be asked to hunt down this bloody beast that’s been plaguing you and your citizens, eh, what?”
Thorp was excited. He had forgotten for the moment about Rainey, Longarm saw, and was worked up again about the Brazos Devil. He turned to Longarm and Burley and said, “I read in the newspaper that Lord Beechmuir was in San Antonio on a visit, and I figured he’d be the perfect man for the job. After all, he’s hunted big game all over the world, haven’t you, Lord Beechmuir?”
“Indeed,” said the Englishman. “Elephants in Africa, tigers in India … you name it and I’ve shot it.” He moved slightly aside. “Allow me to introduce my wife. Helene, this is Mr. Benjamin Thorp, our host.”
Helene Booth murmured a properly demure greeting and shook hands with Thorp, although she looked as if she halfway expected him to kiss her hand instead of shake it. As she turned away, her eyes met Longarm’s for an instant, and he felt as if somebody had just punched him in the belly. There was something incredibly powerful about Helene’s gaze, something raw and primordial that called out to the male animal residing deep within Longarm, the atavistic savage that dwelled inside all men.
“Lordy,” he muttered to himself, sweeping those thoughts away with an effort. Unless he missed his guess, Helene Booth was one damned horny woman.
“… my servants, Absalom Singh and Randamar Ghote, Booth was saying. Singh was the tall one with the sword and the beard, judging by the way he bowed when Booth said the name. That would make Ghote the little one, and Longarm wondered idly if anybody had ever called him Billy.
“There have been some unexpected developments, Lord Beechmuir,” Thorp said, “but I still want you to try to track down the creature we think may be out there somewhere along the Brazos. We still can’t rule out the possibility that it exists, and that it took my wife.”
“Please, call me John,” Booth replied. “And you can be assured that I shall do my utmost to rescue your lovely bride, Benjamin. The head of this Brazos Devil of yours will make quite the trophy for the wall of my club back in London, eh?”
Longarm felt almost as if he had stepped into the middle of some opera house play without knowing it. He wished for a second he had headed for Graham or Palo Pinto or some other town instead of Cottonwood Springs. He had a job to do, and the presence of an English big-game hunter, his overheated redheaded wife, and a couple of turban-wearing Indians of the subcontinent sort would just complicate things.
He was about to find out just how much of a complication, because Booth went on. “I believe this is one hunt I would make even without that twenty-thousand-dollar bounty you’re offering, Benjamin.”
Chapter 6
“Bounty?” Marshal Burley repeated. “Did you say something about a bounty, Mr. Booth?”
“That’s correct,” the Englishman said. “Twenty thousand dollars for the head of the Brazos Devil.” He added to Thorp, “Quite sporting of you, Benjamin, I must say.”
Burley turned to Thorp and said in an accusing tone, “You didn’t tell me anything about a bounty, Mr. Thorp.”
“Well, it’s none of your business,” snapped the rancher, looking not the least bit repentant. “After more than a week had gone by and you hadn’t found any sign of Emmaline, I knew I had to do something.”
Longarm knew what Burley was worried about, and the local lawman confirmed it by saying in a half-groan, “Money like that will bring in half the men in the state, and they’ll be shooting at anything that moves between here and the Brazos! Tell me you didn’t put an advertisement in the newspapers!”
“That’s exactly what I did,” Thorp said. “I ran the notice in papers in Fort Worth, Dallas, Austin, San Antonio, Galveston, and New Orleans.”
Burley closed his eyes and grimaced.
“But I wrote personally to Lord Beechmuir,” Thorp went on. “He’s the first one to arrive.”
Burley looked at the Englishman. “You really think you can track down that varmint, Mr. Booth?”
“Of course I can,” Booth asserted. “I tracked a particular lion halfway across the veldt once. A killer, he was, with a taste for human flesh.”
“I’ll take your word for it,” Burley told him. “I just hope you find the Brazos Devil in a hurry, before a bunch of bounty hunters come down on this town like a plague of locusts.”
Longarm figured the marshal was exaggerating a little, but probably not by much. Nothing drew folks like the chance of a big payoff. People sometimes lost all common sense when they smelled the possibility of money.
“I intend to begin my search as soon as possible,” Booth assured Burley. “I’ll be making my headquarters at Mr. Thorp’s ranch.” Booth looked over at Thorp. “I believe you said that I could use your men as beaters, Benjamin, once I’ve discovered the general location of the animal?”
“My hands will do whatever you say,” Thorp replied with a nod. “Everything I have is at your disposal.”
“Well, I’ll take a small party into the bush first. Myself and Singh and a couple of men should do just fine. Then, once I’ve found the beast, I can send a rider back to fetch assistance.”
Thorp nodded. “Sounds good to me. Why don’t we go on out to the ranch so you can get settled in?” He managed to smile at Lady Beechmuir. “I’m sure her ladyship is tired after the trip up here from San Antonio.”
“I wouldn’t mind freshening up a bit,” Helene said, returning Thorp’s smile.
“It’s settled then.” Thorp cast a meaningful glance at Burley. “Isn’t it, Mal?”
“I suppose so, Mr. Thorp,” Burley responded grudgingly. “But like I said, I sure hope you find that monster in a hurry.”
For Emmaline Thorp’s sake, so did Longarm.
The visitors climbed back into the wagons, Booth and his wife getting into the first one along with the servant Randamar Ghote, who handled the team. The fierce-looking Singh stepped up to the box of the second wagon and took the reins. Benjamin Thorp fetched his buggy from the nearby livery stable and led the little procession out of Cottonwood Springs.
