the senator, Custis? Has there been some sort of trouble?”
The unexpected questions had him off balance for a second, but he recovered his wits quickly. Maybe he had been wrong about Julie’s motivation for what she had done. Maybe she figured that while he was still grateful for the French lesson she’d given him, she could get some information from him in return.
But why? Surely she didn’t have anything to do with the job that had brought him aboard this train.
Nothing was impossible, Longarm reminded himself. Unlikely sometimes, but not impossible.
Those thoughts flashed through his mind in an instant, so there was only a slight hesitation before he answered, “Trouble? Not that I know of. I reckon that’s why I’m here, just to make sure there ain’t any.”
“Well, I feel much better knowing that you’ll be traveling with us for a while.” Her smile was dazzling in the moonlight. “I think I’m really going to enjoy your company.”
“The feeling’s mutual, Miss Julie,” he assured her.
“I have to be getting back to our compartment now. Janice is probably wondering why I’ve been gone so long.” She laughed again. “She’d certainly be surprised if she knew what that breath of fresh air I went out for turned into. Surprised—and disappointed. She’d wish that she could have been here too.”
The image that conjured up had Longarm’s legs feeling a little shaky again. He gave Julie Cassidy a quick hug, then stood there on the platform and watched her go back into the other car. They were damned lucky no one had interrupted them a few minutes earlier. That would have made for a mighty awkward situation, he thought.
He fished a cheroot from the pocket of his vest and chewed on it as he considered the questions Julie had asked him. He had tried to keep the attempt on Senator Padgett’s life as quiet as he could, but it was possible Julie had heard something about it. She wouldn’t know the whole story, though, which would explain why she had tried to pump him. But what business was it of hers if somebody took a few potshots at a politician?
Maybe Julie wasn’t thinking of Padgett as a politician at all, but rather as a rival racehorse owner. That could explain her interest.
Plenty of questions but no real answers yet … Longarm was used to that, maddening though it could be at times. He was just going to have to wait and see what happened.
In the meantime, something that Leon Mercer had said earlier still interested him. Longarm made his way back through the train, heading for the baggage cars. He wanted to see if Mercer had been right about the jockeys.
“Three beautiful little ladies, boys,” Cy was saying as Longarm opened the door to the baggage car. “That means the pot’s mine again.” He leaned forward to rake in the bills and coins piled in the center of the blanket that had been spread out on the floor of the car.
There was an open space in the center of the car with a narrow aisle leading to it. The rest of the room was taken up by the bags of the passengers. A dozen men were crowded around the blanket, but only half of them were playing cards; the others were just watching. Like Cy, all the other men were short and slender. The biggest of them would only make about two thirds of Longarm.
That made him feel rather large and gawky as he came up to them and nodded pleasantly. “Howdy, fellas,” he said. “I heard there was a game back here.”
“No room for any outsiders,” Cy said curtly. He took a flask from inside his coat, uncorked it, and swallowed a healthy swig of whatever was inside. After wiping the back of his hand across his mouth, he glared up at Longarm and went on. “You big galoots think you can just bull your way in anywhere, don’t you?”
“No call to get riled,” Longarm told him, making an effort to keep his own tone mild. He could tell that Cy was drunk. “I ain’t one to push in where I ain’t wanted.”
“It’s not that we don’t want you to play, Marshal,” said one of the other jockeys. “There’s just not room.”
“And if there’s not enough room for us short-growed little runts,” added Cy, “there’s sure as hell no place for a big bastard like you.”
Longarm’s jaw clenched a little. Surrounded by his fellow jockeys, with a few slugs of Who-Hit-John inside him, Cy was completely different from the way he had been at the racetrack. Longarm could see it plainly on Cy’s young face: The jockey was feeling that while he might have to put up with his employer’s bullying, he didn’t have to take shit from anybody else.
Longarm held up his hands, palm out. “Didn’t mean to cause a ruckus. I’ll just back on out of here, boys-“
“Boys!” Cy came to his feet as he angrily repeated Longarm’s word. “We’re not boys! We’re grown men, no matter how little you think we are.”
“You’re looking for trouble where there ain’t none, Cy,” Longarm told him. “I already said that if you fellas don’t want me here, I’ll go on about my business.”
Truth to tell, the other jockeys didn’t seem that disturbed by Longarm’s presence. Cy was the only one so far in his cups, though. He came toward Longarm, the constant motion of the train making him stumble slightly. With an easy, athletic grace that seemed unaffected by the liquor he had drunk, he caught his balance.
“I’m mighty damned tired of you gents who think you’re better’n me just because you’re taller and weigh more. What do you think of that, Mr. High-and-Mighty Marshal?” Cy was close enough now to prod Longarm in the chest with a finger.
Longarm had been accosted by drunks before, often enough to know that such hombres were usually more annoying than dangerous. A percentage of the time, however, it was unwise to ignore their potential threat, and that percentage was large enough to make Longarm alert. As far as he could tell, Cy wasn’t armed; none of the jockeys seemed to be, unless they had hideout guns or knives. Nor was Longarm worried about Cy taking a swing at him. But if all twelve of the jockeys jumped him, that fracas could get a mite tricky.
Luckily, most of the men didn’t seem inclined to share Cy’s belligerence. In fact, only a couple of them had tensed and leaned forward, as if they intended to jump into the fight if one broke out. Longarm muttered, “The hell with this. I ain’t got time for it.” He turned, intending to leave the baggage car and make his way back to Senator Padgett’s compartment.
Behind him, Cy let out a whoop. The jockey leaped on Longarm’s back, wrapping his legs around the lawman’s waist. He circled Longarm’s neck with his left arm and began pounding his right fist against the side of Longarm’s head. “I’ll show you!” Cy shouted. “I’m not scared of you just because you’re bigger!”
