He said, “Tell me how it happened, son.”
Ross Henderson looked every bit a deputy marshal with a shave, his hair combed, his badge on, wearing a clean shirt, sitting in the saloon. He said, in his young-sounding voice, “Marshal, I can’t explain it. At first, I think they were confused about who I was. They took me and showed me their trophy room and I saw their plaque they had for you. I hadn’t talked to them very much at that point. That’s when I pulled my gun and said they were under arrest.”
Longarm said gently, “Only you weren’t ready to make it stick?”
Henderson looked down. He said, “I guess not.”
Longarm nodded. “And what happened then?”
Ross Henderson looked away, but he said, “That’s when Asher Nelson came toward me telling me I wouldn’t shoot. He said I wasn’t the kind that would shoot, that my mother had taught me better, that I would go to Hell if I did, and that I was too nice.”
“How old are you, Ross?” said Longarm.
“I’m twenty-seven, Deputy Long.”
“You look about twenty-one. How long were you a law officer before you applied to the Marshal Service?”
Henderson said, “I was a deputy sheriff for four years in Topeka, Kansas.”
Longarm wanted to roll his eyes. Topeka wasn’t exactly the hellhole of the world. There were probably only two people a week that got arrested there for being drunk—not drunk and disorderly, just drunk. “So the service took you on?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Tell me, Ross. Have you ever shot anybody before?”
Henderson shook his head slowly from side to side. “No, sir.”
Longarm said, “Have you ever pulled your gun before?”
Again Henderson shook his head. “Oh, I pulled it once or twice, Marshal Long, but I knew I wasn’t going to have to use it. I knew I could have taken whoever it was with just my hands. I was just practicing.”
Longarm was silent for a moment. Then he said, “There are two kinds of people in this world, Ross. Both kinds can pull a weapon, but only one kind can use it. Now, you look like a deputy marsh al ought to look, but I don’t think you can pull the trigger. I know a little man. I’ve known him a long time. Wringing wet once upon a time, he wouldn’t have weighed thirty pounds, but he was probably the last fellow in the world that you wanted to fool with. He’s your boss and mine, Billy Vail. When that revolver of his came out of that holster, you had better not be standing in the way because it was fixing to go off. Son, what I’m trying to say is that not every man is intended to be a lawman. I’m not going to tell you your business, but I don’t think you ought to be one.”
Ross Henderson looked down at the beer in front of him. He hadn’t tasted it yet. He said, “I appreciate what you’re saying, Deputy Long, but I like being a United States deputy marshal. I like it.”
Longarm reached into his pocket and pulled out a little sack. It had $2,000 in gold coins in it. He pitched it to Ross Henderson. The young man looked at it, then opened it, and looked inside. He glanced up at Longarm questioningly.
Longarm said, “That’s for you.”
“But it’s your money.”
“I know whose money it is, but I’m giving it to you.”
“What for?”
“Because, son, one of these days, one of two things are going to happen. You’re going to be in another situation where you don’t pull the trigger, and you’re going to need that two thousand dollars to leave to your kin. Or one of these days, you’re going to come to your senses and realize that you shouldn’t be a lawman, and you’re going to need that money to make yourself a new start.”
Henderson looked at him. He said, “I don’t know what to say. You’ve got me all confused.”
Longarm stood up and put on his hat. He said, “I’ve got a train to catch, Ross. You sit there and think about it. From time to time, we are all confused.” Then he walked out the door, heading for the depot. Here and there, he could still see the posters that offered $10,000 for his capture. What the posters didn’t say was that there was no one left to pay off the reward.
