Mal Burley watched them go and muttered under his breath, “Did you ever see anything like that?”
Longarm knew the local marshal wasn’t really talking to him, but he replied anyway. “Not particularly, though I’ve run across a heap of strange things in my time. That big fella with the sword, I think he’s what they call a Sikh. Mighty fine fighting men, from what I hear.”
“I don’t care. I just want the whole lot out of my town where they won’t cause trouble.” Burley lifted a hand and rubbed wearily at his temple. “And I wish Mr. Thorp had asked me first before posting a bounty on the Brazos Devil. I don’t think he really knows what he’s started.”
“I don’t reckon he cares,” Longarm said. “He strikes me as the sort of gent who generally does what he wants.”
“Yeah,” Burley said, nodding slowly. “That describes Mr. Thorp, all right.” He looked over at Longarm. “You’re still going to stay in these parts for a few days, aren’t you? Mr. Thorp seems to have forgotten that Rainey may be mixed up with his wife’s disappearance, but I haven’t.”
Longarm thought about the developments of the morning and replied honestly, “I don’t think you could get me to leave now if you wanted to, Marshal.”
With the show over for the time being, Longarm went over to the Western Union office and sent that telegram to Billy Vail in Denver, informing his boss that Mitch Rainey was his prisoner and that he had been forced to kill Jimmy Lloyd in the process of apprehending the outlaws. He went on to say that Rainey was in jail in Cottonwood Springs, pending the outcome of a possible jurisdictional dispute. When the telegrapher was finished tapping out the message, he looked up from his key at Longarm and asked, “Do you want to wait for a reply, Marshal?”
“No, and don’t come looking for me when one comes in either, old son,” Longarm told him. “I’ll come by and pick it up when I get the chance.”
That ought to take care of it, he thought as he left the telegraph office and paused on the street outside to fire up a cheroot. As long as he could honestly claim that he had not received any instructions to proceed directly to Denver and jurisdictional disputes be damned, he felt justified in waiting to see what happened next in Cottonwood Springs.
He sauntered back toward the jail, and found the office empty. Longarm knew where Burley kept the ring of keys, though, so he took it from the desk and unlocked the cellblock door. Rainey looked up dispiritedly from his bunk as Longarm stepped into the aisle between the rows of cells.
“Come to badger me some more about that woman, Long?” the prisoner asked.
Longarm hooked a stool with the toe of his boot and drew it over so that he could sit down in front of Rainey’s cell. “Nope,” he said as he took the cheroot out of his mouth. “It just so happens that I believe your story, Rainey.”
The outlaw frowned at him. “Really?”
Longarm nodded solemnly and said, “Yep.”
“Well, you’re the first law-dog that ever believed a word I said,” Rainey allowed with a shake of his head. “Even when I was telling the truth, no man wearing a badge ever took it as gospel.”
“And just how often were you really telling the truth, old son?”
A sly grin stretched across Rainey’s face. “Ever’ now and then.”
Longarm chuckled. He didn’t feel much beyond contempt for Rainey, but he could pretend otherwise if it might get him some answers. “I been thinking about that jewelry. Just where did you say you and Lloyd found it?”
“Don’t recall that I ever did say exactly … but it was a couple miles southeast of the place where we jumped you.”
Longarm nodded, thinking about what he knew of the geography of the area. “On the far side of the river?”
“Yeah.”
That would put the spot generally opposite the point where Matt Hardcastle’s savaged body had been found, Longarm decided. He said, “Was the stuff out in the open, or was it hid under a bush or something?”
“Well, there’s a game trail through there, and it was at the side of the trail, not in the middle, if that’s what you’re asking.
Longarm considered. He knew very little about Emmaline Thorp, had no idea how cool-headed she might be in the face of danger. But it was possible she could have dropped the necklace and bracelet on purpose, hoping that the jewelry would tell any searchers she had been there. In that case she could have tossed them to the side of the trail, hoping her captor wouldn’t notice. Which evidently had been what happened, or the jewelry wouldn’t have been there for the two outlaws to find.
Longarm hoped his line of reasoning was correct, because that would mean Mrs. Thorp hadn’t been killed outright, like Hardcastle and the Lavery boys. If whoever—or whatever—had grabbed her had had a reason for not killing her then, maybe she was still alive.
As for the existence of the creature known as the Brazos Devil, Longarm wasn’t ready to make up his mind on that question just yet. Maybe Lord Beechmuir, that big-game hunter from England, would be able to find and kill the beast. Longarm recalled that gorillas had been considered legends and myths—the mysterious ape-men of Africa, they had been called—until somebody had actually captured one and brought it back to civilization. Maybe this so- called Brazos Devil was an American cousin of the gorilla.
He stood up, dropped the butt of his cheroot on the floor, and crushed it out with his boot. “I sure as hell hope you’re telling the truth, Rainey,” he told the prisoner. “If you’re not, I don’t reckon I can help you much. If Thorp finds out you hurt his wife …” Longarm just shook his head and didn’t finish the sentence.
Rainey gulped. “I said it before and I’ll say it again. Jimmy and me never even saw that woman, let alone did anything to her.”
Before Longarm could say anything else, he heard the front door of the office open. “Hey!” Burley exclaimed a second later when he saw the open cellblock door.
