on horseback and trust that the wind would not resume.
That meant Nancy’s killer, or killers, might already be out of reach.
The thought was sufficiently unpleasant to wipe the satisfaction off Longarm’s face and bring a tight-knit scowl back.
Dammit, there had to be some fucking thing he could do to smoke those killers out.
Killers. Plural. That was how he persisted in thinking of them. There almost had to be more than one of them, he figured. Surely no one man would stay in the icehouse cold of that unheated cabin long enough to be able to repeatedly rape the girl. The sheer volume of semen found on and in her body was enough to convince Longarm that more than one man used her. Took turn and turnabout with her, whether with or without her consent at that moment. And then, for whatever reason, whether from anger or an inability to pay as promised, or simply for the pleasure of causing pain to someone who could not defend herself, when they were finished the sons of bitches killed her.
They. Whoever. And now, dammit, they could get away if they wanted.
Longarm figured he needed to come up with something—he had no idea what—to prevent that from happening.
Damn them!
Chapter 33
“You wanted to see me, sir?”
Longarm looked up from a three-month-old copy of the Police Gazette that he’d found lying about in the lobby of the Jennison Arms. He was waiting, with more resignation than relish, for the call to supper. A waiter had already told him what to expect on this day of short supplies and makeshift menus. Supper for everyone would be ham broth and baking powder dumplings. The menu choices were limited: take it or leave it. At least, thank goodness, the price was right; the railroad would be paying for it.
Supper would come shortly, though. At the moment young Jim Jennison Junior was standing there. Longarm had left word at the desk that he wanted to speak with the boy.
“Sit down, Jim. I wanted to ask you about one of the guests here.”
“Oh, sir, I can’t gossip about-“
“This is official business, son. Not gossip. I already know the answer I expect you’ll give, but I have to ask it anyway. It’s about George Mabry and his friend. They said you can confirm that they haven’t left their room since sometime last night.”
The youngster made a sour face. And vouched for Mabry’s story. Both men, he said, had been deathly ill the whole night long and all morning too. Neither could possibly have gone outside without someone knowing it. He personally had been in and out of their room half a dozen times or more trying to keep their bedding fresh and the chamber pot emptied. It was not the sort of chore he enjoyed doing.
Once that formality was out of the way, the boy stood to take his leave, but hesitated for a few seconds before doing so. “Can I ask you something, Marshal?”
“Of course, Jim. Ask whatever you like.”
“How is your investigation coming into … YOU know.”
“The girl Nancy?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Not as well as I would like,” Longarm admitted. “I can’t find anyone who saw or heard a thing, and without that …” Longarm shrugged and shook his head.
“Sure is a shame, ain’t it, that criminals don’t leave a mark when they go and do something rotten like that,” the youngster sympathized.
“It surely is,” Longarm agreed.
“Well, if you’ll excuse me, sir, I have work to do.”
“Thanks, son, you’ve been a big help.” Longarm hesitated. Then smiled. And finally laughed out loud. “In fact, Jim, you’ve been a whole lot more helpful than you can imagine.”
“Sir?” But Longarm did not explain further, and after a moment the boy turned and trotted off toward the kitchen and whatever it was that needed doing there.
Longarm sat on the lobby sofa and continued to chuckle and snort long after the boy was out of sight.
Chapter 34
Longarm took a sip of the rye—it was good but not from the tiptop-quality bottle the bartender had poured from before—and waved to the cowboys at the corner table who were motioning for him to join them. He paid for his drink and started through the crowd toward Billy Madlock, Carl Benson, and the others.
“Marshal?” He felt a light touch at his elbow, and looked down into the bright, inquisitive eyes of the girl called Dawn.
“What can I do for you?”
“Could I talk to you for a few minutes, please? In private?”
“Sure thing. Just a second.” Longarm got Jason Tyler’s attention and held up a finger to say he would be just one minute, then pointed upstairs. Jason, and soon after him all the other cowboys, grinned and nodded. Hell, yes, they understood if a man wanted to take a trip up those stairs before settling down to a game. Of course they did.
Dawn led the way, and Longarm followed docilely along behind her. He suspected most of the men in the place would be watching his progress and assuming he was going with the girl to get laid. But what the hell. He didn’t
