Longarm darted forward, trying to get between Padgett and the other men. The senator’s fist brushed the side of his head, making his ear sting. Longarm ignored that and lowered his shoulder, driving into the chest of the Mexican and knocking the man back against his companion. Both men went down. Longarm jerked around and barked, “Get out of here! Now!” at Padgett and Mercer. Mercer was already tugging frantically on the senator’s arm, urging him to run.
“Damn it, this is my fight!” protested Padgett.
“Not any more! Now git!”
Longarm didn’t have time to continue arguing. One of the Mexicans was back on his feet, and Longarm saw the flicker of a knife in his hand. He ducked back against the bar as the blade lanced out at him like the tongue of a snake. As the Mexican slashed at him again, Longarm grabbed the bottle of tequila that still sat on the bar and used it to block the knife. The blade scraped off the thick glass, then Longarm brought the bottle down hard on the man’s wrist. With a yelp of pain, the man dropped the knife.
From the corner of his eye, Longarm saw Mercer prodding the reluctant Padgett out of the cantina and felt a surge of relief. At least the senator wasn’t going to get himself killed over some stupid, senseless argument.
Of course, he might not be able to say the same for himself, Longarm realized, because the second charro was back on his feet, and the man was reaching for the pistol in that tied-down holster. He was fast too.
Longarm slowed him down a little by flipping the bottle at him. The man had to put up an arm to bat it aside. That gave Longarm the chance to reach his own gun. He palmed out the .44 and brought it up level in one smooth motion. “I wouldn’t,” he said coldly as the Mexican’s hand touched the butt of his gun.
One of the three white cowboys, who had watched the whole fracas from the table, let out a whistle of admiration. “Whoo-eee! That fella’s faster on the draw than Marshal Earp down at Tombstone!”
Longarm had never had any interest in being known as a fast gun. He was fast enough on the draw to have stayed alive this long, and that was all he cared about. Now, as the Mexican slowly moved his hand away from his gun, Longarm nodded and said, “I’m obliged to you for seeing the light of reason, old son. Neither one of us has any business dying over what some loudmouthed blowhard has to say.”
“You know this amigo of yours is-“
“Is damned hard to swallow sometimes,” Longarm finished with a nod. “I sure do. And he ain’t really my amigo. But I have to look out for him anyway.”
The two Mexicans exchanged a glance that told Longarm they understood what he meant. It was his job to stand between Padgett and whatever trouble came up, even trouble of the senator’s own making, and they could respect him for doing just that. The one who was holding the sore wrist that Longarm had cracked with the bottle rasped, “Do not let him come in here again.”
“You don’t have to worry about that,” Longarm assured him. “I reckon he’s had enough local color to last him for a while.”
At least, Longarm damned well hoped so.
He holstered his gun, but he kept a close eye on the gents at the bar until he was out of the cantina. Squinting against the bright sunlight, he walked quickly toward the hotel. He was still plenty angry at Padgett for provoking the confrontation, even though no one had been hurt seriously. It was just a matter of luck that no one had gotten killed.
Going straight to the senator’s room, Longarm rapped on the door. Mercer opened it almost immediately, as if they had been waiting for him. The pallor on the face of the senator’s assistant was even deeper than usual.
“There you are, Marshal,” Mercer said. “We were afraid you might have been killed-“
“No thanks to your boss that I wasn’t,” Longarm snapped as he shouldered past Mercer. The smaller man got out of his way and shut the door behind him. Longarm faced Padgett, who stood near the window smoking a cigar. “What was the idea, Senator? You trying to start a war with Mexico? Or did you just decide it was time to start acting like an asshole?”
Padgett’s face darkened redly. “By God, I don’t have to take that kind of talk from you, Long!”
“The hell you don’t.” Longarm’s anger got the best of him, and he stepped forward and prodded Padgett in the chest with a finger. “You acted like you wanted to start that fracas, and I want to know why. Maybe you figured that I’d jump in—hell, you had to know I would!—and what you really wanted was to get me killed!”
Padgett stared at him, eyes wide with disbelief. “Why in heaven’s name would I want you dead, Marshal?”
Longarm caught himself just in time. He almost blurted out, Maybe you’ve finally figured out why I’m really here. Instead, he said, “You’ve made it pretty clear you don’t think there’s any reason for me to keep riding hard on you.”
“But I’d hardly try to arrange things so that you’d be killed just because of that!”
Longarm had to admit the senator was right: That made a mighty feeble motive. He said, “You’ve been a little jealous right from the start of all the attention those Cassidy sisters have been paying me.”
“Good Lord! I’m a married man, Marshal. I couldn’t risk my reputation—my very career—by becoming romantically involved with women young enough to be my daughters!”
“Plenty of politicos have done that very thing, and lived to regret it,” Longarm pointed out.
Padgett looked distinctly uncomfortable. “Yes, I know, but I … I could never do such a thing, Marshal. You see, I … I love my wife. I may flirt with other women, but I’ve never been unfaithful to her.”
He was so obviously embarrassed by the admission that Longarm found himself believing it. Of course, that didn’t really change anything, since Longarm could think of only one really good reason for Padgett to want him dead, and the Cassidy sisters had nothing to do with it. Padgett might still be mixed up in that other matter. But there was an equal chance that he was innocent.
“All right,” Longarm said. “Sorry I accused you, Senator.”
“I realize I used very poor judgment in my remarks in that cantina-“
“You sure as blazes did,” Longarm confirmed grimly.
