Longarm got off the first shot on the man trailing and he saw immediately that the tactic might work. The horse suddenly veered to his right and began pitching. It caught the rider so off guard that he went tumbling off, going head over feet, sprawling on the rocky ground.
They didn’t seem to have heard the shot, and Longarm levered in another cartridge and aimed at the horse next in line. He fired again and this time the horse stumbled, his hindquarters sagging. Longarm feared he had wounded the horse too deeply, but by then, he had no time to look. Already, he had thrown a fresh shell into the chamber and had fired at the third horse. It instantly went down in a heap, rolling over the rider and pinning him. By now, the other four riders were aware that they were under fire. Myers was to the far left. Beside him, and trying to drop back, rode Hawkins. There were two gunmen to the right of the leather salesman, all looking backward.
Longarm didn’t like them so close to Hawkins. It was going to be a hard shot from about seventy yards off a running horse, but he stood up in his stirrups and aimed carefully at the gunman nearest George Hawkins. He squeezed off a shot and saw the man suddenly pitch forward and then slowly slide down the side of his galloping horse. The other man fired off a revolver shot that went over Longarm’s head. Longarm was coming up on the first of the men whose horses he had disabled. The man was still down, but he was scrambling to pick up a revolver. Longarm couldn’t afford to waste another rifle cartridge as he only had one left and he didn’t have time to reload. He quickly flipped the Winchester from his right hand to his left and drew his revolver and fired at the man from about five yards away as he closed on him rapidly. The bullet caught the man somewhere near the middle of his chest, and he whirled around and fell forward.
The next man was still under his horse, but at that instant, Longarm saw real danger. The third man he’d dropped was clear of his horse and had somehow managed to get his rifle in his hands. He was squatting there on one knee, leveling down, trying to bring his sights to bear on Longarm. There was no time to shoot carefully. The man was thirty or forty yards away, which was a very long shot for a pistol. All Longarm could do was thumb the big .44 revolver and fire as fast as he could. The man got off one rifle shot and it sang right by Longarm’s ear. The third shot Longarm fired took the man in the belly. He doubled over, dropping his rifle, and fell on his side.
Now there was no more time to be concerned about those that were left. It was time to get the best of the gunmen, get Hawkins loose, and take Jake Myers into custody. He had the one cartridge left in his Winchester, and putting the spurs to his horse, he closed the distance to thirty yards before he raised up to fire at the last man. The man was turned in his saddle, firing rapidly with a revolver. Longarm shot him just under the shoulder. The bullet knocked him across the side of the saddle. For a second, he hung down among the thrashing hooves of his horse. Then he slipped away, falling to the ground and went tumbling end over end over end.
In that instant, Hawkins suddenly split away to the right, leaving only Jake Myers riding alone. As Longarm gained on him, he could see the old fat man giving frightened looks over his shoulder. Their horses were both in a dead run, but Longarm’s had much the easier load, and within ten jumps, Longarm was almost up to the tail of Myers’s horse. He could see Myers fumbling inside his pocket for some kind of weapon. He didn’t want to shoot the man—it would defeat his purpose—so he swerved his horse over until he was right behind the old man and his mount. The man was too stout to turn far enough around in his saddle to fire, and Longarm knew that his horse wasn’t going to be able to run much farther, carrying such a load. To get Myers’s attention, Longarm pulled the extra revolver out of his waistband and, aiming carefully, shot the white Stetson off the old man’s head. It took all the starch out of Myers. His horse was already beginning to slow. Longarm fired another warning shot and then Myers pulled his horse down to a gallop and then a lope and then finally down to a trot. Longarm frantically waved for Hawkins to ride away before he came up alongside Jake Myers.
The old man turned his fat, florid face on Longarm and gave him such a look of fury that Longarm was glad he wasn’t carrying a cannon. If he had been, Longarm thought he might have taken great delight in putting a hole through the man. As he came abreast of Myers, he said, making his point with the revolver he was still carrying in his hand, “If you’ve got any hardware on you, Mr. Myers, or anything that’s likely to shoot, you’d better get rid of it right now, or else this thing in my hand is likely to go off.”
The old man gave him a disgusted look and then reached into the pocket of his suit coat and came out with a small-caliber revolver and cast it aside.
They slowed to a walk.
Longarm said, “Jake Myers, my name is U.S. Deputy Marshal Custis Long. You are under arrest for various offenses, both federal and state.”
Myers’s face was furious. He said, “You go to hell.”
Longarm said, “Maybe, but first we’re going to go up to Tom Hunter’s cabin so you can meet and talk to Archie Barrett and he can tell you how comfortable it is living up there.”
Jake Myers’s voice was unnaturally high for a man of his girth and size. He said, “Let me tell you something, you simpleton son of a bitch, you ain’t got any right to arrest me, and before this is all over, you’re going to sure as hell wish you hadn’t. I’ve got friends, plenty of friends. They’ll probably not only have your job, they’ll probably have your ass.”
Longarm reached out and grabbed the bridle of Jake Myers’s horse and brought them both to a stop. He said, “Let’s me and you get something straight right quick, Myers. Nothing about you scares me. In fact, there’s nothing about you that makes me feel anything at all except disgust. You’ve had it all your way around here for far too long, and you’ve made a lot of folks miserable as hell. But all that’s over with now. There’s nothing you could do to me, but I’m going to do plenty to you. Let’s get that straight. I’m a United States deputy marshal and you can’t touch me.”
Myers glared at him for a moment and then waved a hand at the departing figure of George Hawkins. He said, “There goes a Judas goat. I’ll hang that son of a bitch, that’s for sure. He’s the one who lured me into your trap.”
Longarm said, “That man has been sworn in as a deputy United States marshal, same as me. You touch one hair on his head, and you’ll never see so much trouble in all your life. There’ll be five hundred deputy marshals come boiling down around this place, and there won’t be a thing left of this countryside once they get through. Matter of fact, nothing will grow here for ten years once they get through, and that includes you. Now, you might as well make your mind up to the fact that things have changed and there’s not a damned thing you can do about it. Let’s get to making some tracks for Tom Hunter’s cabin. We’ve got some business to do today. I’m as sick of this whole affair as I’ve ever been of any job I’ve ever had since I became a marshal. I’d like to get it over with and get out of here and away from the likes of you and Archie Barrett. Get that damned horse moving, that is if he can carry your fat gut the mile or two more we’ve got to go.”
As they rode, Myers said only one thing and that was to ask Longarm if he had intentionally set up an ambush for him.
Longarm said, “Hell, no, Myers. I’ve been watching for you to come out of your lair for some time. It was just an accident that you came along at just the time I was hiding behind that butte. Just one of those lucky coincidences. I’m sorry about your men. Seems like several of them had horses step into gopher holes and fall
