“Who might they be?” the banker demanded.
Longarm smiled sheepishly and said, “I was hoping nobody would ask that just yet. I ain’t certain of some details. But offhand, we have the mastermind, that one known gunslick, and at least two other gals, Maureen and French Barbara, unaccounted for.”
Then he said, “I ain’t about to account for shit until I catch me some outlaws. That’s why I’ve come back to you for more help with the real-estate business you know better.”
Banker Guthrie leaned back expansively and declared, “You’re more than welcome to any help we can give you. You’re too modest about a lot of money you may have saved this bank. But I sent Lucy Wojensky over with that list of small holdings, and didn’t you just say those outlaws could be out of the county by this time?”
To which Longarm replied, “I’m working on where they might have run off to. Miss Medusa Le Mat has never yet holed up in thick aspen or rimrocks. We’ve always tracked her to at least one isolated spread, houseboat, or whatever, picked out well in advance.”
Guthrie nodded uncertainly, and said, “You just made mention of the old Nesbit place. Little Spider’s soddy up that wooded draw and so on, but
…”
“That’s the first time we’ve come across two such handy hideouts an unbroken gallop from the intended robbery,” Longarm declared, taking a long drag on his cigar before he went on. “Leastways, this would be the first time we’ve noticed more than one likely hideout.”
Guthrie volunteered, “I think I can answer that. You’ve been saying all along that this Medusa Le Mat is cautious to a fault. Doesn’t it stand to reason that she’d pick more than one good hideout, use the best in the end, and leave no trace of her intent for the alternate one? They killed Rose Cassidy. They left Little Spider Nash alive and unharmed. Nobody would have guessed they’d been sniffing around out her way if you hadn’t been so smart.”
Longarm shrugged modestly and said, “That’s what I need help with. I aim to backtrack Miss Medusa Le Mat to where she might have come from. It’s been my experience that scared or wounded critters tend to break for familiar safe surroundings. The army would never catch deserters if the poor homesick fools didn’t head right for the address they put on their enlistment papers.”
Banker Guthrie blinked and asked, “You’re expecting to find Medusa Le Matt’s original home address?”
Longarm said, “A place she felt safer, not too far from this part of the West, would work better. If she’s headed home to Paris, France, we’re out of luck.”
He got out the sheaf of papers Lucy Wojensky had already typed up and explained, “I’ve got the shadow of a sensible pattern figured out so far. I’ve wired county clerks high and low for other recorded deeds. I’m only interested in property held free and clear within a half-dozen miles of known locations. They’ve never picked an unproven homestead or a cattle spread. I reckon they were trying to leave us federal peace officers out of it as long as possible, and anyone can see it takes more than three or four gunslicks to wipe out a bunkhouse full of hands, even with half of them in town or out hunting strays.”
The banker repeated his offer to do anything he could for Longarm, who said, “I may need help with my figures as answers to my wires come in. Like I said, I’m starting to see patterns, but I ain’t no expert on mortgages, transfers of property, and such.”
Guthrie reached for a bell on his desk and clanked it until Lucy Wojensky came in. When she did, looking pleased to see Longarm, her boss told her to take the rest of the day off and stick with Deputy Long until he had no further use for her services.
She allowed she was more than willing. So they went first back to the Western Union and then to her place. Lucy had her own quarters above a carriage house near the bank.
It was just as well. Things were getting sort of crowded around his hotel, and she had a table they could share by a dormer window. They were going over records from her bank and wires from Western Union when Pat Brennan barged in without knocking to catch the two of them in such an innocent position.
Longarm looked up more annoyed than the pretty secretary, knowing the U.S. Bill of Rights better. Pat looked embarrassed, and said some of her deputies had been poking around out at the old Nesbit place.
She said, “They found a wad of money that would choke a horse and a box of French .40-caliber rounds, out back amid some hay bales.”
Longarm asked if they’d found that notorious Le Mat Duplex ten-shooter. When Pat sheepishly admitted they hadn’t, Longarm told her he and Miss Lucy were trying to pin down some dates and places tighter. He said, “I met up with this stage magician gal one time. She was able to show me how a medicine man was impressing the Lakota all out of proportion. Most magic is simple, once you know how it’s done. Folks who don’t believe in magic are as easy to trick because they tend to look for trapdoors and invisible wires a good magician don’t need. I suspect the misdirection Miss Medusa Le Mat’s been using is a version of what they call One Ahead in stage magic.”
Pat smiled awkwardly, and said she had to get on out to the old Nesbit place. She asked if he was coming. When he told her he was a mite busy with his own chores, she stomped out, slamming the door behind her.
Lucy Wojensky laughed lightly, rose, and went over to bar the door with her throw-bolt, demurely observing, “I don’t like it when people barge in without knocking. You know what she was expecting us to be up to, don’t you?”
Longarm murmured, “One Ahead is used by mind readers, pretending to read written messages handed to them from the audience before they open the envelope.”
Lucy insisted, “I heard she was sweet on you, the poor old thing. When some gossip told her we were up here together alone …”
“The stage magician ain’t reading the message in the envelope he’s holding up sealed. He’s repeating what was in the envelope he opened ahead of it. Everyone who’s submitted a message knows what he or she wrote down. So of course they think the magician must be the bee’s knees when they hear their message being read, never considering the rascal just opened another envelope right in front of ‘em!”
Lucy said, “I can see how that silly stage trick works. What are we going to do about Undersheriff Brennan? I mean, we’re going to have to be very discreet if she already suspects us!”
Longarm nodded and told her, not unkindly, “Sometimes your best bet is to keep life simple. Those French bedroom farces are only funny on stage. In real life nobody laughs. I like this proven claim up in the Nebraska cattle country. It ain’t so far. I could likely get there faster by rail, even allowing for some tricky transfers. For trains move
