“Look!” Longarm shouted with mounting exasperation. “I am a deputy United States marshal and this man was out of control. I had to shoot him before he killed or badly wounded some innocent citizen. Now, we’ll get this thing all settled, but first we really need an undertaker.”
“I’m coming!” a tall, emaciated-looking man in his late fifties cried, racing up to join them.
“That man can smell blood!” an older woman with her hat all askew snipped.
“Why, it’s Fergus!” the undertaker cried, dropping to the fallen man’s side and placing his fingers on the man’s neck as if to check his pulse. “And he’s dead.”
“That’s right,” Longarm said, watching as the undertaker leaned over Fergus and surreptitiously rifled the bartender’s pockets. Apparently he found nothing because he said, “Well, I hope that he has friends who will pay for my services.”
“For Chrissakes!” a short, slightly winded man wearing a marshal’s badge growled as he hurried over to join them. “Just go in and get a case of his beer in payment.”
“That poison? Not on your life,” the undertaker hissed.
“What happened?” the marshal demanded, eyes shifting over the crowd of gawkers.
Longarm pulled back his coat to reveal his badge, which had been hidden from open view. He rarely displayed the badge except when necessary, firmly convinced that there were too many men with Fergus’s disagreeable attitude toward lawmen and inclined toward gun trouble.
“I shot that man in self-defense,” Longarm explained.
The marshal studied Longarm for a moment as if he could detect truth or guilt. Finally, he looked around at the others and said, “Any witnesses among you that actually saw the shooting?”
“I did,” Megan answered as she took a step forward, detaching herself from the excited crowd.
“You did not!” one of the older women argued. “I swear that you were ducking and hiding just like the rest of us!”
“I ducked, sure,” Megan said, blue eyes flashing. “But I kept my eyes on Marshal Long, and I heard Fergus shooting long before this brave man stepped outside and put one through the bartender’s heart.”
“You’re sure of that?” the marshal asked, gaze shifting back and forth between the girl and Longarm.
“of course I am!” Megan said angrily. “Why are you making such a big damned deal out of a lawman defending his own life! Marshal Rouse, my father wouldn’t waste a minute asking such dumb questions.”
Rouse colored with embarrassment. “Your father did things his way. I do them by the book.”
Rouse turned to Longarm and said, “I’m going to need you to write out a statement describing what happened. And then Judge Leroy Potter will most certainly want to have a private word with you.”
“Sorry, but I got a train to catch in about …” Longarm consulted his watch. “About twenty minutes.”
“I’m sorry too,” the marshal said, “because you’re not leaving my town until we’ve got all the loose ends of this tied up. A man—a taxpaying citizen of Reno—has been shot down in the street, and I’m sure that you understand that we’re not going to let you waltz out of town until we’ve filled out all the reports and completely satisfied ourselves that everything is in proper order.”
“Proper order?” Longarm bristled. “Listen! I’ve got a train to catch, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to hang around here an extra couple of days so that I can cross the t’s and dot the i’s in your damned statement.”
Marshal Rouse tried to bluster, but failed and swallowed loudly. “Listen,” he said, his voice becoming more conciliatory, “why don’t we hurry on over to the office and take care of this right now? I’m sure that, if Miss Riley will cooperate and fill out a similar statement, we can-“
“I’m not filling out anything!” Megan stated. “Marshal Rouse, I told you that I heard that horrid man shooting at Marshal Long and that I saw him fire one returning shot in self-defense. That ought to be plenty good enough for you, and I won’t waste my time on anything more.”
“My sentiments exactly,” Longarm said. “This whole thing is a bunch of nonsense.”
Rouse looked pained, but was smart enough to say, “All right, dammit! Just scribble a couple of notes! You can both trouble yourselves that much, can’t you?”
Longarm took a deep breath, then expelled it slowly. Having been a lawman for quite some time, he could see that this new marshal was losing face in front of the townspeople and now was reduced to practically begging. Longarm was not an unreasonable man, and took pity.
“Very well,” he said. “I’ll scratch out a few sentences.”
“Thank you,” Marshal Rouse said, looking extremely relieved. “And never mind about seeing the judge. I’ll explain that you were needed somewhere else.”
The marshal turned to Megan and tried to smile, but didn’t quite succeed. “Miss Riley, I know that you don’t have much respect for me …”
“At least you’ve got that much right.”
“… but if you would just try and cooperate, just a little, we can have all of this settled in a very few minutes and the marshal can be on that train. Won’t you please try and be reasonable?”
Megan relented. “Very well. But let’s hurry up. I’ve got an engagement to keep.”
“Thank you.” Rouse drew a dirty handkerchief out of his back pocket and mopped his perspiring face. He looked very nervous and upset when he said to Longarm and Megan, “Would you both please come along?”
Longarm offered Megan Riley the crook of his arm while saying, “I’m obliged to you for this inconvenience, miss.”
“It’s worth it to see Fergus finally get what he had coming for a lot of years. My father should have shot the bastard years ago and done everyone in this town a service.”
