“Because,” Randy said, “Betty loved the Bar S. And I heard Red once say that she stood to inherit the spread if anything happened to him.”
“Do you know if he had a will made out?”
“No.”
“Do you know the Marble brothers?”
“I … I guess I do.”
“And there’s a fella named Jake Mill that was a member of their gang. I’m told that he lives in Cortez.”
“Could be he does.”
Longarm’s voice hardened. “Don’t play games, Randy! The man who pistol-whipped you and took that woman has already killed Hank Trabert and his father and brother, and now he’s killed Red and the hand with the broken neck.”
“Johnny. His name was Johnny Webb.”
“All right. So this man, The Assassin, has killed five men since I’ve started tracking him out of Denver, and there are three more members of the Marble gang that have no idea that their lives are in real danger. Maybe I can arrest The Assassin before he completes what he has set out to do. But I need to know anything you can tell me. Mostly, I need to know where this Jake Mill and the Marble brothers are so that I can get to them before The Assassin does.”
“Is that what you call him? The Assassin?”
Longarm dipped his chin. “For lack of a better name.”
“Well,” Randy said, “I can’t tell you a thing more than I already have.”
Longarm gazed deep into the kid’s troubled eyes and figured he was telling the truth. “Randy,” he said, coming to his feet, “you’re going to be all right. But maybe you should go to Denver and see a doctor, just in case.”
“Got no money.”
“Can you get someone to take you?”
“I suppose, but …”
Longarm scribbled Billy Vail’s name and the address of the Federal Building where he and Billy worked. “You look up my boss and give him a letter that I’m about to write. Tell him that I’m heading for Cortez and that The Assassin has killed Red and Trabert and is after Jake Mill and the Marble brothers.”
“I’ll do that, but …”
“Here,” Longarm said, digging a roll of bills out of his pocket and counting out some money, then scribbling down the name of a Dr. Marston with a busy medical practice in Denver. “There’s thirty dollars and the name of a good doctor. You tell him I sent you. And as for Billy, well, he’s got a reputation for being a very soft touch and he’ll also help you out.”
“Why are you doin’ this for me?”
“Because I know how bad you feel,” Longarm replied. “And because if I’d gotten to The Assassin, you wouldn’t be in such pain.”
“Weren’t your fault.”
“Maybe, maybe not,” Longarm said. “But anyway, go to Denver and have your head checked out.”
“I got a friend that lives there. Maybe he’ll let me stay the winter and when I get better, I can get a job again. Ain’t no work up here in South Park.”
“Then good luck to you,” Longarm said.
“You’re the one that’s going to need the luck!”
“I guess you’re right.”
“Maybe Betty will kill him for you. She’s a tough one.”
“Maybe. If he doesn’t kill her first.”
“You think she’s already dead?”
Longarm gave the question some thought, then shook his head. “No, I don’t,” he answered. “This man is a killer, but he seems to have some regard for children and for women. Could be that you’re alive today because you’re so young.”
Randy cradled his head in his rough, calloused hands. “Since it happened, I been wondering if I wouldn’t have been better off dead.”
“Don’t even talk like that,” Longarm said. “Get to the doctor. After he examines you, I’m sure that you’ll feel a lot better about your future.”
Randy nodded. “How long will these headaches go on?”
“Could be another few weeks.”
“I’m half tempted to stay drunk.”
“Now that,” Longarm assured Randy, “would only make the headaches even worse.”
“You tried it, huh?”
“I did,” Longarm said. “Dr. Marston will give you some medicine that will help. But mostly, it will just take a lot
