“Oh, he’s a real special guest. Tried four times to kill me.
“Did he?” Fay asked with a straight face.
Longarm chuckled.
“Four times, huh? What’s the matter, Longarm? Are you getting as slow as I am lately?”
“You’d think so, wouldn’t you, me letting a little simp like him make four tries before I could catch him at it. Anyway, both of these will be facing federal charges before we give the states an’ territories a crack at ‘em.”
“And judging from the fact that we are continuing to stand on a railroad platform instead of heading for the comforts of my jail, I take it you want to burden me with their care while you go off and play somewhere?” Fay guessed.
“Something on that order, Bill, yeah. I’ll sign a voucher for you so you can bill the Justice Department for holding ‘em.”
“In that case, since there seems to be something in it for me, I will consider granting your petition for relief.” He winked at Tyler. “Thought I’d throw a little legal-sounding language in there for you, Counselor. We like visitors to Bosler to feel at home while they’re here.”
Overton laughed.
“Seriously, Bill,” Longarm said. “Don’t trust neither of these two. They’re cold killers, the both of them. Keep them locked down no matter how they complain. Me and Tyler won’t be gone long. Don’t take no chances with this pair until we get back.”
“Mind if I ask where you’re off to?”
Longarm explained where they were going. And why.
Fay looked Tyler over rather carefully for a moment, then asked, “I don’t mean to imply anything personal, Mr. Overton, but how are you when it comes to fast horses?”
“Slow,” the lawyer admitted. “But I fall off them pretty good.”
“I kinda thought that might be so. Longarm, you know I’d never butt in where I don’t belong.”
“Leopard changin’ its spots, Bill?”
“… but if you’re interested, I just happen to have bought myself one hellfire fast team and buggy recently. Matched bays built like a pair of snakes with legs on them. Lotta skinny necks and hams no bigger than a decent housecat might have. They’re ugly as sin, both of them. But fast? You’d best tie your hat in place and use a strong cord to do it. Best of all, they got stamina that you won’t believe. They’ll get you to the diggings before nightfall else go ahead and kill them for trying. If they can’t make the run that quick they’re no use to me anyhow.”
Longarm knew better than to believe that. Exactly. But he thoroughly appreciated the generosity that lay behind the statement.
“Damn, Bill, you keep on like this an’ you’re gonna make me feel bad about all the things I’ve said behind your back.”
Marshal Fay threw his head back and roared. “Longarm, let me get these prisoners locked in nice and snug and then we’ll put you fellows on the road south.”
Chapter 38
The team was as good as their owner claimed. Maybe better. It was still daylight when Longarm and Tyler Overton reached Chinaman’s Knob. Still daylight, but barely. There was a pale salmon tint behind the imposing bulk of Medicine Bow Peak to the west, and beyond that lay the Sweetwater Basin and the Red Desert. Here, though, the country was wooded if not wet, and totally unlike the sere, dry plains below.
Chinaman’s Knob was the latest in a succession of mining booms to bring mineral-crazed seekers of wealth flocking into the mountains.
It was said that a Chinaman had indeed made this latest discovery. It was also said that the Knob named in his honor was also the place where he was buried. After all, what right did some yellow-hued Celestial have when it came to staking out a minerals claim on good American soil.
All of that, however, was rumor, and Longarm had neither the time, the inclination, nor the authority to inquire into the truth that might be contained therein.
There was no public livery as such, but he located a feed sales barn with a smithy attached and a corral out back where the farrier’s four-legged customers could wait to be accommodated. For a dollar and a half—in advance, courtesy of Mr. Overton—the smith agreed to grain, water, and house Bill Fay’s team of bays.
“Strikes me as funny somebody would pay that much to take care of a pair as ugly as them things,” the smith offered. After, it should be noted, he accepted the cash payment from Overton.
“You wouldn’t have a team you’d like t’ run against them, would you?” Longarm asked.
“You got to be kidding. Them? My grays would gag those bays with their dust.” He pointed toward a set of stalls where a pair of obviously pampered grays with short, barrel-shaped bodies were munching bright hay.
“We got no time to make you a match, but the next time you get to Bosler you oughta look up Marshal Fay. These are his bays, an’ I think he’d welcome a race. I hear he likes t’ match his horses, but I don’t think he does much against the teams over there. If you think your grays are good …”
The smith grinned, and Longarm guessed Bill would have himself a race in short order.
And in fact Longarm had not lied to the smith. Not a bit of it. The way he understood it, Bill no longer could do much against the competition in and around Bosler. Of course that was because his bays hadn’t yet been beaten and at this point no one else was willing to take them on. Had Longarm neglected to make that clear to the Chinaman’s Knob blacksmith? Gee, he thought it was all clear enough.
“Say, friend, you don’t know a fella hereabouts name of Windy Williams, do you?”
