scramble back to the Barrett ranch and spread the word. Right now, I don’t want that happening. So you just might as well settle down and make yourself at home.”
Barrett said, again in a sullen voice, “Where the hell are you taking me? And by what authority are you taking me?”
Longarm said, “Barrett, if you don’t shut up, I’m going to see if I can’t shoot one of your ears off like that one gunslinger of yours laying back there on the ground. Maybe you’ll come to the same end as him. You keep fucking around with me, and I can guarantee you will. Just keep your horse pointed in the direction it’s going and keep your mouth shut.”
Within another half hour, Tom Hunter’s place came into view from a long distance off. It was set upon a little crown of land with its good stone house and its neat outbuildings and corrals. As they neared, Longarm could see that there were some cattle, more than just the ten that Hunter claimed to have, being close herded near the house. It was his guess that it meant that the Goodmans had arrived. That was a relief.
Barrett suddenly turned in his saddle and said, “That’s Tom Hunter’s place up there. We’re not going anywhere near there, are we?”
Longarm said, “Oh, Tom Hunter. You know him, do you?”
“What the hell business is it of yours whether I know him? Of course I know him. I know just about everyone around here.”
“And have stolen cattle off of damned near everybody around here, I understand. I guess the only reason you haven’t burned out Tom Hunter is that his house is made out of rock and he’s a pretty good hand with a rifle. I hear he’s shorted you a few hired hands. Is that right?”
“Go to hell.”
“Not as fast as you, neighbor. Now, get that horse to moving.”
They rode steadily forward until they started up the rise to Hunter’s house. Fifty yards away, Longarm saw Tom Hunter step through the front door, a rifle in his hands. They rode up and the rancher came forward, nodding his head.
Hunter said, “Howdy Marshal.” He glanced over at Barrett. “I see you brought our visitor.”
Longarm looked at Barrett and saw that the man looked alarmed. Barrett said, “What the hell does he mean, his visitor? You’re not keeping me here. I am not staying in this man’s house. Marshal, you cannot do this.”
Longarm swung his leg over his saddle and dismounted. He said, “Get down, Barrett. You can rest your legs for a while, and you can also rest that mouth of yours.”
“I’m not getting off this horse.”
Longarm walked around the flank of his own horse and approached Barrett with his rifle reversed and the butt end facing the chunky man. He said, “Get down or get knocked off that horse. Take your choice. I’ll give you about one second to decide.”
Barrett began to cuss, but he also swung his leg over and dismounted with a grunt. He was heftier than Longarm had thought at first. It was clear that he hadn’t done much hard work in some time. Tom Hunter said, “I’ve got a room all ready for him.”
“Did Mr. Goodman and his boy get here?” Longarm said.
“Yeah, they’re getting their stock settled.”
Barrett swung around to face both of them. He said, “What the hell is going on? What are you playing at? If you are trying something that you will be sorry for, I promise you I will make you sorry for it. You are not going to detain me here.”
Longarm said, “Walk on into the house, Mr. Barrett, or else we’ll carry you in. It makes no difference to me, one way or the other.”
With Tom Hunter and Hawkins following, Longarm shoved Archie Barrett into the front room of the cabin. It was dim and cool. Longarm said over his shoulder to Hunter, “Which way?”
“Straight ahead. There’s a small room that my wife used to use for sewing and whatnot. It’s bare now. She took what furniture and other little items she could with her. Got a good stout door on it and the windows are mighty small. I think it would take a hell of a big window to get his fat butt out.”
Longarm shoved Barrett ahead of him and to the right and through a door that opened into a room that was about ten feet by ten feet. There was a window in each of the two outside walls, but they were up high and as Tom had said, they were small. There was a chair and a table in the room and a wash basin and a pitcher of water. There was nothing else.
Longarm looked around and said, “Fine. This ought to do it.” He backed out and pulled the heavy wooden door shut behind him and then turned the key in the lock. On the other side, he heard a sudden yell and a stream of curses.
He turned around and smiled at Tom Hunter and at Hawkins. He said, “Now, I think we’ll let him cool out for a while and let him meditate on his sins.”
Tom Hunter said, “How long do you reckon?”
“Oh, all night for certain, and that with no supper.”
“Do you reckon we ought to put a bucket in there for him?”
“There’s a pitcher, ain’t there? And a wash bowl?”
“Yeah, but that’s for him to drink and wash his face.”
Longarm shrugged. “Hell, he can take his choice.”
The men sat talking for a few minutes. Tom Hunter started frying up some bacon and beans. In a little while, the two Goodmans came in. If Longarm hadn’t been told different, he would have thought they were brothers rather than father and son. They were both on the smallish side. Longarm guessed they each weighed somewhere
