“I won’t carry it out into the barn with me,” Longarm assured him, pulling out a pair of cheroots and offering one to Lewis, who declined the invitation.
Longarm took his time trimming and lighting the slender cigar, keeping his attention on the young entrepreneur without being obvious about it. Lewis seemed quite content to wait. He showed no nervousness or irritation whatsoever, but waited patiently for his guest to get on with the interview.
“I notice that the horses you used that day aren’t in the corrals now. I hope them and the gents who were driving them aren’t off working somewhere.”
“The grays are gone because I had to sell them,” Lewis told him. “The explosion ruined them. High-quality carriage horses have to be steady, you see. It is remarkable how exacting some customers can be, with the demands they sometimes place on horses and people alike. The grays were my best team, I have to tell you, but after the explosion they were not the same. Not dependable, you see. Why, we had to lip-twitch them or ear them down just to get harness onto them. They would not work together any longer, wouldn’t stand without becoming nervous and working up a sweat. I felt sorry for the poor things, but I could no longer use them. I had to sell them off. Not as a team either, unfortunately, which cut into whatever value they should have had.”
“Sorry to hear that,” Longarm said. “What about the men?” Again he consulted Henry’s slip of paper. “John Boatwright and Carl Beamon?”
“Boatwright was the driver of my carriage that day,” Lewis said. “He is due to come on duty at noon. That will be in, what, forty-five minutes or so? Boatwright has a short hire for this afternoon with a light team. You can talk to him when he shows up for work. He is quite dependable; you can count on him being here when he said he would. Or if you prefer, I can give you his address and you can try to catch him at home, although he may already have gone somewhere for his dinner. He is a bachelor and generally takes his meals out,” Lewis said.
“I’ll see him here if it’s all right with you.”
“Of course. As for Beamon, I am afraid he is no longer available. He was killed, you see.”
“Nobody told me he was hurt too,” Longarm said.
“Oh, he was not injured in the explosion. It was practically a miracle the way he escaped that without harm. No, Carl died two days ago in an accident.”
“Really.”
“Yes. He was crossing the street. At night, although not particularly late. I am told he was on his way home after supper. He may have been drinking. I wouldn’t know about that. In any event, a runaway wagon ran right over him when he stepped off the sidewalk. Broke his neck, I believe.”
“This happened two nights ago?”
“That’s right.”
“Here?”
“In Aurora. Carl lived in Aurora.”
“Uh-huh.”
“It was a shame, of course. He was a good enough employee. Not as dependable as some, but better than most of the help I see here. I am still looking for a replacement. Uh, if you know of anyone …”
“Sorry, but I couldn’t say that I do. Before I forget, Mr. Lewis, do you recall who it was that hired you to carry the commissioner and his party that day?”
“Yes, of course I do. The hire was arranged by the United States attorney, a Mr. Terrell. I, um, don’t suppose you know who I should contact about the bill for, uh, services rendered, do you? With Mr. Terrell among the casualties I haven’t been sure …”
Longarm wasn’t about to tell this fellow that Terrell had survived the incident. “The acting U.S. attorney now is a man name of J.B. Cotton. You could try billing him. Or the office. I don’t know if the hire was official government business or political. If it was s’posed to be political, then I expect you’d have to see some of the party officials. Whoever they might be.”
“Yes, well, I guess I can try the official route first, and go to the party if that doesn’t work.” He frowned. “I shouldn’t want to bill the estate. Someone needs to pay, although my insurance carrier will take care of at least partial replacement cost for the carriage. It was completely destroyed.”
“Yes, sir, I was there that day. I saw what little was left of your rig.”
Lewis shook his head. “All I saw was the aftermath. That was bad enough.”
“Yes, sir.” Longarm crossed his legs and ground out the coal of his cheroot on the sole of his boot, then tucked what was left of the smoke into a pocket. “Thanks for your time, Mr. Lewis. If I have more questions later …”
“You are welcome here any time, Marshal. Always glad to help the law, you know.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“As for Boatwright, talk to him all you need. If you want him for the afternoon, just say so and I will get someone else to take his place this afternoon.”
“That won’t be necessary, sir, but I appreciate your help. It won’t go unnoticed.”
“Any time, Marshal. Any time at all.”
“Thank you, sir. Good day now.” Longarm touched the brim of his Stetson and left the young man to his ledgers.
Chapter 29
“Remember it, mister? God, I reckon. I’ll be able to call that day back to mind for the rest of my life, believe me,” John Boatwright—“just call me Boats”—said when Longarm posed his question. “Who’d you say you are again, mister?”
Longarm dragged out his badge to flash, and repeated his name.
