Longarm said, “He’s one of Myers’s men. Why don’t he apply to Myers for his money?”
McAllister didn’t answer him. He was looking over Longarm’s shoulder. He nodded and said, “I think you’ve got company.”
Longarm wheeled around just as two men came through the swinging doors. They were similar to the three he had seen this morning except that one of these men was a Mexican and the other one had lost part of his ear. They came a few steps into the saloon and stopped. They looked at Longarm. One of them said, “You the one that’s supposed to be the federal marshal?”
Longarm said, “My name is United States Deputy Marshal Custis Long. Are you here from Myers or from the Barretts?”
The one missing part of his ear said, “We came from Mr. Archie Barrett.”
“I didn’t send for two of Mr. Archie Barrett’s hired guns. I sent for Mr. Archie Barrett and his two brothers. Where the hell are they?”
Both men bristled, but nothing else happened. Behind him, Longarm heard a slight commotion. There had been two other men drinking at the bar, men he could easily identify as townspeople. He could tell that not only they, but McAllister also, were getting out of the line of fire.
“What do you two boys want?” Longarm said.
The one with the half-torn ear said, “Mr. Archie sent us in here to tell you that he ain’t a-comin’ to where you are, and he ain’t a-comin’ to where you and Jake Myers is liable to be. He said, though, that if you wanted to ride out to the ranch, he’d be willing to take some time out this afternoon and talk to you.”
Longarm shook his head. He said, “No, I don’t reckon that’ll do. Now, here’s what you go back and tell Mr. Archie Barrett and Mr. Oliver Barrett and whatever the other one’s name is. You tell them I’m going to wait on them tomorrow at eleven o’clock, just like I did today. And we’re going to keep on doing this until my patience wears out. Then I’m going to go see them, only they ain’t going to know when I’ll be there. Now, can you understand that and repeat it like you had good sense?”
The two men looked at each other. The Mexican’s hand hovered very near his revolver. Longarm placed his eyes on the man’s hand. He said, “I sure hope your hand don’t get to trembling and get any closer to the butt of that revolver than it already is, not unless you like holes in your chest.”
They both visibly relaxed. The man with the torn ear shrugged. He said, “Listen, mister. We just work for wages. We’re just doing what we’re told. If you want trouble with Mr. Archie Barrett, good luck to you.”
“Trouble ain’t what I want. Peace is what I want. Now, you go back and tell him that.”
Both men started forward. The one with the torn ear said, “Hell, we might as well get a drink while we’re here.”
Longarm put up his hand. “I thought you heard. There ain’t going to be no Barretts and no Myerses doing any business in this town until this matter gets straightened out. You boys will just have to go on back thirsty.”
The Mexican looked startled. He said, “Hey, choo can’t make us not drink in this place. This place is for the public. We are the public. Choo don’t stop me drinkin’ in here.”
Longarm said, “I’m going to give you until the count of three, and I’m going to count by twos, to get the hell out of here. Then I’m going to whip the hell out of both of you.”
They stared at him, hesitating. Longarm was watching them close. The men wanted to do something, but they weren’t sure.
The man with the torn ear said, “You got mighty highfalutin ways, mister.”
Longarm said, “That’s Mister Marshal to you, young ‘un. Now, get both your corn bread asses out of here. Now!”
They hesitated, still, both of them unused to such treatment. Longarm straightened up and put his hand on the butt of his revolver. He said, “Two.”
The men suddenly turned as if on a common impulse and went out through the door. One of them shouted back something, but Longarm couldn’t make out the words. In another moment, he heard the sound of hoofbeats as they raced their horses out of town.
Longarm watched the door for another moment and then turned back to the bar and the balance of his drink. McAllister came up, his face sour. He said, “Well, you handled that mighty nicely, Marshal. You plan on putting this town in the poorhouse?”
Longarm glanced over at the two townsmen standing over in the far corner, both with an empty glass in hand. He said, “Looks to me you’re doing quite a lot of business for eleven o’clock in the morning. Hell, people ain’t supposed to drink this early.”
As if it had been an order, the two men quickly set their glasses down and hurried out through the front door.
McAllister shook his head. “I don’t think this is legal. I’ve about half a mind to get off a telegram to whoever your boss is,” he said.
“Well, with that half of mind, write this down. My boss’s name is Billy Vail of the United States Marshal Service in Denver, Colorado. He’ll get a telegram by tomorrow. You can send it and tell him exactly what I’m doing. In fact, I wish you would. He’d be proud of me.”
McAllister said, “Why don’t you just go to hell?”
Longarm shoved away from the bar. He flipped a silver dollar and said, “You realize that I’m more than making up for the business you’re losing by the way I drink. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
With that, he turned and headed for the door. Behind him, he could hear McAllister cursing steadily in a low voice. It made him laugh.
Both Mr. Sims and Mr. Hawkins were there at lunch. Mrs. Thompson served them beef stew without comment and then disappeared. Longarm reflected that he had yet to catch sight of her young daughters. Mr. Sims, as he had
