Longarm was shocked at Megan’s rough and seemingly callous language, but then realized that he shouldn’t have been. Old Marshal Bill Riley had been a heller and had always sworn like a mule skinner. It was small wonder that his daughter possessed a sharp tongue.
When they reached the marshal’s little office, they were ushered inside and directed to a pair of scarred old desks. Marshal Rouse was nervous and in a hurry.
“Here,” he said, extending pads to them both, “just write down a few paragraphs describing the events that took place and then sign your names.”
“Damned foolishness, this,” Megan groused.
“You’re right,” Longarm agreed.
Just then, Longarm heard the shrill and unmistakable sound of a distant and approaching train whistle. He bent over the pad of paper and began to scribble.
His statement was brief, hastily written, and no doubt riddled with hurried misspellings. Longarm did not care. He stated in his long, flowing script that he had been forced to defend himself, first in the saloon, then later outside when Fergus MacDonald had attempted to shoot him in the back as he was walking down the boardwalk.
“This ought to do it,” Longarm said, laying his pen down and coming to his feet. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, there’s that train to catch.”
“Don’t worry,” Rouse said. “The train has to take on wood and water and also new passengers after the ones from Sacramento disembark. I promise that your train will be here for at least forty minutes, and probably an hour.”
Longarm sat back down while Rouse read the hastily composed statement. When the marshal of Reno looked up, he was frowning. “You’re rather blunt with your words, aren’t you.”
“I say what I mean,” Longarm growled. “Paperwork isn’t my long suit, but I expect you’re a real whiz at it.”
Rouse blushed. “I guess you think you’ve just insulted me, but the fact of the matter is that I do take considerable pride in the work that I do. Reports are very important.”
“Oh, bullshit,” Megan said, finishing her own statement.
“It’s the truth,” Rouse persisted. “And that’s one of the reasons why Marshal Riley needed to retire.”
Megan’s blue eyes flashed. “That’s a lie! He retired because he’s old and his eyesight failed him. Otherwise, he’d still be in this office and you’d still be a miserable, second-rate little clerk at the Wells Fargo Bank.”
Rouse shook with pent-up anger. “You’ve a bad habit of speaking without thinking, young woman.”
Megan came to her feet, then stomped toward the door, where she turned and shouted, “You’re out of your element, Rouse. Someone is going to shoot you down or run you out of town with your tail tucked between your legs. You don’t have the ability, the courage, or the brains to be a lawman.”
“Why, you-!”
But Megan was already stomping outside, slamming the door behind her.
“Sonofabitch!” Rouse shouted hoarsely. “That woman needs a good whipping!”
Longarm was amused. “Well,” he said, “she does have a sharp tongue and a lively way about her. But I’d say that you’re not the one to put Miss Riley in her place. Hell, Marshal, I think she’d whip you in a flash.”
Rouse looked ready to explode with anger when Longarm excused himself and went out the door with a chuckle.
“Well,” Rouse said, heading out the door too, “we’ll just see how smart-assed you really are after I talk to Judge Potter and he summons you to his chambers!”
It was a surprisingly short hour later when Marshal Rouse boarded the waiting train out of breath but wearing a look of triumph on his round, sweaty face.
“Marshal Long,” he said formally as he found Longarm reclining in a coach seat, “I’m afraid that Judge Potter has summoned you for further questioning.”
“What!”
“That’s right,” Rouse said, barely able to suppress a grin. “I have his subpoena right here in my hand. Would you come along, please.”
“Hell, no!”
Rouse’s smile turned nasty. “I had anticipated that you would be uncooperative and took the liberty of sending a telegram to your superior in Denver.”
“You telegraphed Billy Vail?”
“I did and he sent an immediate reply.” Rouse extended the telegram. It read simply:
CUSTIS COOPERATE STOP “You low-down, sneaky little sonofabitch,” Longarm breathed, crumpling up the telegram and hurling it at the leering marshal as he came to his feet.
“Would you follow me, please,” Rouse said almost sweetly as he pivoted on his heels and headed toward the vestibule of the coach.
Longarm was powerfully tempted to ignore Billy’s terse telegram, but after a second of indecision, he decided that he had better follow his boss’s orders and get this matter settled. He’d miss his train, sure enough, but he did want to see and pay his respects to old Marshal Riley, and he sure wanted to see Megan again. She was the kind of passionate and strong-willed woman that Longarm found almost irresistible.
Chapter 2
