more medicinal ointments.”
He placed his hand on Megan’s brow. “No fever, which is an excellent sign that you are already on the mend.”
“I feel much better today,” Megan said. She winked at Longarm and added, “We got a very good night’s sleep.”
“So it would appear,” the doctor mumbled as he removed the bandages and studied the bullet wound. “You know, there are gifted surgeons in San Francisco who could reduce the scarring and-“
“It’s all right,” Megan said. “Custis isn’t interested in My Shoulder anyway, are you, Custis?”
Longarm blushed. Megan, he knew, was being wicked, and even a mild castigation would only provoke her to become even more outrageous.
“Custis likes the rest of me just fine.”
“That’s enough,” Longarm warned, the tips of his mustache twitching with irritation.
Dr. Blake’s examination and ministrations took only a few minutes. Satisfied that the wound was healing nicely, he finished his rebandaging and then closed his medical kit in preparation to leaving.
“Did you get my message off by stage last evening?” Longarm asked.
“I did. It ought to reach Carson City this afternoon and then be sent very soon afterward.”
“Good.”
Longarm looked at Megan. “I took the liberty of adding a message to be telegraphed to your father in Reno. I didn’t want him to be worried.”
“Did you tell him about my … accident?”
“No,” Longarm said. “I thought it better not to.”
Megan looked relieved. “And now,” Longarm said, turning to face Dr. Blake. “We’ve kept our promise, so it’s time to keep yours. What did Jack Ramey say yesterday before bleeding to death?”
The doctor frowned, and then moved over to the window. “Are you sure that you want to know? That it wouldn’t just be better to go back to Reno and put this hellhole named Bodie behind you?”
“I’m very sure,” Longarm said without hesitation. “Because if I did that, I’d be allowing whoever paid Jack Ramey to get away scot-free. They’d probably continue to hire men to do their butchery so that anytime someone tried to stand up for the law in this town, they’d be assassinated just like Hec and Ivan.”
“Yes,” the doctor said, “that’s quite likely. But once I tell you who hired Ramey, you’ll feel duty-bound to open that can of worms and then there will be even more bloodshed. And frankly, Marshal Long, even Bodie has seen enough for a while.”
“Doc, I appreciate your concern, but I’ve got a job to do. Now, I know that Marshal Kane and his deputy weren’t even authorized to carry badges. They told me that.”
“That surprises me.”
“It shouldn’t,” Longarm said. “I’d have found out quick enough. And I also know that they were shaking down some of the merchants.”
“And some of the professionals,” the doctor admitted with a trace of bitterness. “Their protection fees were not exorbitant, considering the alternatives. And quite frankly, those who were convinced that it was better to subscribe are, in the main, satisfied with the protection that they were receiving.”
“Receiving from whom?”
“From a coalition of powerful men, Marshal. I would say they number less than five. They are the most powerful among our saloon owners and mine owners, and one is a miners’ union boss.”
“What has a miners’ union boss got to do with this sort of thing?” Megan asked.
The doctor shrugged. “Greed knows no occupational boundaries, dear girl. The miners’ union is powerful here in Bodie, and its president wants a say-so in every facet of Bodie’s day-to-day activities.”
“Did he also want to see Marshal Kane and Deputy Ward killed?”
“Probably,” the doctor said, “but not enough to pay someone to do the job.”
“Then who the hell did pay Jack Ramey!” Longarm demanded with no small amount of exasperation.
“The name that Ramey gave me is that of Horace Leach.”
“Horace Leach?” Longarm said, turning the name over in his mind and coming up with a blank. “Who the hell is he?”
“He is a very private man who owns the Savior Mining Company. The property is located about three miles east of Bodie. Mr. Leach is a certified mining engineer, and he did quite well on the Comstock Lode before his presence became a burden and he was forced to relocate. He bought one of Bodie’s oldest mines, one thought to be worked out several years ago. But Mr. Leach’s geological education paid off handsomely, and he soon resurrected its productive capacity. I would say that the Savior Mine now produces about half a million dollars of gold and silver a year. That’s nothing compared to the Standard which is our largest, but it’s not anything to sniff at either.”
“I should say not,” Longarm replied. “So why did Mr. Leach hate Kane and Ward bad enough to pay an assassin?”
“They had a run-in, of course. It happened last fall. Mr. Leach is known for throwing these huge extravagant parties for his stockholders and potential stockholders. From what I’d heard, the two men had never liked each other, and things got much worse when Marshal Kane offered his services to ‘protect’ the guests that were coming to Bodie to enjoy Leach’s grand party.”
“I see,” Longarm said. “So the marshal wanted to extort a little protection for Mr. Leach’s guests?”
