“Yeah, well, in the meantime you can help me by getting her body moved over here just as quick as possible.”
“There’s really no hurry about that, Marshal. Ira said the inside of Darby’s cabin is as cold as an icehouse in January. The girl will keep just fine where she is.”
Longarm shook his head. And explained about the problem of the horny young boys who would likely persist in sneaking out there to get a look at a naked, dead whore.
“I hadn’t thought of that,” the undertaker allowed. “Not that it would do the boys any real hurt. But it isn’t dignified. Nancy deserved better. Besides, those boys’ mamas get wind of what’s going on out at that cabin and there will be hell to pay about sin and wickedness amongst us. Those of us who like a little Saturday night comfort don’t want a fuss raised like that.”
It was an argument in favor of quick retrieval of the body that Longarm hadn’t thought of. But it was certainly a valid one and one that would please the mayor.
“Can you bring her in today?”
The barber frowned. Then he sighed and reluctantly nodded. “I’ll have to borrow Ed Turner’s sled. I don’t have one myself. Got runners that I can fit to my hearse to make it a sleigh, but you’d play hell trying to get a mule to go out in this weather. Better I get hold of Ed’s little sled and use that. Can you help me load her onto it?”
“I can do that,” Longarm agreed.
“We can go now if you like. I’ll just have to change my clothes into something good and warm, then go find Ed and ask him for the use of his delivery sled.”
“I tell you what,” Longarm suggested. “I need to stop at the telegraph office, so why don’t I do that while you’re taking care of whatever-all you have to do. I’ll get my business out of the way and meet you at Travis’s shack. I take it you know the way.”
“Surely do, Marshal. Darby Travis is a bachelor too, you see. He and I have spent many a night out there at his place playing chess or dealing hands of rummy. And as often we’ve gathered here under this roof too, Darby and me and a few of the other crotchety old farts in town. Not so much fun as going over to Norma’s, of course, but a sight less expensive. Anyway, that sounds just fine. You go on and do whatever you have to. I’ll meet you at Darby’s in, oh, say, an hour or thereabouts. Is that long enough for you?”
“Just fine, thanks.” Longarm went back out into the storm. He was halfway to the railroad depot when it occurred to him that he hadn’t ever gotten the barber’s name. Nice fellow, though.
Going with the wind on his way back, Longarm practically flew down the deserted streets. If he’d had boards to slide on, he figured he could have spread his coat wide and sailed the rest of the way. As it was, he made mighty good time despite the lousy conditions.
Chapter 25
Damn telegraph operator still wasn’t in. The office was cold and dark. Longarm could have gone inside and opened the key himself. He was more than capable. But he could not honestly claim that this was an emergency. What it was was a nuisance, but that did not give him license to break and enter. God knows he was taking liberties enough by assuming jurisdiction in the girl’s death. That sort of thing Billy Vail would let slide should the mayor or anyone else in Kittstown complain. But breaking into the telegraph office might be seen as an excessive sort of zeal and make Billy mad. Longarm just hated it when the boss got all huffy and red in the face.
Of course, the thing that was really peeving him here was that he’d come back all this way in the wind and the snow and accomplished not a damn thing by it. Now he had to turn around and head back into the wind again so he could meet the undertaker at Darby Travis’s shack.
There wasn’t much for it, he supposed, but to go ahead and get it done. He took a moment to step into a recessed doorway so as to get out of the full force of the wind while he lit a cheroot. Then it was back out into the ball-clanking cold.
Longarm made his way along the storefronts two blocks past the turn toward the barbershop, and recognized the street he wanted by the small, brick bank building on the corner. He braced himself for an instant, squared his shoulders, ducked his head, and stepped out from behind the protection of the bank.
Lordy, it was bitter-nasty. The wind found every gap between his buttons, funneled down the neck of his coat, and likely would have snapped the tip of his nose clean off if he’d blundered head-on into anything solid. Longarm felt frozen right down to the cods, and wasn’t sure he would be able to recover from this even if he had a pair of buxom twins and a feather bed to enjoy them in for the next week and a half. Of course in the interests of science he might be willing to try, but …
He was thinking along those lines, warming himself through the artifice of fancy since there wasn’t anything better to hand, when he got himself distracted away from the thoughts of imaginary twins with big tits.
But then the sound of a gunshot has a tendency to do that sort of thing.
The muzzle report sounded thin and hollow on the wind, and wherever the bullet went, it wasn’t close enough to be heard over the whine of the gale.
At first Longarm wasn’t even sure the shot was intended to come his way.
A second report convinced him.
First there was a faint but unmistakable thupp as the bullet sped by to the left of his head, then a louder, wind-distorted sound of a short-barreled gun being fired.
This time Longarm ducked. There was no point, of course. Once you heard the bastard go by, it was already way the hell too late to move aside. Which was one thing to know, but another to convince your body to act upon. The simple truth was that even with flying bullets, a fella was just plain going to duck and never mind the logic of the situation.
Longarm ducked and fumbled inside his coat, cold-numbed fingers groping for the butt of his .44 Colt.
This time he managed, eventually, to get the thing out without ripping any more buttons off. By then he was hunkered low against the wall of a … some damn building or other. He had no idea what the place was and didn’t much care. His attention at the moment was out in front. Out there where those gunshots came from.
Longarm didn’t know where the asshole was. Disgruntled George again? Likely so, he figured. The son of a
