“I thought you didn’t believe in the Brazos Devil,” Thorp said, lifting one eyebrow in an expression of smug surprise.
“I’m not sure I do,” Longarm said honestly, “but I’m willing to keep an open mind about it.”
Thorp sighed, and suddenly he looked older again. “I find that I have to believe in the creature, Marshal Long. As horrible as being taken captive by it might be for Emmaline, I think she has a better chance of still being alive if that’s what happened. If that outlaw Rainey is lying… if Emmaline wound up in the hands of him and his partner… then I have no doubt she’s dead now.”
“Chances are you’re right,” Longarm agreed, being brutally frank about it. “I reckon for your sake—and the sake of your wife—I hope there really is a Brazos Devil too.”
Thorp inclined his head toward the door behind him. “Well, come on in. I don’t believe you met Lord and Lady Beechmuir in town. I’ll introduce you.”
Longarm followed Thorp into the other part of the house, into a much more tastefully appointed drawing room. The influence of Emmaline Thorp was readily visible here in the rugs, the delicate furniture, the crystal chandelier, and the lace curtains over the windows. This could have been a drawing room in a Southern mansion. John and Helene Booth were seated on a small divan, both of them holding glasses of brandy. The Indian servant, Ghote, hovered in the background.
Booth came to his feet as Longarm and Thorp entered the room. The rancher said, “Lord Beechmuir, I neglected to introduce this gentleman while we were in town. This is Marshal Custis Long, who also has an interest in this affair. He has a prisoner in jail in Cottonwood Springs who is involved, at least indirectly, in my wife’s disappearance.”
Booth extended a hand. “It’s a great pleasure to meet you, Marshal. However, I was under the impression that Mr. Burley was the local constable.”
“He is,” Longarm said as he returned the Englishman’s firm grip. “I’m a deputy United States marshal.”
“Ah, a representative of your country’s government,” said Booth. “I’m pleased and honored to make your acquaintance.” He turned and held out a hand toward his wife. “Allow me to present Lady Beechmuir.”
Longarm smiled at Helene and acted on an impulse, bending over the hand she held up to him and brushing his lips across the back as he took it. “The honor’s all mine, ma’am.”
“My, aren’t you the charming gentleman, even if you do look like a cowboy, Marshal Long,” she said.
“I prefer to think of myself as a diamond in the rough, ma’am.”
The fires he had seen in her eyes earlier were banked now, but he could still feel some heat coming from her. Not being in the habit of standing around and flirting with married women—at least not while their husbands were in the room—Longarm released her hand and smiled politely at her, then turned back to Thorp and Lord Beechmuir.
“Like I told Mr. Thorp,” he said to the Englishman, “I rode out here to volunteer to go along with you when you start looking for the Brazos Devil.”
“Do you have any big-game hunting experience, Marshal Long?”
“Well, I’ve shot my share of grizzly bears and mountain lions,” Longarm said, “but only when they were fixing to jump me. I’ve had more experience hunting men, and those who have seen it say the Brazos Devil is half- man.”
“And half-monster,” Thorp put in. “But we’ll be glad for the help, won’t we, Lord Beechmuir?”
“Of course. Always good to have another competent chap along for a hunt.”
Helene said, “Marshal Long looks very competent indeed.”
Longarm figured he had better ignore that, but then chivalry got the better of him and he nodded to her. “Thank you, ma’am.” To Thorp he said, “What time do you plan on leaving in the morning?”
“We’ll be on the trail early. You think you can show us where Rainey saw whatever he claims he didn’t see?”
“That’s just what I planned to do,” Longarm said.
Booth raised his glass of brandy. “I propose a toast, gentlemen … although perhaps that’s not the proper thing to do, considering the plight that has brought us here, Benjamin.”
Thorp shook his head and said, “No, that’s all right, your lordship. I’m very concerned about my wife’s safety, of course, but I realize this is an important undertaking for you too. Hunting down a creature like the one we’ve got around here will make you more famous than ever.”
“Yes, but your dear bride’s return is of course the most important thing.”
While Thorp and Booth were trading those comments, the servant Ghote glided forward and pressed a glass of brandy into Longarm’s hand. Longarm noticed that Ghote had a fresh glass for Lady Beechmuir as well. Her ladyship had polished off the first one.
Booth raised his glass. “To the Brazos Devil, my friends,” he said in his mellifluous voice. “And to us, the men who will bring the creature back … dead or alive.”
Chapter 7
Thorp insisted that Longarm stay for supper. The man was distracted by the situation and his worry about his wife, but the Western tradition of hospitality ran deep. Longarm accepted the invitation, and was glad he did. The middle-aged black woman who served as cook and housekeeper for the Rocking T dished up some fine grub, Longarm discovered as he put away several helpings of ham, sweet potatoes, and greens.
After the meal, Longarm, Thorp, and Lord Beechmuir went into the main room of the stone house, which Longarm figured served as a study of sorts for the rancher. As he handed cigars to the other two men, Thorp confirmed that this part of the house had been his original dwelling when he’d started the Rocking T, long before he went to New Orleans on a business trip and unexpectedly brought back a bride.
