Longarm 242: Red-light (15 page)

“I thought we'd finish this off,” she said. “No use leaving a soldier only wounded.”

Mallory kept one hand on Nola's wrist and used the other to pick up the cork and jam it back into the neck of the bottle. “Nope,” he declared. “I've had enough panther piss for now. What I ain't had enough of lately is you, darlin'.”

Nola didn't see any way out of this predicament short of going to bed with him. She didn't want to make him angry again. The success of the plans she and Custis had begun to hatch depended on keeping Mallory feeling friendly toward her for a while longer.

Determinedly, she kept smiling and said, “All right.”

“That's more like it.” Mallory came to his feet and pulled her up with him, his grip tightening on her wrist. “Come on.”

He led her toward the stairs. Nola felt empty inside, knowing that the bartenders and her girls and all the customers in the Silver Slipper were watching. They all knew where Mallory was taking her, too, and why.

The life she had led, whether it was truly her choice or not, had never really bothered her before. Things were the way they were, and it was up to her to make the best of them.

But now, after meeting Custis Long and getting to know him, her attitude had subtly changed. Custis had his rough edges, but he was a good man, an honest man. She knew, as well, that he would never judge her for the things she had done in her life in order to survive.

No, Custis wouldn't judge her ... but that didn't stop Nola from judging herself, and for the first time in years, she was starting to find herself lacking.

When she and Mallory reached the top of the stairs, Nola turned to the left, rather than the right. There was an empty room down the corridor in this direction that they could use.

She was hoping that Mallory wouldn't notice the change, but he tugged at her wrist and said, “Hey, where are we goin'? Your room's the other way.”

“I've had to move out of that room for now,” she said. “There are, ah, rats in it.”

Mallory grinned, pulled his Colt from its holster, and twirled it on one finger like some kid from a Wild West Show. “Just show me them rats, and I'll blow their damned heads off!”

“No, that's all right.” Nola tried to steer him the other direction. “I already have traps set. You wouldn't want to accidentally step on one of them.”

“I reckon not.” Mallory holstered his gun. “Well, let's go. I don't really care where it is, long as I get to poke you when we get there.”

Somehow, Nola kept smiling ...

Longarm was cleaning his gun when Nola came into the room. He hadn't used the Colt in a week, and cleaning it made him feel as if he was at least accomplishing something. Ever since he had awakened that morning, impatience had been growing inside him. Yes, he was still a little weak, he supposed, and if he moved too quickly or turned in the wrong way, his side hurt where the bullet had ripped through it.

But despite all that, damn it, it was time for him to get back to work! He had been laid up before, and he had always hated every minute of it whenever a job was left undone. The only times he could truly relax were between assignments from Billy Vail.

So he supposed he looked a little eager when Nola came in and said, “Mallory was here.”

Longarm snapped the revolver's cylinder closed. “Is he still around?”

She shook her head and looked away from him. “No, he left a few minutes ago.”

“Blast it,” said Longarm as he got to his feet, “you should've got word to me somehow—”

“Why?” she broke in as she turned sharply back toward him. “So you could have come busting in while he actually had me in bed with him?”

Longarm frowned. Despite what Nola had said the day before, obviously she didn't like the part she was now being forced to play with Mallory. He couldn't blame her for that. He had never liked the idea from the start, in fact.

“Listen,” he said, “you don't have to do that again. Mallory's my job—”

She stopped him again, this time with a sigh and a wave of her hand. “I'm sorry, Custis. I didn't mean for you to see how upset I am. Anyway, I found out some of the things we wanted to know. Mallory and his gang are definitely behind the silver robberies. He practically admitted as much to me.”

Longarm slid the Colt back into its holster and set the coiled gunbelt on the small table next to the chair where he had been sitting. He stepped over to Nola and drew her into his arms. “That's what we figured,” he said. “You didn't have to play up to him just to find that out.”

“There's more,” said Nola as she looked up at him. “He told me that his hideout is in the mountains somewhere. He said that the whites don't bother him there, or the Paiutes, and that he isn't afraid of dead people. What do you think he meant by that?”

It took a few moments of thinking, of casting his mind back over the trails he had ridden in the past, before Longarm had the answer. Nola had never been in these parts until she came to Galena City to open the Silver Slipper. If she had spent more time in this corner of Nevada, she might have come up with the same thought as Longarm.

“There's a place up toward Virginia Peak where the Paiutes used to bury their dead,” Longarm said. “They won't come near the place, and there's no silver thereabouts, so the whites don't have any reason to be there, either. That sure sounds to me like it might be where Mallory is talking about.”

Nola cocked her head. “An Indian burial ground? You must be right, Custis. No one would think of looking for Mallory there.”

“Is that where he's got the loot from the other robberies stashed?”

She nodded and said, “I think so.”

Longarm rasped a thumbnail along his jaw as he frowned in thought. “Mallory probably leaves some of his men up there all the time, even when he comes into town,” he mused. “He wouldn't want to ride off and leave all that silver unguarded.” He shrugged. “Well, we'll chew that bite of the apple when we come to it. For now, I reckon we have to concentrate on dabbing a loop on Mallory himself.”

“You mean setting a trap for him.”

“That's right,” said Longarm. “I did some cowboying for a few years after the Late Unpleasantness, and sometimes the way we talked then still comes out in me. A trap is exactly what I've got in mind, and I've already been doing some thinking about how to set it. One thing's for sure—we know the best bait for Mallory. Silver.”

Nola was thinking, too. She said, “If Mallory thought that a big shipment was about to go out—”

“He'd be there waiting for it,” Longarm finished for her.

“So all we have to do—”

“Me,” Longarm broke in. “Not you, Nola, just me. I have to be waiting for Mallory when he tries to hit the stagecoach the silver is supposed to be on. But it'll be your job to plant the idea in his head and make sure he comes after the right coach.”

“I can do that,” she said confidently, “but it worries me, Custis, the idea of you trying to capture Mallory by yourself. You're just starting to recover from that gunshot wound.”

“I'll be fine,” Longarm assured her. He drew her into his arms again and kissed her lightly on the lips. “After the way you've taken care of me for the past week, I feel like a whole new man.”

That wasn't completely true. Longarm knew he wasn't back to full strength yet. But it would take a while to set up the trap for Ben Mallory, and by the time the trap was ready to close, Longarm was confident he would be there, waiting to see Mallory caught in it.

 

Before the gunfight with Mallory's men had left him wounded and lying low in the Silver Slipper, Longarm hadn't had a chance to talk to the manager of the stage station in Galena City. He would have gotten around to it if a bullet hadn't gotten in his way. Now it was time to have a long parley with the man.

“His name is Claude Jessup,” Nola told Longarm as they discussed their plans. “He comes in occasionally for a drink, but he never goes upstairs with one of the girls.”

“You reckon you could get him up here to talk to me?” asked Longarm. “If you could get word to him that I had a message from his boss, Bat Thompson, down in Carson City, that might do the trick.”

Nola smiled. “Don't worry, I can talk just about any man into doing what I want, Custis, without him even knowing I'm doing it. Not all men are as stubborn and hardheaded as you are.”

“I'll take that as a compliment ... I think. I need to talk to Jessup as soon as you can manage it.”

Nola nodded and said again, “Don't worry about a thing.”

She was as good as her word. Less than an hour after she'd gone back downstairs, she returned, opening the door of her bedroom and stepping in with a balding, burly, middle-aged man arm in arm with her. He was laughing, but he stopped short and the pleased expression vanished abruptly from his face as he saw Longarm standing up from an armchair. “What's this?” he asked sharply. “Nola, you didn't say anything about another man! If this is a robbery—”

“Hold on, old son,” Longarm said as he held up a hand, palm out. “Nola didn't bring you up here so that we could rob you. In fact, I' m a lawman.”

“A lawman!” exclaimed Jessup. “What's this all about?”

“If Nola will shut the door, I'll tell you.” When Nola had closed the door to the corridor, Longarm went on quietly. “I thought you were going to tell Mr. Jessup here that I had a message from his boss.”

She shrugged. “That wasn't necessary. It seems that Mr. Jessup was more than willing to come upstairs. It was just that no one had ever asked him.” She frowned in mock severity. “I'm going to have to have a talk with those girls of mine.”

Jessup looked totally confused. “What's going on here?” he demanded. “If you're a lawman, mister, where's your badge?”

Longarm held up the leather folder. “Right here,” he said as he tossed it to Jessup. “Have a look for yourself.”

The manager of the stagecoach station seemed satisfied by the badge and the identification documents in the folder. He crossed the room and handed it back to Longarm. “All right, Marshal Long,” he said. “I suppose I believe you. But why all this secrecy?”

“Ben Mallory thinks I'm dead,” Longarm said bluntly, “and I'd just as soon keep it that way.”

Jessup's eyes widened as a realization dawned on him. “You're the man who shot that miner. You're the one they say killed Mrs. Keegan!”

Longarm shook his head vehemently. “They can say anything they want, but I never hurt that poor woman. Mallory's men did that. And yeah, I shot that miner, but only after he took a shot at me and wounded that newspaper fella instead. He wanted to give up mining and join Mallory's gang. Thought if he bushwhacked me, it would give him an in with Mallory.”

“I reckon it could've happened that way,” Jessup said dubiously. “It doesn't seem much like a U.S. marshal would really do the things you've been accused of.”

“That's right. I would have talked to you sooner, Mr. Jessup, but I caught a bullet from one of Mallory's boys not long after I got into town, and I've been holed up here in the Silver Slipper ever since.”

Jessup glanced at Nola, grunted, and said, “I suppose there's plenty of worse places to hide out.”

“That's mighty true,” replied Longarm with a grin. “But I'm getting back on my feet, and I'm ready to go after Mallory again. That's where you come in.”

Jessup looked surprised. “You want to, what, deputize me or something?”

“Nope. I just need your help in setting up a trap for Mallory.”

“Then I'm your man,” said Jessup with a curt nod. “I'll do anything you want, Marshal, if it'll help bring that bastard to justice.” He glanced at Nola. “Beggin' your pardon for my language, ma'am.”

“That's all right, Claude,” Nola told him. “Mallory is a bastard. A gold-plated one, in fact.”

Longarm couldn't have agreed more, but he didn't want to waste time standing around talking about what a sorry son Mallory was. He said, “I talked to your boss, old Bat Thompson, down in Carson City, but he didn't tell me what the schedule is up here in these parts. How often do the coaches run to and from Galena City?”

“Twice a week,” replied Jessup. “This is the end of the line, so when the coach gets here it just turns around and heads back to Virginia City and then on down to Carson City. The schedule calls for the coaches to roll in every Sunday and Wednesday at noon, and by God, we stick to it.” There was pride in his voice.

Longarm nodded, then realized that despite his best intentions, he had lost track of what day it was. That was easy to do when all a fella had to do was laze around and be waited on hand and foot by beautiful women. He looked at Nola and asked, “What day is it?”

“Monday,” she said. “The stagecoach left yesterday.”

“Won't be another until Wednesday noon,” added Jessup.

Longarm accepted the information with another nod. That worked out pretty well, he thought. He would have a couple of days to set the snare for Mallory.

“Have any of the mines around here shipped out any silver lately?” he asked.

Jessup shook his head. “Not for several weeks. They're all scared that it won't get through.”

“Well,” said Longarm, “that's about to change ...”

 

The plan depended on Mallory coming into the Silver Slipper before the stagecoach made its run on Wednesday. Longarm sweated that out, and when Mallory didn't appear on Monday night, his worry grew. Of course, if Mallory didn't show up on Tuesday, the plan could still be put into effect a few days later, using the coach that would arrive in Galena City at noon on Sunday.