unconscious combatants be dragged down to the jail, while he had used the shotgun to prod the ones who were still upright into moving. The cell block was full at the moment, and Doc Carson was in there now checking over the men who had been knocked out. The physician had already examined Longarm and proclaimed him to be all right, with the exception of a bad headache from the blow he had suffered.
Moving on legs that were still a little shaky, Longarm headed toward the cellblock door. “Is the girl all right?” he asked. “You said she’s Catamount Jack’s daughter?”
“That’s what she claims,” replied Burley, “and I don’t know why anybody would say that unless it was true! She wasn’t knocked out like you, just stunned a mite. Doc’s already checked her out and said she’ll be just fine.”
Longarm swung open the door, which was closed but not locked. There were six cells back here, three on each side of the wide aisle. Mitch Rainey was in the first cell on the right, Catamount Jack and his daughter were in the second one, and the rest of the brawlers from the saloon were crowded into the remaining four cells. There was a lot of groaning and cussing going on among them.
There were no complaints coming from the cell containing Catamount Jack and the girl, however. They were sitting side by side on the bunk, arms around each other’s shoulders, bellowing out the obscene lyrics of an old sailor’s song. Longarm frowned at them, and even Rainey, in the next cell, was looking a little askance at the pair.
The girl stopped singing when she saw Longarm. “There he is!” she called out. “There’s that handsome fella I told you about, Pa.”
She had taken off her hat so that her honey-colored curls spilled around her shoulders. Her face was smudged with dirt and had a smear of blood on the forehead, but she was still a reasonably attractive young woman. She grinned at Longarm.
Catamount Jack stood up and came over to the door of the cell. He thrust his ham-like right hand through the bars. “Hear tell you pitched in on our side durin’ that little fracas, stranger,” he said. “Much obliged, even though me an’ Lucy didn’t really need no help. We’d’ve cleaned up that bunch sooner or later.”
Longarm shook hands with the man, expecting a bone-crushing grip and getting one.
“I’m Catamount Jack Vermilion,” the big man went on, and this here’s my girl-child Lucy. Who might you be?”
“Custis Long.” Longarm paused, then added, “I’m a deputy United States marshal.”
Catamount Jack’s eyes narrowed. “Lawman, eh? First time one o’ them critters ever tried to give me a hand. But like I said, I’m obliged anyway.”
“What in blazes was that brawl all about?” asked Longarm.
Catamount Jack jerked a callused thumb over his shoulder. “Some no-good scoundrels made aspersions about my little girl’s honor. Said no self-respectin’ female’d come into a saloon wearin’ buckskins. Natcherly, we had to set ‘em straight, and their pards took offense at the way we done it.”
“You damn near busted their heads open,” Burley said from behind Longarm.
Catamount Jack leaned over to peer around Longarm and frown at Burley. “Ain’t nobody insults my little girl without payin’ for it!”
Longarm turned to look at the local badge. “Did those witnesses you were talking about say whether or not the fight started the way Mr. Vermilion says it did?”
“Well,” Burley said grudgingly, “I reckon there could have been some comments made about the young lady before the trouble started. But that didn’t give them the right to try to tear up the whole saloon!”
“We can settle this right easy,” Catamount Jack proposed. “How much did the damages come to? I don’t mind payin’ for ‘em. Hell, ever’ good fight’s got its price.”
“I talked to Dave Kilroy, the owner of the saloon,” Burley said. “He put the damages at two hundred dollars.”
That figure sounded a bit inflated to Longarm, but he didn’t say anything. It wouldn’t matter anyway. From the looks of the ragged buckskins worn by Catamount Jack and Lucy, they likely didn’t have two dollars between them, let alone two hundred.
What Catamount Jack did next surprised both Longarm and Burley. The big man reached inside his shirt and pulled out a leather pouch. The clinking sound of coins came from the pouch as he opened the drawstring top. “Fair enough, I reckon,” said Catamount Jack as he spilled double eagles into the open palm of his other hand. He counted out ten of the twenty-dollar gold pieces and put the others back in the pouch, then extended his hand through the bars with the two hundred dollars. “There you go.”
Burley didn’t take the coins. “Where’d you get loot like that?” he asked suspiciously. “I don’t recall hearing about any bank robberies around here lately.”
“Bank robberies!” Catamount Jack repeated, sounding offended. “Hell, that’s honest-earned money, Marshal. Lucy and me been wolvin’ all summer up Montana way. The cattlemen up there still pay good money to get rid o’ wolves.”
“All right,” Burley said with a sigh. He took the double eagles from Catamount Jack. “There’s still the matter of the fine for disturbing the peace.”
Longarm inclined his head toward the men in the other cells. “Are you planning to fine all of those gents too, Marshal? Seems to me they were disturbing the peace just as much as Mr. Vermilion and his daughter.”
“Yeah!” Lucy suddenly said. “There wouldn’t’ve been no fight if they hadn’t cast ‘spersions on me.”
Burley stood there for a moment, a frown on his forehead and a grimace pulling at his mouth. “All right, I’ll drop the charges against everybody,” he said. “I suppose you want me to let you out of there now.”
“Well,” Catamount Jack said, his tone surprisingly mild, “I did pay for the damages we done.”
Burley took the ring of keys from his belt and opened the cell door, still making a face. Catamount Jack turned and held out a hand to his daughter. Lucy picked up her hat, jammed it back on her head, and stood up to join him. Longarm stepped back so both of them could leave the cell.
