your own without paying me no never mind and put them in the other hand, guess which hand would pull me slam on over on my back?”
Longarm said, “Now, Billy, you better watch out. Somebody’s going to accuse you of exaggeration one of these days.”
“Get on out of here. Get on down to the telegraph station and wire your friend. Is he going to cost us anything?”
Longarm was half out of his chair. “Why, you cheap old bastard. No, he won’t cost you anything. Like I’ve said, he owes me and he’ll be glad to do it.”
Billy Vail said, “Well, it didn’t have anything to do with the money. I just didn’t want to have to see you filling out a bunch of paperwork on his expenses.”
Longarm rolled his eyes toward the ceiling. “You beat everything, Billy. You just beat everything.”
He walked slowly down to the train depot, where a telegraph office was located. Once up on the station platform, he watched as the eastbound two o’clock came chuffing into the station, blowing steam and clanging its bell. Trains were all right as far as he was concerned, but a little train riding went a long way with him. A man didn’t have any sense of choice. He had to go wherever the rails were headed. It wasn’t like being out on the prairie on horseback, where he could cut north or west or east or in whatever direction he wanted to go. Longarm didn’t like anything that dictated a course for him.
He walked into the telegrapher’s office and went to the desk where they kept the blanks. There was a stub of a pencil there and he picked it up, wet the end, and then thought a minute before he began to write. He addressed it to Lee Gray, in care of the Desert Hotel and Saloon, Tucumcari, New Mexico. In the body of the telegram, he wrote:
HAVE SENT A YOUNG MARSHAL NAMED ROSS HENDERSON TO SANTA ROSA STOP HIS JOB IS TO INVESTIGATE WANTED POSTERS BEING PUT OUT ON MY HEAD STOP REWARD OFFERED STOP VERY CONFUSING STOP HENDERSON VERY INEXPERIENCED DEPUTY MARSHAL STOP WOULD GREATLY APPRECIATE YOU GOING TO SANTA ROSA AND KEEPING AN EYE ON HIM STOP WOULD APPRECIATE YOU GATHERING ALL INFORMATION YOU CAN ABOUT REWARD PLACED ON ME STOP APPRECIATE YOU LETTING ME KNOW IMMEDIATELY WHEN YOU RECEIVE THIS WIRE STOP WILL WAIT TO HEAR FROM YOU STOP
He signed it, and then turned it in to the telegrapher and charged it to the United States Government. After that, Longarm walked thoughtfully back to his boardinghouse, not quite certain if things were going the way they should be. Now that he was rested, he was sorry and anxious about not going to Santa Rosa himself. But he felt sure that if the telegram reached Lee Gray, his friend would take matters in hand and not only protect young Henderson, but gather enough information that would tell Longarm how best to act.
He spent that afternoon in one of his favorite saloons playing small-stakes poker, having a few drinks, and talking with men who were as friendly as anyone was to a U.S. deputy marshal. When you put on the badge, you did more than take on a duty; you also cut yourself off from the normal day-to-day business of living. People looked at you differently and they treated you differently and they were always slightly uncertain about what they did and said around you. But he had known before he’d become a marshal that it was a price he was willing to pay. No one had ever come right out and asked him why he had chosen to become a marshal. If they had, he wouldn’t have been able to answer them. If he had asked himself the same question, he wouldn’t have had a ready answer. It had nothing to do with wearing a badge or carrying a gun or the authority of his office. It had far more to do with the ability to set matters straight, to make things right. He would never admit it, but Longarm was a man who believed in the fairness and justice of life and every man’s right to that fairness and justice. He didn’t know where that feeling came from, and he didn’t have to know. All he knew was that he was happy being a marshal. The pay was lousy, the hours were horrible, and the work was dangerous. Other than that, it was as easy as sliding down a greased board.
He was back at his boardinghouse a little before seven, and was gratified to see a telegram waiting for him on the hall table. He ripped it open eagerly. It was from Lee Gray.
It said:
RECEIVED YOUR WIRE STOP AM STARTING FOR SANTA ROSA IN THE MORNING STOP WILL WIRE YOU WHAT I FIND OUT STOP HAVE SEEN POSTERS OF YOU STOP FIRST TIME I EVER KNEW ANYBODY WANTED YOU STOP THE PICTURE DON’T DO YOU JUSTICE STOP
Longarm went to his room feeling somewhat easier. He hadn’t known if Lee Gray had been in town and reachable by telegram or not. Now, at least he knew that some help for young Henderson was on the way. All Longarm could do now was wait. He went on into his room, took off his shirt and boots, and lay down on the bed and stared at the ceiling. He had a very difficult decision to make.
His landlady’s daughter, a young lady of some twenty one or twenty two years of age and of considerable beauty, had been giving him every indication that she would like to spend some time in his room, and not making up the bed or dusting. Her name was Lucy. He had done nothing to either encourage her or discourage her, but he had an idea that this very night could well be the night she’d like to spend some time with him. He knew that her mother, his landlady, was going to be out late on her charitable duties of visiting the sick and taking parcels of food around to those who weren’t able to help themselves. He figured Miss Lucy would be ready to join him as soon as her mother left the house, which she normally did at about eight o’clock. He could then slip down, he figured. That would give them two or three hours to have a good time.
Of course, there was Pauline, but he didn’t believe he could take another night of her—not so soon, anyway. But then there was also a very lucious thirty-year-old widow named Gloria who worked at the bank. He had sampled her wares several times before. That afternoon, he had stopped in at the bank and briefly asked her if she would be home during the evening. She’d offered to fix him dinner, but he had known he would be playing poker and he didn’t want to eat until late, so he’d asked her if he could just simply drop by. She had fluttered her eyes and said, “Oh, my. Yes.”
So, that was his dilemma. Should it be Lucy or should it be Gloria? He had a feeling that he would be better off with an experienced hand like Gloria rather than a young woman like Lucy, who he guessed was fairly inexperienced. He liked them with a few miles under the saddle. You didn’t have to spend so much time guiding and directing them. They knew what to do. They knew how to hit a lope or a gallop without hitting the spurs. They knew which trail to take if there came a fork in the road. They knew the country.
He was sitting on the side of the bed in just his pants with a glass of whiskey in his hand when there suddenly came a light tap at his door. He said, “Come in.”
All of a sudden, the door flew open and then was closed just as quickly. It was Lucy Bodenheimer, his landlady’s daughter. She leaned back against the door, her breasts heaving, her voice high and excited. She said, “Oh, Marshal Long, you don’t know how long I’ve dreamed of this. I am absolutely hypnotized by your eyes. I seen you watching me when I serve you at the dinner table. You can’t know what this means to me.”
