printing press, a fella could have that much again and more in a matter of a few days.” He let out a low whistle. “Most men would say a chance like that was worth almost anything. It’d even be worth killing for.”
That was what Longarm was afraid of.
The peskiest thing in the world, Longarm thought the next morning, was to have something buzzing around in the back of your head, an idea that wouldn’t quite come into focus, yet persisted in prodding your brain.
It was just because he was tired, he told himself. After going on the raid and then staying up all night to guard the plates with Jim Harrelson, he was naturally groggy. That was the reason he kept thinking he had seen something the night before that wasn’t quite right.
When he and Harrelson got back to the hotel, they had arranged for Seeley and Truelove to have the connecting room next to theirs, so when morning came, Longarm carried the valise into that room and dumped it on the dresser.
“There you go, boys,” he said to the two deputies, who were just getting up. “You can keep an eye on this while Jim and me get some sleep.”
“When does that northbound come through here?” asked Seeley, whose wounded arm bore a more professional bandage now.
“Five o’clock, if my recollection of the schedule is right,” Longarm replied.
“I’ll be glad to be on it and headed back to Denver,” Truelove said.
“You and me both,” Longarm said. With a wave, he went back through the connecting door. Harrelson was already snoring from his side of the bed. Longarm had never cared for having to share a bunk with another fella, but he was too worn out to be real particular at the moment. He took off his boots, vest, and gunbelt and crawled between the sheets. He was asleep a minute after his head hit the pillow.
“A horse race?” Harrelson said with a frown. “You’re going to a horse race?”
It was early afternoon, and Longarm had slept for six hours, long enough to refresh him without leaving him groggy. He was standing in front of the mirror above the room’s dressing table, adjusting the string tie around his neck. Harelson was still in bed, sitting up with his graying hair sticking up in spikes from sleep.
“Don’t worry, Jim, I’ll be back in plenty of time to catch that train,” Longarm said. “I just can’t pass up a good horse race.”
Harrelson grunted. “Want to get a bet down on one of the nags, is that it?”
“Nope. I just like to see the ponies run.” Longarm shrugged into his coat and picked up his hat. He stepped over to the bed and clapped a hand on Harrelson’s shoulder. “See you later, Jim. Why don’t you step over next door with Bud and Horace while I’m gone, help ‘em keep an eye on those plates?”
“Yeah, I reckon that’s what I’ll do,” Harrelson said sourly. “While you’re off enjoying yourself,” he added.
Longarm just grinned. “Get yourself something to eat first. I did.”
In fact, it had been while he was sitting in the hotel dining room downstairs that he had picked up a newspaper and read about the race being held this afternoon at Albuquerque’s spanking-new track. Horses from all over, even from as far away as Kentucky, had been brought in for this event. Albuquerque was now part of the western racing circuit, along with El Paso, Tucson, Carson City, Reno, Cheyenne, and Denver. According to the article Longarm read while waiting for the food he had ordered, the horses and their owners and trainers would spend the summer traveling from city to city, taking part in races at each stop. It all sounded pretty interesting to Longarm, and he was going to take in the race in Albuquerque while he had the chance.
He left Harrelson in the hotel room and went back downstairs. One of the porters in the lobby told him where to find the race track and also where he could rent a buggy, since the track was out on the western edge of town, too far to walk.
By the time Longarm reached the racetrack, quite a few people were already there. Buggies and more elaborate carriages were parked in the field next to the track, along with buckboards and ranch wagons. Saddle horses were tied to long hitch racks. Obviously, this race was drawing spectators not only from town but also from most of the ranches in the surrounding area. Some of the spreads were so far out that the families who lived there had probably started into Albuquerque the day before.
Longarm found a place to park the rented buggy and tied the horse to a post. He could see the grandstands on both sides of the track, and they were quickly filling up. He was glad he hadn’t waited until later to come out here. The race had generated a lot of interest, and it was clear the stands were going to be full. Longarm lit a cheroot and let his long legs carry him toward the closest grandstand.
He gave his ticket to a fellow in a little building next to the gate and strolled inside with the rest of the crowd. Just as he had thought, there was a wide variety of folks in attendance. He saw townies in store-bought suits and their ladies in fine gowns that had to be stifling hot under the blistering sun, as well as cowboys in range clothes and wide-brimmed Stetsons. Ranchers and their wives, in their Sunday-go-to-meeting best, rubbed shoulders with fancy-suited dudes who were most likely professional gamblers. That was one of the things Longarm liked about any sizable gathering here on the frontier. You were liable to see just about every kind of people there was.
He wasn’t prepared, however, for the two individuals who caught his eye as he found a seat and settled down onto the bench.
Two young women were walking along the concourse between the stands and the track. One wore a riding skirt, an open-throated man’s shirt, and a flat-crowned brown hat with waves of blond hair sweeping out from under it. The other was attired in a sky-blue gown with a tiny, matching hat perched on an elaborate upsweep of blond curls. The differences between them began and ended with their clothes. Other than that, they seemed to be identical.
For an instant, Longarm wondered if the strain of the past twenty-four hours had him seeing double. Even at a distance, he could tell that there wasn’t a dime’s worth of difference between the lovely features of the two young women. Even their figures, slender but amply curved in the right places, were the same. Identical twins, Longarm thought. That wasn’t something you saw every day.
And you sure as hell didn’t run into twins as beautiful as these two very often.
Longarm watched as the two women went over to one of the horses that had been brought out in preparation for the race. A rider in a bright red shirt and tight white pants was on the animal’s back, controlling it with a taut rein as it tried to prance around nervously. The blonde in the riding skirt came up to the horse and patted it on the
