“Are you listening, Custis?”
“I’m listening, Billy.” Longarm grunted once more, sort of to ensure that his point came across, and puffed sullenly on his smoke while the marshal spoke.
“I don’t suppose you follow the sporting accounts in the News,” Billy said by way of a preamble.
Longarm said nothing, just continued to imitate a puffer-belly smokestack.
“No, I didn’t really expect that you would. Well, I do, Custis. And I’ve noticed something. Do you remember that post office robbery in Las Vegas, New Mexico, two months ago?”
Longarm took the cheroot out of his mouth and gave the slightly soggy end of it an accusing glare, then stuffed it back into his jaw and grunted. It was an affirmation. Of sorts.
“There was a bank robbery in Springer, New Mexico, two weeks later and a payroll robbery three weeks after that. Do you recall reading anything about those?”
Longarm frowned in thought for a moment, then asked, “Federal payroll?”
“No, neither of those crimes was in our jurisdiction. The postal theft was, of course, but not the other two.”
“So why …?” Longarm almost forgot that he didn’t want to become interested in any of this, dammit. After all, it was so nice and cool and pleasant up in Leadville.
“Because I happened to notice a coincidence involving those crimes, Longarm. Except that I sincerely doubt there is anything remotely coincidental about them.”
In spite of himself, Longarm cleared his throat. And lifted an eyebrow.
“None of the newspapermen who covered the events made any connection, Custis, and the reports were published at different times … something to do with real news traveling faster than news about mere entertainments, I suppose … but I noted the locations first and checked the dates afterward.”
“Yes?”
“We seem to have a gang of robbers on the loose who are baseball fans,” Billy said.
“Pardon me?”
“Yes, well, that may not be the full story, of course.” Billy smiled and steepled his fingers under his chin while he peered closely at the tall deputy who no longer looked quite so sulky. “My point, Longarm, is that those robberies have been committed in the same communities and at approximately the same times as a series of baseball games.”
“Baseball games,” Longarm repeated.
“That is what I said, yes. A team of professional ball players from Austin, Texas, has been making an extended exhibition tour through New Mexico and the panhandle towns. They played in Clayton, New Mexico, two weeks ago and intend, if I understand their schedule correctly, to swing north into Kansas and then come west into Colorado.”
“Is this goin’ somewhere, boss?”
“Oh, it is indeed, my impatient friend. It is indeed.”
“Would you mind …?”
“May I be candid with you, Longarm?”
“Jeez, Billy, I wish you would.”
“I have a hunch.”
“You?”
“Me,” the marshal confirmed. “And, um, did I or did I not recently overhear you tell a young lady that you once were employed as a pitcher for the Chicago White Stockings?”
“Billy, c’mon. You might’ve heard me say such a thing. In fact I seem t’ recall something o’ the sort my own self. But, lord Billy, that don’t make it true. I mean … a man is permitted some small liberties when it comes t’ things said in the heat o’ battle. Jeez, Billy, the only thing I’ve ever pitched is woo. I wouldn’t know where t’ find the handle on a baseball.”
“Oh dear,” Billy said. He looked disappointed. No, Longarm decided, the boss looked … embarrassed. That was it. The man looked positively, absolutely and downright embarrassed about something here.
“Billy?”
“I am afraid,” the marshal said, “that I have already promised Douglas a second string pitcher for his team.”
“Boss,” Longarm said, “I think there is something that I’m missing in this picture.”
“Yes,” Vail agreed. “I’m afraid we’ve both made a few errors this time. Uh, no pun intended.”
Longarm blinked a curl of pale smoke out of his eyes.
Chapter 4
Longarm felt damn near naked as he stepped off the narrow gauge Plains and Pacific coach at Medicine Lodge, Kansas. He wore his usual .45 and carried a derringer in his watch pocket, but for the first time in a considerable while he’d been forced to leave his Winchester and well-worn old McClellan saddle behind.
Baseball players, after all, have scant need of saddles or of rifles.
Dammit, if there was any way Longarm could have gotten Billy to change his mind … But of course there hadn’t
