loud as he was yesterday. He seems to be running out of wind.”
Tom Hunter said, “Reckon we ought to have knocked a little more out of him?”
Longarm shook his head. He said, “Tom, you can carry that stuff too far. It’ll even get a coward’s back up, if you bruise him up too much and he figures he ain’t got anything to lose. No, we’re going to work on Mr. Barrett’s mind. See, he don’t know that we’ve got plans for him. He don’t know anything. All he knows is that he’s hungry, he’s thirsty, and he’s uncomfortable. He don’t know what the hell has happened and that unknown thing is what’s bothering him most of all. If you beat on a man, you can stiffen his backbone more than you think. I figure he’ll be most vulnerable at first light, so when we’re all up, we’ll have another go at it and see what happens.”
Longarm spent his watch sitting out in front of the cabin gazing across the moonlit range. It was a pretty sight. He could make out a few lights still on in town, and he wondered how Mrs. Thompson was getting along. She was going to be a very instrumental part of this plan, and for her sake, he desperately hoped it would work. In the short time he had known her, he’d grown fond of her and he’d come to admire her. If for no other reason than her welfare, he intended to bring peace to the area and to pull the teeth of the big bully families that had been causing so much trouble. She was a fine woman and did not deserve the sadness that had been brought into her life. He hoped, for her sake and for his, that the business could be wound up very quickly. There were some parts of his plan he didn’t understand because he didn’t know the ins and outs of certain parts of it, but he figured that either she did or Hawkins did or somebody did and he’d just follow their advice. What he needed now were the two ringleaders in his custody and at his mercy. After that, he thought things might well go along the right path.
Everyone was up a little before seven. Tom Hunter put a big pot of coffee on to brew and started some bacon frying mainly for Archie Barrett’s benefit. Then Longarm set the paper and the ink bottle and the pen out on the table again and sent the older Goodman and his son to fetch Archie Barrett.
Barrett looked worse than he had the day before, which was what Longarm had expected. His clothes were in disarray and a grubby black growth of whiskers was sprouting. He came into the room working his mouth and saying, “Water! Water! I’ve got to have some water. I’m dying of thirst.”
Longarm nodded at the paper and the pen. He said, “All you’ve got to do, Mr. Barrett, to get some water and a meal, is to pick up that pen and write what I tell you. Set him in that chair, Mr. Goodman.”
They guided Barrett into the chair and Robert Goodman held the pen out to him. He looked at it for a moment and then tentatively reached for it. He looked up at Longarm. Longarm could tell from his eyes there was still plenty of fight left in him.
“What the hell do you think I’m supposed to write?” Barrett said.
“Dip the pen in the ink and start off by saying, ‘Jake Myers.’ Just write that down, not ‘Dear Jake’ or ‘To Jake Myers.’ Just write down ‘Jake Myers’ and I’ll tell you the rest.”
Barrett stared at the paper and then stared at Longarm. He said, “I don’t know what the hell you’re trying to pull, but I ain’t going to have no part of it.” With a sudden move, he swept his hand across the table, striking the bottle of ink. It slid to the edge and would have tipped over except for the quick hands of Rufus Goodman. He caught it just off the stone floor. It would have broken for certain and that would have meant another trip to town for more ink.
Longarm shook his head. “Barrett, you ain’t making yourself very popular around here.” He glanced over at Rufus. “Son, did any of that ink spill?” he said.
“Yes, sir. There’s a pretty good splotch on the floor. I tried to catch it in time, but it was canted sideways and about half of it spilled out.”
Longarm sighed. He said, “Barrett, I’m sorry as hell that you did that. Now, take your shirt off and mop up Mr. Hunter’s floor. He don’t want folks staining it with ink. Understand me?”
Barrett glared at him. He said, “Go to hell.”
Longarm nodded at Hunter. He said, “Mr. Hunter, would you and Mr. Goodman assist Mr. Barrett in taking off his shirt and help him mop that ink up? Get him down on his hands and knees. Might be his face would be the best thing to wipe that spot instead of his shirt.”
With rough hands, they stripped the vest and then the white shirt off Archie Barrett. Then, holding him by both arms, they hustled him out of the chair and then bent him over until his face was touching the floor. Longarm’s view was blocked by the table, but he could see them making swabbing motions with Archie Barrett’s upper body. Finally, he said, “All right. That’s enough.”
They brought Archie Barrett back up and plumped him into the chair. Longarm noticed that he was hairy all over his body. He said, “Mister Barrett, now I know why you act like a gorilla. My God, I’ve never seen a man with so much hair in all my life. You need to shave your back.”
Barrett’s face was a mess. Hunter and Goodman had not been as careful as they could have been about putting Barrett’s shirt between his face and the ink. A good deal of the ink had been smeared down one side of his cheek and his forehead and into his hair. The shirt was a mess.
Barrett said sullenly, “You son of a bitch, you’ll pay for this one of these days.”
Longarm said, “No, Mr. Barrett, you’re going to pay. You are going to pay and pay and pay and then pay back what you’ve stolen from these people. Understand that?” He leaned across the table so that Barrett could get the full implication of his words. “I’m glad you brought up the word pay, because you ain’t got no idea how much you and Jake Myers owe these folks, and I’m going to see that you pay back every damned cent. Take him back to his room, boys, and this time, don’t be quite so gentle.”
As they pulled Barrett up, he said, “Wait a minute, damn it. Wait a minute.”
Longarm said, “What?”
Barrett stared at the blank sheet of paper and the pen. Then he looked up at Longarm. “What do you want me to write to Jake Myers?”
“I want you to invite him to a rendezvous with you. I want you to tell him that you want to have a meeting with him.”
“Why would I want to have a meeting with Jake Myers?”
“You want to have a meeting about me. About a deputy U.S. marshal who is stirring up trouble. You want to talk about doing something about me.”
