something like, “No, sir.”
“Then what the hell is the matter with you?”
“Nothing.”
“Hell, boy. The only way I can tell that you’re alive is that you occasionally blink. You ought to be as mad as hell.”
“Yes, sir.”
Longarm said, “Listen, we’ve got to get ready. It’s going on for eight o’clock. Asher is not going to look long for his brothers, and he’ll be headed back this way. You get ready. Understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I want you to watch out the south side of the house. Understand? I’m going to watch out to the east.”
“Yes, sir.”
But what really scared Longarm was when Longarm said, “Would you like me to put you back in that room?” He was half kidding. Ross Henderson said, “Yes, sir. I wouldn’t mind.”
Longarm stared at the young deputy. Whatever was the matter with the boy was way beyond anything he understood.
The morning was advancing. When they had finished breakfast and were standing in the middle of the huge sitting room with the rifles on the wall and the exotic divans and couches, Longarm got right in front of Ross Henderson.
He said, “Son, I don’t know what’s happened to you or what’s come over you, but you’re not acting like a deputy United States marshal is supposed to act. Now, you pull yourself together, or I’m going to be sorry I ever let you out of that room. Do you understand?”
The young man said, “Yes, sir, yes, sir.”
Longarm said, “Oh, hell.”
The boy had replied with all the force of a vagrant draft of air.
Longarm said, “Damn it, kid, pull yourself together.”
Outside, Longarm heard the roar of the tiger or lion or whatever it was. He reckoned it was feeding time. He said, “Did you think they were going to feed you to that lion or that tiger? Did they tell you that they were going to have an elephant step on you? What exactly did they tell you?”
The young man looked away. “Nothing. Much.”
“All right,” Longarm said. “Keep it to yourself. I’ll be damned if I care. But you better do your job or I’m going to knock you over the head with this six-shooter.”
It was at about ten o’clock when Longarm saw a figure riding away from the southern end of the rocky ground, heading for the ranch house. He had little doubt that it was Asher Nelson, and soon enough, after about twenty minutes, he could see that the man was riding with the big-caliber scoped rifle held crosswise the saddle in front of him. Longarm got up from where he was kneeling by the window and walked to the south end of the room, where young Henderson was. He nudged him. “Come on, Ross. We’re fixing to take a prisoner. Asher is on his way.”
The young man looked around. On his face was a look that Longarm took to be fear, but he could not believe it could be fear. There were two of them and only one of Asher. So it must have been something else. It must have been embarrassment that Asher had taken him. It must have been relief. It might even have been excitement, but yet, it looked like fear to Longarm. Longarm said, “In about five minutes he’s going to be pulling up to the front door and expecting somebody to come take his horse. That somebody is going to be us. You watch me. Do not shoot the sonofabitch. I know you may want to, but don’t shoot him.”
Ross Henderson gave him a timid look. He said, “I wouldn’t shoot him, Marshal Long. I would never think of shooting him. He told me I couldn’t shoot him.”
Longarm took a step back and stared at the young man. He said, “He told you that you couldn’t shoot him?”
“Yes, sir. I had my gun on him when I seen what was going on. He told me I couldn’t shoot him, that I didn’t have the nerve to shoot him, and then he came and took the gun away from me.”
Longarm shut his eyes and then reopened them. He said, “Son, we don’t have time to talk about this now, but we’ll talk about it soon enough. I think I understand what’s going through your mind. Right now, let’s get up to that front door and tend to this business.”
Longarm cracked open one of the two double doors so that he could see to the east. It wasn’t long before the figure of Asher Nelson came loping toward the front of the house, still carrying the high-powered rifle across his saddle. He slowed to a trot and then to a walk as he approached the hitching post. He stopped just short of the porch and dismounted as a servant came running out to take the horse by the bridle and lead him back toward the barns.
Asher Nelson came up the steps, stomping his boots to clean them off. He was carrying the big rifle casually in his right hand. Longarm glanced across at Ross Henderson. To his amazement, the young man seemed to be almost trembling. He seemed to be afraid of Asher Nelson. It made Longarm feel a sympathy that he did not know was in him. He could not imagine the torture the young man was going through. Looking at young Ross Henderson only strengthened his resolve to deal as hard and as viciously with Asher Nelson as he could. He would have done so for his own sake if for nothing else. But considering what he had done to the mind of a promising young law officer made Longarm all the more angry.
Before Nelson could let himself into the house, Longarm suddenly whipped the door open and stuck the barrel of his .44-caliber into the forehead of the oldest brother. He had the hammer back and he said softly, “You better freeze or I’ll take the top of your head off.”
Asher Nelson stood stock still. Most men’s eyes would have almost crossed themselves trying to look at the gun barrel, but Asher Nelson didn’t look at that. He looked at Longarm’s eyes, and what he saw there convinced him to be very careful. He said, “What about this rifle I’m holding? It’s an expensive rifle and I’d hate to drop it.” Longarm said, “Drop it.”
