“Got out last summer.”
“And you were there at least four years?”
“Closer to five,” Longarm lied.
“For what?”
“Killing a man over a deck of cards as poorly marked as the ones that we were just playing with.”
Randy blinked. “If you knew they were marked, why did you play?”
“I didn’t have much choice, now, did I?”
“No,” Randy said, “I guess not. Is Custis your real name?”
“Yep.”
“I doubt it,” Randy said, then quickly added, “But I’m not calling you a liar.”
“Sounded like it.”
“Let it go,” Randy warned. “If you kill or whip me, my pa and my brother will make you wish you’d never been born.”
“Is that how it goes with you, kid? You just rely on your pa and big brother to back up your play?”
Randy was stung by the insult and he whirled on Longarm. “Are you forgetting that I just had a gun in my hand aimed at your heart and that I could have shot you?”
“Yeah,” Longarm admitted, “I did forget. Thanks for not drilling me. But why didn’t you-“
“I don’t kill men unless I have to.” Randy relaxed. “And besides, I like that buckskin.”
“Then let’s go talk to George about him,” Longarm suggested.
Ten minutes later, they were rousing George out of a deep sleep. The Indian fumbled for his gun, but Longarm pinned his wrists to the ground, saying, “It’s all right, George. It’s me, Custis.”
The Paiute shook free and sat up. He started to speak, then saw Randy and changed his mind.
“This is Randy and he’s all right,” Longarm said in the way of an introduction. “He likes that buckskin and wants to know if the horse is broke to ride.”
“No.”
“Damn,” Randy swore. “I’m not sure that I want to break him. Leastways, not in front of the others. If I get bucked off and land on my head, I’ll never hear the end of it.”
“You don’t have to buy the horse,” Longarm said, wanting to give the kid an honorable out. “Why don’t you just think about it tonight and then we can talk in the morning before George and me leave?”
“Sounds good,” Randy said. He walked over to the corral and draped his arms across the top rail. He watched the buckskin for several minutes and then he said, “That horse is about two hundred pounds light. How old do you think he is, George?”
“Six, maybe seven.”
“He looks younger,” Randy said. “You can tell by his teeth and we’ll have a look at ‘em in the morning. I may still buy him from you.”
“That’d be dandy,” Longarm said, “seeing as how I’m almost dead broke now.”
“This hasn’t worked out so good for you, has it?”
“Nope.”
Randy frowned. “Let me tell you something, Custis, or whatever your name is. You’re just damned lucky—far luckier than you can imagine—that you’re still alive. And my advice is to get out of Helldorado as fast as you possibly can.”
“Thanks.”
“Here,” Randy said, dragging out a few rumpled dollars. “I’m going to buy your horse for ten dollars because he doesn’t belong in the company of those sorry mustangs. And if you’re gone before daylight, just leave the buckskin in the corral and I’ll take my chances with him tomorrow.”
“Sounds more than fair,” Longarm said, taking the money. “Thanks.”
“Just leave Helldorado while you can,” Randy said again, this time to them both before he walked away.
Longarm watched the kid go back into the saloon. Turning to George, he said, “That kid sure doesn’t belong with this crowd of thieves and cutthroats.”
“Don’t trust kid,” George warned. “Blood thicker than liquor.”
“Yeah,” Longarm said, not sure that he got the Paiute’s meaning. “But that kid deserves a chance to get out of this mess before he is brought to a sad end.”
George didn’t say anything, and Longarm walked over to the corral and stared at the buckskin. It was the one good horse in the band, although it was thin and you had to look beyond its current condition to see its true quality.
“The kid has a good eye for horseflesh, George.”
“Maybe.”
“And maybe you should ride out tonight.”
