“Why are you going to a hellhole like Gold Mountain, Marshal?” the shotgun guard asked.
“I’m to take a killer and bank robber named Ford Oakley into custody.”
“Should have guessed,” Ernie said. “Ford got hisself all drunked up, which is why he landed in jail. The marshal of Gold Mountain, Abe Wheeler, found Ford passed out in the whorehouse. Handcuffed and threw him in jail hopin’ for that federal reward, you know.”
“I see,” Longarm said. “What kind of man is he?”
“Ford Oakley, or the town marshal?”
Longarm knew that he’d find out soon enough for himself, but it was always valuable to learn other people’s impressions.
“Both.”
“Ford Oakley is a bad’un,” the guard said, shaking his head. “He’s a big sonofabitch, about your size, Marshal. But he’s mean and when he gets drunk, he’ll kill anyone that’s unfortunate enough to get in his way.”
“And he’s a bank robber,” the driver added over the din of the road. “Everyone in Gold Mountain knew that he was riding off and robbing banks when he wasn’t working his own claim. Hell, the man was always throwing money around.”
“Marshal,” Ernie said, “if you take Ford Oakley out of that jail, you had better figure you’ll have to kill him.”
“Why is that?”
“Because he’s always said that he won’t go to trial. He’s the kind of fella that would rather go down fighting.”
“I see.”
“And another thing you need to understand,” Ray said, “is that we’d sure prefer that you hauled his ornery ass outa Gold Mountain on top of a horse instead of buying him a ticket to jail on this stagecoach.”
“Well,” Longarm said, wanting to be reasonable but needing to be firm, “as a matter of fact I will be taking him back to Elko on this stagecoach. And from there we will board the train and I’ll deliver him to Denver. Ford Oakley murdered a woman in Denver and robbed a federal bank in Colorado, and that’s where he’ll be tried and then hanged.”
“Shit,” the guard said. “I sure don’t want Ford on this coach. He might blame us for his troubles.”
“I wouldn’t lose any sleep over it. I’ve only lost one prisoner in all my years as a peace officer.”
“How’d that happen, Marshal?” the driver asked.
“He had friends that I thought were my friends. They helped my prisoner escape.”
“Did you ever recapture him?”
“Nope,” Longarm said, “but I did kill him.”
“What about those friends of his?” Ray asked.
“They’re still in prison, last I heard.”
“Well,” the driver yelled, “Ford Oakley hasn’t got many friends, but I still wish that you’d rent a couple of horses and just take him back to Elko by yourself.”
“Sorry,” Longarm said, “but I bought a round-trip ticket over to Gold Mountain and I’ll be taking Oakley back to Elko on this stage.”
“Then maybe,” Ray growled, “I’ll just take a few days off if and when you get Ford.”
“Maybe I will too,” the shotgun guard said. “It ain’t healthy to cross Ford. Ain’t a damn bit healthy.”
“His days are numbered,” Longarm promised. “And once he’s in my custody, he’s on his way to the gallows. It sounds to me like he should have swung from a hangman’s noose a long time ago.”
“He should have for certain,” the driver agreed. “But I tell you something, I’d not only handcuff him, but I’d shackle that man in leg irons, I’d blindfold him, and do every other damn thing I could think of to keep him from breaking loose and cutting my throat.”
Longarm nodded gravely. In truth, he was puzzled by the unexpectedly high level of fear and anxiety that Ford Oakley seemed to instill.
“Marshal, do you have a wife or any kids?” Ernie asked after a long silence.
“No. Why do you ask?”
“Just wondering,” the guard said. “That’s all.”
Longarm frowned. “Tell me about the marshal of Gold Mountain.”
“Ain’t a whole lot to tell you except that he’s old and worthless,” the driver answered. “Everyone figured him to retire, but capturing Ford Oakley has changed all that. Right now, he’s an odds-on favorite to get reappointed.”
“It was that big a deal, huh?”
“Biggest thing to happen to Gold Mountain in years,” the driver said. “And maybe the most foolish.”
“Course,” the shotgun guard added, “the marshal has a deputy that was buckin’for his job. The deputy ain’t too happy about Ford Oakley’s capture either.”
“I don’t suppose,” Longarm said.
