Longarm said, “It’s signed Custis Long, U.S. Deputy Marshal.”
“How am I supposed to know you’re a deputy marshal?”
Longarm pulled out the revolver he had taken from Chulo. He didn’t like the feel of it. It was not a .44 caliber, but a .45. It didn’t have the same feel in his hand and it didn’t fit his holster, which had been handcrafted for his own pistol, a revolver. He reminded himself that Richard Harding had taken it from him and it was probably at the damned ranch. But the .45 would have to do. He showed it to the telegraph operator.
Longarm said, “For the time being, this is my badge. Now send the damned telegram or do I have to do it myself?”
The skinny operator swallowed visibly, his Adam’s apple going up and down. He said, “Well, you ain’t got to get huffy about it, Marshal.”
Longarm said, “I ain’t huffy. I’m just in a hurry. It’s nearly eleven-o’clock. That makes it midnight in Denver. The man I am sending this to goes to bed with the chickens. I’d hate to have to wake him up too late, it might stop his heart.”
The operator said, “You ain’t supposed to say ‘son of a bitch’ in one of these wires. This here is U.S. government wire it’s being sent over, even though it belongs to the telegraph company.”
“That’s fine. ‘Son of a bitch’ is a federal word being sent by a federal officer over federal wire. Now send it!”
The operator swallowed again. He said, “Yes, Sir.”
The telegraph came to $12, which Longarm believed was the most he had ever paid to send a wire. He could, of course, claim government privilege, but he had given the man such a fright that he had decided to pay it anyway. It would just be another thing for Billy Vail to bitch about on his expense voucher. When the telegraph was gone, Longarm said, “Now, I’m down at the River Hotel. Any wires that come for me, Custis Long, had better reach me. Fast.”
The operator looked up at him, surprised. He asked, you the one they call Longarm?”
Longarm said, “Yes.”
The telegraph operator said, “Well, why in the hell didn’t you say so in the first place? I would have been glad to have this thing sent off ten minutes sooner. Hell, word is that you’re a pretty good man.”
“Well, this pretty good man is about whipped. I need some supper and about half a bottle of whiskey and a bath and some decent clothes.”
As he was about to turn away, the telegraph operator said curiously, “Is Judge Richard Harding really a crook?”
Longarm whipped around. He said, “You know what will happen to you if word of that goes outside of this office.”
The telegraph operator said, “It ain’t going outside this office, but what you said in this telegram just goes along with what a lot of folks in this town have been thinking.”
Longarm nodded. “I’m glad to hear that. Now where is there a haberdashery open this time of night where I can get some clean clothes?”
The telegrapher said, “Well, should be a couple of places down near the middle of town still open where you can get some jeans and a shirt, if that be all you’re wanting. But say, Marshal, something you might want to know. I ain’t been on duty all that long but seems like I heard that Judge Harding come in on the afternoon train. I didn’t see him myself, you understand?”
Longarm squinted his eyes at the man. He asked, “You just heard it?”
“It was just kind of passed on, you know, like it was not of any importance. I heard one of the loading-dock employees say something about having seen Judge Harding.”
Longarm bit his lip. He said, “What the hell is today, anyway?”
The telegrapher said, “Friday.”
Longarm wheeled around on his heels. “Thanks.”
He went out the door and down off the platform and mounted the tired horse. If Harding had come in, there was nothing he could do about it. He simply had to wait until he could get confirmation from whatever federal officer Billy Vail could reach in San Antonio. Maybe he would hear tomorrow. It was a big country and he couldn’t go dashing here and there looking for a shadow. But he did need to get out of that shadow’s clothes. If he was sick of anything, he was sick of wearing Judge Richard Harding’s ill-fitting clothes. He went to the store and bought new clothes.
He left the tired horse off at the hotel livery and then walked around the hotel and into the lobby. At the desk, he left word that he wanted a bath sent up to his room and also a steak with all that went with it and a bottle of whiskey. After that, Longarm climbed the stairs to the second floor and went down to his room and let himself in and pitched the parcels he had bought at the general mercantile on the bed. His room and Sarah’s shared a connecting door. He unlocked it with a key and opened it slowly, giving a gentle rap as he did. She was up, sitting on the side of her bed in a kind of flannel nightgown. There was a bathtub still in the middle of the room with towels scattered about. She looked wan and drawn but still pretty even with wet hair and no makeup. He came forward, skirting the tub, and leaned down and kissed her lightly.
He said, “You look about tuckered out.”
She said, “I am. Did you have any luck?”
“I don’t know, honey. All I was doing was getting off a telegram to try and get some information. It will be a little while.”
“I thought I was going to go to sleep waiting for you,” she said.
“You should have.”
“I wanted you to hold me.”
