…”
“Yeah,” Longarm said sadly.
“Custis? Tyler? What is it?” Maddy asked.
“The truth, my dear, is that unsubstantiated testimony, even that of a deputy marshal like our friend here, is unlikely to sway the opinion of a judge. In particular our judge. We already know his feelings in this area. And the governor—I doubt he would want to risk angering the political leaders of this entire end of the territory on the word of a mere deputy. Not when the local leaders are known to have firm friendships in Washington City. I am very much afraid, Mrs. Bell, that it would take something much more substantial than Deputy Long’s inexpert opinion for the governor to conclude that your father continues in good health somewhere at an as yet unknown locale.”
“That’s true,” Longarm agreed. “But … dammit, I ain’t making no promises. We all know better than that. But Maddy, where’d you say that crazy letter o’ yours came from?”
She opened her handbag and produced the tattered and much soiled slip of paper.
“You might not be able t’ convince a judge or the territorial governor o’ anything with your story about those teeth,” Longarm said to Tyler, “but you’ve made a believer outa me. For whatever that’s worth.”
“Yes?”
“Maddy said it herself a little while ago. I gotta go right past the Medicine Bows on my way back t’ Denver. It won’t hurt nothing if I stop an’ see if I can find my old friend Windy down there. The one thing that’s absolutely guaranteed t’ make the governor cancel that execution would be t’ walk into the capitol building with Windy in tow.” Longarm grinned. “You can’t hardly have a murder if you don’t have a victim, y’know.”
“Custis, if you can save Gary …” Madelyn was weeping now, her face streaked with shiny tear tracks.
“I know. An’ I’ll do everything I can t’ save him. You know that.”
“Yes. Thank you.”
“How do you intend to go about this, Deputy?” Overton asked.
Longarm shrugged. “Should be pretty simple. I’ll head south on the coach tomorrow noon. If Windy is in the Medicine Bows he oughta be easy enough t’ find. If I do find him I’ll grab hold o’ him an’ take him to Cheyenne even if I gotta cuff and drag him. I can take him in as a material witness in a criminal case if nothing else. I don’t need a writ for that. As a sworn officer o’ the court, which technically I am, I can take him as far as the nearest federal magistrate on nothing more than my own say-so.”
Overton nodded. “Are you familiar with the people and the politics of Cheyenne, sir?”
“Not particularly,” Longarm admitted. “I’ve spent my share o’ time there an’ know some of the folks involved, but nothing stronger ‘n that.”
“Then may I make a suggestion?”
“I’ll listen t’ anything you want to say. No promises beyond that, but I’ll surely listen,” Longarm offered.
“I feel a strong moral obligation about this, Deputy. And I would not want anything to go wrong at the last moment. Would it be all right with you, sir, if I were to accompany you to look for Rupert Williams and, if that search is successful, ensure that the hanging is stopped?”
“It’s fine by me, Counselor.”
“And to tell you the truth, Long, I intend to make another appeal to the governor based on your testimony—or rather your knowledge—about those teeth even if the search for Rupert Williams proves fruitless. I know it will likely do no good. But I have to make the attempt. One way or another, sir, we simply must have that hanging canceled. I believed it before and now I know beyond doubt. Gary Lee Bell is an innocent man. If he hangs, our system of justice will be irreparably soiled. And I cannot permit that to happen, sir. I simply cannot.”
And damned if Tyler Overton didn’t sound like he really meant it, Longarm silently conceded. Why, given a chance, Longarm might actually go and vote for the fellow if and when such a time were to come.
In the meantime, though, there was the little problem of finding Windy Williams and proving that Gary Lee Bell wasn’t the murderer everyone believed him to be. Longarm shook the fat lawyer’s hand and once again bade him good night.
“I’ll see you on the coach tomorrow, Counselor.
“So you shall, Deputy.”
Longarm took Maddy by the elbow and led her out into the night and through the wet, ankle-deep slush that the recent snow was turning into.
Chapter 18
Jesse, the stagecoach driver, dropped the mule’s hoof with a loud groan and stood upright, arching his back and grimacing. Longarm understood quite well. There is nothing quite so likely to send darts of pain through a man’s lower back as working on the feet of a horse or mule. The fool critters generally insist on putting their weight onto the man who is holding the foot, all the weight that would normally be on that foot and then some. It is a habit that seems to be bred into the four-footed bastards regardless of breed or training. All of them do it, and if there was a cure for it Longarm had never heard of it. A man’s fortune would damn sure be assured if he could devise a way to train draft stock to quit leaning on people working with their feet.
That hadn’t happened yet, though, so Jesse was stuck with the problem. He dropped that foot, sighed heavily, wiped off the hooked-shaped bit of wrought iron he was using for a hoof pick, and then bent to pick up yet another foot. Six mules. Twenty-four feet to keep cleaned and healthy. For without strong, healthy feet the most willing of mules isn’t going to pull worth a damn. And it is the driver’s responsibility to see to the welfare of his stock. No one else’s.
Jesse laboriously completed the task of picking each hoof so that it was free of impacted stones or pea gravel, then stepped back and allowed George and the Talking Water hostler to lead the harnessed mules into position and fasten them into the traces ready for the long downhill run—more or less—to distant Bitter Creek.
Longarm waited until the last moment, then tossed the butt of a cheroot aside and climbed into the stagecoach with a bare nod in Madelyn Williams Bell’s direction.
The simple truth of the matter was that he was feeling downright embarrassed with the situation on the
