seen the local jail a while earlier.
It was a place he did not particularly want to visit while dressed up like the athletic equivalent of a circus clown. An Austin Capitals uniform would call all too much attention to him, he was sure.
The jail, imposing structure that it was, had room enough inside for one six-by-eight cell, one undersized desk, one chair, and probably the smallest potbelly stove Longarm ever saw—a damned well useless item at this time of year—on a floor so crowded there would be no room for a coal scuttle in winter. Likely the man on duty would have to carry in fuel for the stove one piece at a time. There wouldn’t be space enough for it otherwise.
At the time of Longarm’s arrival the jail cell was occupied by a scruffy looking fellow with a three-day growth of beard, yellow teeth, and galluses holding up a pair of britches that were at least three sizes too big for him. The man—someone coming off a drunk, Longarm figured—was stretched out on the bottom of a pair of double-decker bunks and appeared to be sleeping. The “office” portion of the jail was empty.
Longarm stepped inside, looked quickly around—it didn’t take long—and started to back out.
“Something I can do for you, mister?”
The fellow in the cell hadn’t moved but his eyes were open, albeit barely.
“Sorry if I woke you,” Longarm said.
“I was already awake, thanks.”
“Yeah, well, I’m looking for the town marshal. Or police chief. Whatever you call him here.”
“Grand Exalted Ruler of All He Surveys would be nice, I think,” the fellow on the bunk said, still motionless and without any hint of a smile.
“Don’t like your marshal much, huh?” Longarm observed aloud.
“Actually I’m real fond of the SOB,” the man in the cell replied.
“You don’t sound it.”
“I’m allowed certain liberties in that regard.”
“You the town drunk?” Longarm asked.
The man grinned and sat up on the side of the bunk. “Nope. Town marshal.” He stood and pushed the cell door open. It hadn’t been locked. “More comfortable taking siesta in here than out there, that’s all. My name is Gene Darry. What can I do for you, mister?”
Longarm chuckled and introduced himself. “Sure, you’re the one they call Longarm, aren’t you?” Darry said. “Out of Denver?”
“That’s right.”
“No offense, but I never heard of you,” Darry said as he extended a hand to shake. He said it so deadpan and level that it took Longarm a second or two for it to sink in. Then he began to laugh. He thought he just might like Marshal Darry. Of course it remained to be seen if the fellow was any kind of lawman. Or if he needed to be.
“Now,” Darry said, his voice crisp and businesslike for the first time, “what is it I can do for you, deputy?”
Chapter 7
“Look,” Longarm said when he and Darry were done making plans for the day of the ball game, “I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t say anything ‘bout this to anybody else. In particular I don’t want anybody connected with the ball club t’ know about it.”
“What about the team manager?” the marshal asked. “You said he is helping you. Surely he’s in the know.”
“Not even him,” Longarm confirmed.
“I don’t understand. The man is a friend of your boss and is taking you onto the team. Surely you trust him.”
Longarm shrugged. “I trust everybody, Gene. Up to a point. The thing is, this young fella is the son-in-law of a good friend o’ my boss. That’s a thin soup the way I see it. I mean, good girls been known to marry bad men from time t’ time. And good men been known to make bad judgments when there’s friendships an’ kinships involved.
“Not that I suspect Douglas McWhortle. I sure as hell don’t. But it occurs t’ me that as long as I’m off someplace with that baseball team, I ain’t gonna be where the action is. Which will be at a bank or post office or some such place in the town where the games are being played. So a smart thief, once he found out there was gonna be a lawman close by, would want to make sure that lawman was where he could be seen an’ accounted for. You know?”
“That makes sense,” Darry agreed.
“Which is why I’d rather you never said anything except to the boys you’re putting on watch that day. An’ not to tell them until the last minute if it’s all the same to you.”
The town marshal nodded.
“As for McWhortle, I truly don’t suspect him of being anything but the nice young fella he seems. On t’other hand, I don’t figure to take any chances that aren’t downright necessary.”
“Sounds reasonable to me, Longarm. I’ll keep shut about it. Even to the boys on your ball club.” Darry smiled. “By the way, you got any suggestions which way a man should place his money come Saturday?”
“What happens Saturday?” Longarm asked.
Darry gave him an odd look. “That’s the day they’ll play the ball game, of course.”
“Oh. Nobody mentioned that to me before. As for who you oughta bet on, that prob’ly depends on do you want t’ lay your money down for politics or for profit.”
