“You did.”
“I must have been half asleep.”
“Nope, wide awake,” he told her. “And purrin’ beside me like a milk-fed kitten.”
“Well,” Diana said, knowing that he was teasing her. “I have said a lot of foolish things in my lifetime. And while I love you in bed, what I really need is sleep-“
“We’ll stay the night at the Paradise Hotel,” Longarm said. “I’m going to have to use a counterfeit hundred and get some change for travelin’, but the federal government can reimburse the hotel later.”
“Thanks,” Diana breathed with obvious relief.
Longarm normally took care of his horses first, but Diana looked so exhausted by the cold and the long trail that he took mercy on her and went to check into the hotel. The clerk gave them a room and didn’t say a word about the crisp counterfeit hundred-dollar bill, although Longarm saw that he gave it a pretty thorough inspection.
After taking Diana up to their room and seeing that a hot bath was on its way for them both, Longarm went back outside and took their horses to the town’s only real livery.
“Two dollars a day per horse,” the grumpy-looking old man said. “Paid in advance.”
“Sure thing,” Longarm said, paying the man and then adding another dollar, hoping to grease the old liveryman’s tongue. The extra dollar worked, as it generally did.
“Stranger, where you from?” the liveryman asked.
“Cheyenne,” Longarm said. “I’m looking for a friend of mine. A fella named Nathan Cox.”
The liveryman shook his head. “Must be a stranger too, ‘cause I never even heard of him, and I know everyone in Whiskey Creek.”
Longarm described Cox and, as he did so, could see a change come over the liveryman.
“Sorry,” the liveryman said, abruptly turning to leave, “but I got work to do.”
“But have you seen the man I described? He had at least six blooded Thoroughbreds and I’m sure he would have had to bring them here if he was passing through.”
“Well, then I guess he wasn’t passing through!” the liveryman said, unwilling to meet Longarm eye to eye.
“I think he was,” Longarm said, having no choice but to drag out his badge. “And as a lawman, I’m strongly suggesting that you be honest and tell me what happened here. Otherwise I might have to take you back to Denver.”
“On what charge?”
“Withholding important information relating to an outlaw wanted by the federal government.”
“All right,” the liveryman, Waite, finally said, looking whipped. “But, Marshal, I had no part in any of this and I want that understood from the start.”
“Fair enough. I just want to find Nathan Cox.”
“He’s gone,” the liveryman flatly stated. “He came in here with another young fella named Rolf Swensen. Swensen is just a would-be cowboy. A nobody. They were travelin’ together and the pair seemed friendly enough toward each other, though you’d be hard pressed to find bigger opposites.”
“Go on.”
“Well, Clyde Zolliver came in a couple days after they hit town and hooked up with a pair of whores.”
“Clyde, or Nathan Cox and this Swensen fellow?”
“Nathan and Rolf Swensen,” the old man said. “The dandy seemed to have all the money in the world. He wanted the best that Whiskey Creek could offer, which ain’t much. But the whores whose names were Teresa and Carole, they were pretty slick for a place like this and there were a lot of cowboys that got upset when all their time was bought up by that pair.”
“Then what happened?”
“Clyde Zolliver arrived and went after ‘em. The next thing I know, everyone was gone.”
Longarm thumbed back the brim of his hat. “What do you mean, gone?”
“Just what I said, Marshal! There was a big gunfight over at the Paradise Hotel. People ain’t saying much about it, but I gather that the kid gunned Clyde down in the hall. They say he was naked as a snake when he got drilled about five times. I guess it was a hell of a bloody battle.
Longarm hadn’t expected to hear anything like this. “So the kid killed Clyde Zolliver?” he asked.
“That’s right! The witnesses say that they were ordered back into their rooms in no uncertain terms. When they came out the next morning, Cox, the kid, and the two whores were all gone. Their horses were gone from this barn too.”
“They just … just vanished?”
“Sure. Why not? There’s no law in Whiskey Creek, and the weather was so bad that nobody even thought to go after them. I was well paid and they left a hundred dollars extra for a buckboard and a set of old harness. Must have harnessed one of their saddle horses and all skedaddled in the storm just before sunrise.”
“Well, I’ll be damned!” Longarm said.
“You may be damned,” Waite said, breaking into a self-satisfied grin, “but I’m happy. You see, I made two hundred dollars! ‘Course, some of it was for hay and grain. I fed them Thoroughbreds more than any animals had a right to eat while they were here. But the buckboard wasn’t worth but about fifty dollars and the harness another ten. So I made forty dollars clear profit on that deal and some extra on the horses. I hope Cox and the kid ride through again and we do the same thing all over.”
