grazing alongside the North Platte. They elected him county sheriff because he scouted for the cav during Red Cloud's War north of Fort Laramie and kept his hair when all about him were losing their own. Like I said, I told Simp we were catching Ned from other parts when his shemale deputies got past three killings in one season. Simp says he never told nobody to shoot nobody, male or shemale. I told you he had to be elected up yonder, and Keller's Crossing is named after old Dutch Keller, founder of the considerable Keller cattle clan in them parts.'
Longarm nodded soberly and said, 'I was wondering how Edith Penn Keller of Keller's Crossing got appointed justice of the peace. What can you tell me about Rita Mae Reynolds, appointed undersheriff for her township by the doubtless grateful Sheriff Glover?'
Marshal Morris shifted the stogie between his bared teeth and told Longarm, 'A heap of Keller's Crossing residents who ain't named Keller seem to be named Reynolds. I know what you're thinking. It's still the way things work in tight-knit rural townships. Boss Tweed took care of his kith and kin in New York City, and Boss Buckley is still taking care of his kith and kin out Frisco way. Neither you, me, nor nobody can reform such setups until and unless somebody in the catbird seat really fucks up.'
'What do you call deputizing young gals and sending them clean out of the territory to shoot folk?' Longarm soberly demanded.
Morris shrugged and replied in an easy tone, 'Good riddance? We ain't talking about young gals shooting folk! Every man jack of them eight wants was an outlaw with a rep who'd made the mistake of armed robbery in or about Keller's Crossing!'
'How come?' asked Longarm, mildly pointing out, 'There's hardly anything up yonder but a bitty trail town surrounded by miles of open range. As far as I've been able to see from the onion skin reports I was issued, ain't one case of stock theft been reported. All eight of those dead outlaws were accused of taking cash and valuables at gunpoint.'
Morris nodded, saying, 'I read the same crime statistics. Keller's Crossing sits at the junctions of east-west and north-south trails. It serves as both a handy river ford and the best layover for travelers switching betwixt stagecoach and rail.'
'Like a spider in the middle of its web?' asked Longarm dryly.
Morris shrugged and answered simply, 'I suspect Dutch Keller had more honest profits in mind when he staked out his claims along the North Platte just south of what was then pure Sioux Country. In any case, there the town sits, and outlaws will fly in and out of the web for fun and profit. Undersheriff Reynolds, being a gal, herself, may favor gal deputies more than you or me might. Our own judges already warned Justice Keller not to put down dead-or-alive on those arrest warrants anymore.'
'You mean she still gets to issue the dumb writs?' Longarm asked.
Morris said, 'Sure she does. We told her she only has the power to order a suspect arrested and hauled in to be remanded to higher county authorities. Said authorities agree things might have gotten a mite out of hand. But, meanwhile, Undersheriff Rita Mae had the same right as any other peace officer to deputize pro tem under the old common law of posse comitatus.'
Longarm grimaced and said, 'Posse comitatus is one thing, and sweet young things executing criminals without a trial is another. Leaving aside the rights or wrongs under common law, what sort of paid-up peace officer would deputize an armed and dangerous young gal to... Son of a stupid cotton-picking bitch!'
'I hope you ain't talking about me,' Marshal Morris said quietly.
Longarm sighed and said, 'Nope. Talking about me! It's so easy to point out the mistakes of others until you catch your fool self in the very same mistakes!'
Morris asked, 'Are you saying you've been deputizing and arming young gals, old son?'
To which Longarm was forced to reply, 'Only one. So far. But a man can sure feel foolish when he looks in the mirror to see egg on his own face!'
CHAPTER 7
Longarm was grateful for his sensible denim jacket and open shirt collar as he trudged down Central Avenue with his brain chasing its own tail.
It was a typical summer afternoon on the high plains, with the thin air conspiring with the naked sun in a cloudless cobalt blue sky to surprise folk. It felt like someone had just opened a furnace door whenever he crossed a sunlit patch of plank walk or mummy-dust side street, but it was pleasantly cool in any shade, thanks to the way a body got to sweat so dry at this altitude.
His thoughts were in more of a whirl as he considered how easy, and how innocent, it might be for an undersheriff more sissy than his ownself to come up with the notion of recruiting a woman to aid and abet the law. It was easier for an innocent-looking gal to pussyfoot up to a suspect and ask questions, or pull triggers, than it might be for the least ferocious-looking boy. Since word had gone 'round about that harmless-looking Kid Antrim, Billy the Kid, or whatever the little shit was calling himself lately, a halfway-sober gunslick tended to think twice before he let down his guard in the company of a skinny little runt he didn't know right well. But gents who didn't grin like shit-eating dogs at pretty gals were seldom found along the Owlhoot Trail to begin with.
He'd decided to just send Daisy on her way and proceed the usual way as he mounted the steps of the Western Union office near the depot.
But as he was block-lettering the telegram form to Billy Vail, he pictured how she was going to take it when he just told her to go hop another freight train. He'd told her she had a job at four bits a day, however temporary. After that he still couldn't see how the hell farm girls or shop clerks in the full flush of youth as well as skirts went about tracking down experienced owlhoot riders.
He explained about Daisy Gunn and his future plans for her as he lettered on. He had to send this already windy field report at nickel a word flat rates if he expected his home office to get it before it was too late in the day to matter. So he didn't waste nickels asking them to see if there were any wants out on little Daisy Gunn. He knew Henry would get cracking in the file room before Billy ordered him to scout her good.
He told them where he'd be that afternoon and which train they meant to catch to Fort Laramie after dark. Then he told the telegraph clerk to reverse the charges, and he left Western Union with a less troubled mind, humming the words to that old church song he often recalled at such times. It went,
'Farther along, we'll know more about it. Farther along, we'll understand why. Cheer up, my brothers, walk in the sunshine. We'll understand it, All by and by.'
'There's got to be some iron-fisted man behind that velvet glove handing out cheap badges and childish arrest warrants,' he decided, in spite of the advice he'd just given himself. It was all right, if not downright smart, for a lawman to keep changing his mind as he stepped through the sunlight and shadow of a mysterious world. Men in any line who made up their minds before all the cards had been dealt were most likely to get up from the table broke.
He came upon a lady's notions shop a block farther along and ducked inside to see about some decent duds for his raggedy recruit at the hotel. A little old lady with hair the color of a barbed-wire coil and an ass that wasn't half bad said she'd be proud to rustle him up a blue and yellow print frock if he'd tell her the size of his young lady.
Longarm squinted thoughtfully down at the little old lady in a manner to bring some color to her dear old cheeks as he decided, 'She's about your height, but not built quite as curvaceous, ma'am. I reckon any pretty frock you could fit your own fine figure in would be safe for her to slip into.'
The little old lady laughed in a surprisingly young tone and got some frocks to choose between from out back. Longarm could see at a glance how nice one print featuring yellow asters on a robin's-egg-blue background would offset Daisy's coloring. So he allowed he'd take it and added the gal might be able to use a travel duster to wear over her finery.
Finding an ankle-length tan poplin duster in the right size was easier. The elderly but nicely put-together shop lady balked when he asked her to hoist her skirts and throw one foot up on the counter.
She asked him what on earth he thought she was selling, and Longarm, almost blushed, his ownself, as he explained he had to pick out some shoes and socks for that other lady.
The one he was talking to asked if he couldn't check the size of the shoes his young lady was already wearing.
He didn't want to explain checking into the Pilgrim with a raggedy barefoot waif, so he allowed it was supposed to be a birthday surprise.
That worked. The little old lady lined up a whole mess of high-button shoes on the counter for him to make
