?What?s that??
?Those people you?re wanting to arrest??
?Yeah??
?I can?t call my boys to take them in, Longarm.?
?Why the hell not??
?Longarm.? Thomas grinned now. ?Those are my boys. I, uh, figured I?d hide ?em in plain sight.?
?Aw
shit!? If Longarm had had something in his hands to throw he damn sure would have thrown it. ?So where are the fucking White Hoods??
Jack Thomas shrugged. ?Beats the hell outa me, Longarm. There isn?t a man on this platform that I haven?t known for at least the past year and a half. The only stranger I see anywhere around here is you. And I don?t guess you?re the damn White Hood Gang all by yourself.? He snickered. ?By the way,? he added, ?you know our good sheriff?s chief deputy??
?Sure.?
?I just left him in the shack there. He?s all huddled up in a corner looking ready to puke from being scared so bad.?
?Well, tough shit,? Longarm complained.
?Yeah,? Thomas agreed. ?Look, why don?t we go over and help unload the payroll shipment. What I think is that we better put it all under guard tonight until the disbursements tomorrow. Just in case your White Hoods are still hanging around wanting the stuff.?
Longarm nodded. ?I agree. We don?t know what scared them off this afternoon, but whatever it was, there?s no guarantee they won?t make a try for it yet.? He sighed. ?My hopes sure were high, though, Jack.?
?I know what you mean, Longarm. I know what you mean.? The two men walked toward the mail car, where the mail clerk was taking sacks of coin out of the safe and dropping them at the doorway for Thomas?s people?who by now had quit their drunken-miner act?to carry off to the small, stone-walled building that served Thunderbird Canyon as a bank.
Charlie Frye crawled down off the ore hopper and lent a hand. There still was no sign of either Roland Mayes or Paul Markham.
Chapter Nineteen
Now that the nervous energy of anticipation had all come crashing down into the despair of futility, Longarm felt like he was ready to collapse.
It was Friday afternoon and he?d had
what?
two or three hours of sleep since he woke up in Morey and Eugenie Fahnwell?s guest room on Wednesday morning.
Lances of sharp pain were shooting through his head from sheer fatigue, and he felt fuzzy and groggy-minded. like a man coming off a ten-day drunk. This wasn?t his idea of a fun time, and there was still some work to be done before he could find a bed to drop into.
Sheriff Markham and Chief Deputy Mayes put in an appearance in time to oversee the transfer of the payroll shipment to the bank. Obviously both men thought it safe now to appear on the streets again. Neither of them commented on their conspicuous absence when the White Hoods were supposed to hit.
If the idiots wanted to take charge and act tough now, Longarm decided, let them. The ambush was blown anyway. And, thank goodness, Thunderbird Canyon?s petty political problems were no worry of his. All Longarm wanted right now was to clear up a few other matters and get the hell gone on the first available train.
He followed the crowd to the bank and watched while the money?$72,319 in gold coin and a little silver for the small change?was placed into the cheese-box vault of mild steel.
?Chief Deputy Mayes will take the first watch tonight,? Markham said in an officious manner. ?Deputy Frye will relieve him at midnight.?
?With this much money at stake,? Thomas suggested, ?I think it would be a good idea if some of our security people assisted your men, Sheriff.?
?Excellent idea, Mr. Thomas. I accept,? Markham declared.
Interesting, Longarm thought, because it pretty much proved that Jack Thomas was not the man Paul Markham was fretting about come election time. Longarm was certain Markham was the kind of small-minded fool who would never accept even a perfect idea from an enemy. Not even if he could turn it to his own advantage. That seemed rather a pity for the town?s sake. Jack Thomas was twice the leader that Paul Markham could ever hope to be.
?You men don?t need me, then,? Longarm said.
Markham ignored him, but Thomas said, ?Lord, no, Longarm. You look like lukewarm death on the hoof. Go bunk out. If anything happens, I?ll call you.?
?Good enough.?
Longarm left the bank, but instead of turning toward the hotel and the much-needed bed that was waiting for him there, he climbed laboriously and painfully to the next street level, up the steep hill and down the narrow street toward Jessie?s Place. There was a certain pleasure he wanted to tend to there before he took time out for sleep.
?Mr. Long, isn?t it? Come in, please.? Jessie herself greeted him at the door, although it was early for normal business hours.
Even so, the place was busy enough, with a half a dozen girls?all of them young, all of them Mexican, all of them
