine that we were literally dressed in rags and down to the last of our food when we struck it rich. Suddenly, we had more money than we knew what to do with and Art couldn’t handle it.”
“What do you mean?”
“He wanted to buy everything! He stayed drunk, spent his nights partying and whoring … oh, he just went to hell in a hand-basket. I never knew that money could corrupt a man so quickly and completely.”
“So,” Longarm said, “you divorced Art and took your share of the money?”
“I was going to do that, but he was stabbed to death by a whore and robbed. I wound up with the mine, but legal fees and thieves nearly broke me. Finally, I sold out and took what I had managed to save to Arizona.”
“Without a thought of returning to that Nebraska farm country?”
“That’s right. I moved to Prescott and bought a nice Victorian house. I opened a cafe—I suppose because of all
