higher, gave another heave, and rolled over the railing to sprawl on the thick planks of the platform itself. His pulse was hammering wildly in his head, and his chest rose and fell hugely as he dragged air back into his lungs.
The train was off the trestle by now and was rolling across flat fields alongside the river. After a couple of minutes, Longarm was able to stand up. Recalling another job that had almost been the death of him, he said fervently, “Damn, I hate hanging off trains!”
He climbed rather unsteadily to his feet and looked around the platform for his hat. It was gone, of course, just as he had expected. No doubt it had sailed off into the Rio Grande. He hoped that the farmer who would no doubt fish it out of the river would enjoy having a snuff-brown, flat-crowned Stetson. It would be a lot worse for wear, by then, more than likely.
Longarm ran his fingers through his wind-tangled hair and took a couple more deep breaths. He tucked away the derringer in his vest pocket. He supposed he looked presentable enough. He went into the passenger car and headed for the senator’s compartment. Along the way, he looked at the passengers riding on the bench seats. Some were asleep, some read by the dim light of the lamps, others sat and smoked or simply sat. None of them gave him any more attention than an idle glance, and no one made his job any easier by jumping up and confessing to the attempt on his life. That came as no surprise.
Leon Mercer was alone in the compartment when Longarm tried the knob and found it unlocked, despite what he had told Padgett earlier. Mercer had several documents spread out on his lap. He looked up distractedly from his work and said, “Oh, it’s you, Marshal.”
“Damn right it’s me,” said Longarm. “Where’s the senator?”
“He went to use the, ah, facilities. He said he wouldn’t be gone long.”
Longarm bit back a curse. “I thought I told him to stay here in the compartment.”
Mercer shrugged and said mildly, “I gather that he didn’t have much choice in the matter.”
“All right, blast it. Which way did he go?”
“I believe it’s just at the near end of the next car.”
Longarm was still in the doorway of the compartment. He turned and started toward the door leading to the next car. It was only a few steps away, but before he could reach it, the door opened and Senator Padgett came bustling through. He stopped short when he saw Longarm standing there, an angry frown on his face.
“Hello, Marshal,” Padgett said.
“Thought I told you to stay in the compartment until I got back.” Longarm didn’t bother concealing his bad temper. His voice was curt.
Padgett began to frown as well. “I’ll thank you not to take that tone with me, sir,” he said. “I didn’t see any harm in answering the call of nature.” He put a hand to his stomach. “My digestion is not what it once was. One of the curses of advancing age, I suppose.”
“Maybe so, but I still wish you’d waited.”
“Well, no harm done. I’m fine. No one tried to kill me.”
“This time,” muttered Longarm.
“Granted.” Padgett seemed to notice for the first time that Longarm’s hat was gone. “You look a bit disheveled, Marshal. Is something wrong?”
Longarm shook his head. “I lost my hat while I was standing out on the platform,” he said. “Wind whipped it right off when we were going over that trestle. Last I saw of it, it was headed for the Rio Grande.”
Padgett chuckled, but said, “I’m sorry about your loss. I suppose you’ll be able to replace the hat in El Paso, though.”
“I reckon.” Longarm summoned up a rueful grin. “Wonder if Billy Vail would accept an expense voucher for the cost of a new one.”
“Knowing Marshal Vail as I do, I wouldn’t count on it.”
“Me neither. I suppose if all I lose is a hat, I’ll have come out all right.”
“Indeed. Now, if you’ll excuse me …”
Longarm had kept the senator jawing out here in the aisle long enough. He opened the door of the compartment again and stood aside. Padgett preceded him into the little room. Longarm stepped inside long enough to say, “These seats only make out into two bunks, so I’ll sleep outside on that bench right across from the door. Like I told you before, keep the door locked. Nobody’s going to bother you.”
“Your confidence makes my mind rest much easier, Marshal.” Longarm couldn’t tell if Padgett was being sarcastic or not. He thought the senator was sincere, but when a fella shaded the truth for a living, like most politicians did, it was hard to be sure about anything.
Once the door was closed and Longarm had heard the lock snap shut, he settled down on the bench he had pointed out to Padgett and Mercer. Since he had it to himself, he was able to partially stretch his legs out and put his head back. He wished he still had his hat so that he could tip it down over his eyes.
That wasn’t all he thought about. He replayed the attack in his head. Could Cy have followed him, clouted him over the head with something, then tried to push him off the train? It was possible, Longarm supposed. He hadn’t gotten a good enough look at his assailant in the darkness to know for sure how big the fella had been.
But there was someone else whose whereabouts were unaccounted for at the time of the attack, Longarm realized. With the door to the senator’s compartment closed, Miles Padgett could have turned the other direction after telling Mercer he was going to visit the facilities in the next car. Padgett could have stepped out there on that rear platform, seen Longarm standing there, and walloped him one. The question was—why would the senator do such a thing?
Considering why Longarm was on this train, he wasn’t going to rule out anything.
Sleep claimed him while he was pondering.
