Longarm #399 : Longarm and the Grand Canyon Murders (9781101554401) (6 page)

“That’s good.”

She put down her paper and smiled. “So, when are we leaving tomorrow morning on the stagecoach?”

“Well, we’re not,” he said, deciding to get right to the point. “I couldn’t find a buggy or coach, so I rented us a couple of horses and a pack burro.”

“What!” She dropped her newspaper and stared at him. “Are you crazy! The clerk down at the registration desk said that it was over a hundred miles up to the Grand Canyon.”

“More like a hundred and forty.”

“I can’t ride that far!”

“Have you ever ridden a horse?”

“No, and I’m not going to start tomorrow morning.”

Longarm took a chair. “Listen,” he said. “I’ve got to leave in the morning, and I can’t wait around for the stagecoach, but…
you
can.”

“You’re suggesting that I wait here and take the coach while you ride out by yourself?”

“That’s exactly what I’m suggesting,” Longarm told her. “There is no point in you suffering saddle sores, blisters, and all the hardships of the trail. I’ll go on, and you follow on the stagecoach. That way, we’ll both be happier.”

Heidi’s lips turned down at the corners. “I don’t like this very much.”

“I know you don’t,” Longarm told her, “but think hard about it. You’ve never ridden before, and you would be miserable riding a horse that many miles. The insides of those lovely thighs would become blistered, and the blisters would burn like fire and weep. Is that what you want?”

“Of course not.”

“Then do as I suggest and wait here in the lap of
luxury and come on the stage. I’ve made arrangements for two horses, but that can be changed in the morning, and I’ll tell him to hold a seat on Wednesday’s stagecoach for you.”

Heidi got up and came to sit in Longarm’s lap. She kissed his face and whispered, “I don’t want you to leave me.”

“I can travel a lot faster alone,” he said frankly. “And you’d suffer too much on horseback.”

“But what if something terrible happens to you before I get to this place called Lees Ferry?”

“Better something terrible happens to just me rather than us both, if it came to that. And if it does, I’d want you safe. I’d want you to take care of…of things if I couldn’t.”

Tears welled up in her eyes. “This kind of talk upsets me, Custis.”

“I’ll be fine and so will you. The stage line’s owner is named John Wallace, and he’s a good, solid man. He’ll see that you’re kept safe and that you reach me by Friday or Saturday.”

“I’ll have to ride in a stagecoach for two or three days?”

“It will be an adventure,” Longarm told her. “Remember how you told me that you love adventures?”

“Yes, but not alone.”

“You won’t be alone,” he told her. “There will be other passengers on the stagecoach. You’ll probably meet some nice and interesting people.”

“I doubt that.”

“Heidi, try to be reasonable. This is the best way.”

“Custis,” she whispered, “my heart tells me to get on a horse and ride a hundred and forty miles…but my head says otherwise.”

“I want those lovely silken thighs to stay lovely and silken,” he told her as he slipped his hand between her legs and kissed her lips.

“All right,” she finally agreed. “I’ll wait. But what am I supposed to do for the next three days in this lumber town?”

“You’ll think of something.”

She wasn’t pleased, but she was resigned. “Let’s get into the bathtub while it’s still hot.”

“I’d like that,” he said. “Nice things can happen when a man and a woman get in a bathtub.”

“You’d probably drown me if you got excited.”

“You could be on top,” he said, chuckling.

“Then I might drown
you
!”

Longarm scooted her off his lap and began to undress. He figured that this bath was going to be just the thing to take their mind off the difficult days that most surely awaited them both.

“When are the drinks coming up to our room?”

“Any minute now.”

“Then maybe we ought to wait a few minutes so we don’t shock the nice Chinaman like we did that poor fella on the train when he stuck his head into our compartment.”

Heidi, remembering, burst into wild laughter and started undressing anyway.

Longarm left their hotel room early the next morning while Heidi was still sleeping. He had a slight hangover and was tired from lack of sleep, but he figured that a good breakfast, a few cups of strong coffee, and he’d be up to snuff again. He had his rifle and personals and was ready to get started on his journey up to Lees Ferry.

The Pine Cone Café was just opening when Longarm entered, and he finished a hearty breakfast as the sun came up over the eastern horizon. By seven, he had gone to the livery to meet John Wallace.

“My wife won’t be coming along on horseback,” he explained. “She’s never really ridden before, and I convinced her to take your stagecoach up to the Grand Canyon along with your other passengers.”

“That’s probably a smart idea,” the liveryman grudgingly admitted, “but I would have made more money if you’d have rented two horses.”

“How many passengers have you got booked on the stagecoach coming up on Wednesday?”

“Three, and now your wife makes four.” Wallace smiled. “There are always a couple more that buy tickets at the last minute, and a full coach is six.”

“Save a seat for my wife, who will be by today or tomorrow for her ticket,” Longarm told the man as they went to get the horses.

“The truth is,” Wallace said, “if the word got out that a man could sit close to your lovely wife for three days in a stagecoach, I’d have a line of ticket takers stretching out into the street.”

Longarm chuckled. “Heidi is a looker, all right.”

“Prettiest woman I’ve seen in years,” the liveryman said, “maybe ever.”

Longarm couldn’t argue the point.

“You sure are a lucky man to have a wife that beautiful.”

Longarm felt guilty about the deception, but he and Heidi had just decided it would be easier all the way around for them both if people thought they were married. So he nodded and said, “Let’s get the horses saddled. I want to get a good start on the day.”

“It’s going to be warm,” Wallace told him. “But not too hot. You should make good time.”

“Think I can be up to Lees Ferry by tomorrow night?”

“You might be able to do that, but you’d have to really put the move on.”

“Tell you what,” Longarm said. “How about I forget the pack animal and just take one fast horse? I can probably buy any supplies along the way that I can’t stuff into a saddlebag.”

John Wallace shook his head. “Every time you open your mouth I’m losin’ more money.”

“Sorry about that,” Longarm told him. “But just
remember that you’re going to sell out every seat on your stagecoach after my wife buys a ticket.”

“Yeah, there is that, I reckon.”

Thirty minutes later, Longarm was in the saddle and galloping north out of Flagstaff. He reckoned it was still before nine o’clock, and the horse that he and Wallace had decided was best was a fine-looking buckskin mare. She had long legs and a pretty black tail and mane.

“Her name is Sassy and she’s the best horse I own,” Wallace had told him. “If you lame her or lose her, it’ll cost you an even hundred dollars.”

“I don’t intend to do either. I’ll push the mare, but I won’t ruin good horseflesh.”

“I knew you’d promise me that. Otherwise, I’d have given you a far lesser animal.”

Now, with the mare set at a steady jog that would carry him farther and faster, Longarm climbed over a high rise and then rode down toward the vast Coconino Plateau country. By midday he’d reached what was called the Little Grand Canyon but was in fact a mostly dry canyon, where an old Navajo trading post stood on the edge of the south cliff. The trading post looked to be prosperous, and there were quite a few Indian ponies and supply wagons tied in front of the post.

Longarm dismounted and tied the buckskin mare off a ways by herself. He knew that the locals would take note of Sassy’s exceptional looks, and he was a little worried that some young Navajo just might untie the mare, leap into the saddle, and ride like hell for parts unknown.

Still, he had a need to buy a few basic supplies along with cigars and a box of ammunition for his rifle…
maybe a warm Navajo blanket in case the nights got chilly and some jerky and coffee.

When he entered the trading post, all conversation stopped. The room was filled with Navajo families; cute little kids with big black eyes and women who wore long and colorful velvet skirts and turquoise and silver jewelry.

Longarm nodded to everyone and they finally nodded back. Like most Indian trading posts he’d visited, this one was packed with all sorts of interesting goods. Mostly it had big rolls of sheep wool and pelts along with barrels of pickles, crackers, and pigs’ feet.

“Howdy,” a white man said in greeting, from behind the glass counter filled with silver and turquoise. “What can I get for you today?”

Longarm gave the clerk his short order. “I carry everything you need, but I’m sorry that I can’t sell you any whiskey on the reservation.”

“I didn’t ask to buy any,” Longarm replied. “But I could use some chili peppers and two pounds of salted pork along with the other things I’ve already mentioned.”

“Won’t take but a few minutes to fill your order. In the meantime, you can mosey around and see if there’s anything else that catches your eye.”

“Oh, there are probably plenty of things that I’d like to buy…but I’m on a tight budget.”

“We’ve got some real fine Navajo jewelry on sale,” the clerk told him, tapping the top of the glass and looking down at the assortment of jewelry. “I’ve been told that Navajo jewelry brings quite a price back east.”

“I’m from Denver and I don’t need any jewelry.”

“Suit yourself,” the clerk said with a curt smile as he hurried off to fill the order.

For the next twenty minutes, Longarm wandered
around in the trading post looking at the amazing variety of goods. Horseshoes, bows and arrows, old cap-and-ball pistols, knives with beautiful handles of silver inlay and blades long enough to qualify as sabers, foods that looked as though they might be highly toxic to a white man’s stomach, and leather goods—shirts, moccasins, and many other items, all intricately beaded in many designs—rocks with crystals and turquoise in them, petrified wood, even seashell necklaces. But it was the withered mummy in a pine coffin with a glass top that really caught Longarm’s full attention.

The mummy was small, perhaps only five feet long, and his skin stretched over his prominent facial and skeletal bones like old parchment paper. His hair was black and adorned with two eagle feathers, giving Custis the impression that the ancient Indian had died young. There was a death grin on his thin lips, and most of the mummy’s teeth were missing. He wore a faded old animal skin, but someone had obviously slipped a few turquoise rings on his bony fingers and a silver bracelet on his left wrist to dress up his appearance.

Longarm stared at the mummy for several minutes. So this was what a body looked like after it had lain untouched in some arid and ancient cliff dwelling for hundreds and hundreds of years.

“His name is Indian Joe,” the clerk said, coming up behind Longarm. “I call all the ones that look like warriors Indian Joe.”

“Where did he come from?”

“Beats the hell out of me. Could be anywhere around here or up in Colorado. People…mostly white prospectors and trappers…bring them in here to sell or trade. I don’t like to keep more than a few of ’em on display at the same time.”

Longarm couldn’t hide his astonishment. “People actually
buy
these things?”

“Oh, yes!” The clerk snapped his suspenders. “And you won’t believe the price they pay.”

“How much for this poor Indian Joe?” Longarm had to ask out of curiosity.

“Two hundred and fifty dollars, which includes the jewelry, his clothes, and the pine box…but not any money for transporting him down to Flagstaff to be put on a train.”

Longarm whistled. “Why on earth would anyone pay that kind of money for a mummy?”

“Because if they can get Indian Joe back to the East Coast museums of natural history, he will easily bring a thousand dollars. Trouble is…and I tell all my buyers this right up front…these mummies are
extremely
fragile. You bump one and an arm might fall off, or the foot. I’ve heard that some of these mummies have arrived by train in places like Boston or New York looking like piles of dust and leather. Of course, then they are worthless except for the value of the skulls.”

“Of course.” Longarm shook his head. “I’d have thought that the local Navajo might have taken exception to their ancestors being carted off to some museum.”

“Oh, some of them do…some don’t. It’s really about the money. To keep down the objections from the locals, I do promise them twenty percent of every dollar I make selling their mummified ancestors.”

“That’s real white of you, mister.” Longarm had seen enough of the mummy for one lifetime and marched back to the counter, where his supplies were bagged and waiting.

“Be five dollars and eighty-six cents. I saw you are
riding a fine buckskin. How about a few pounds of oats and maybe even some sugar cubes for the animal?”

Longarm had forgotten to get oats from John Wallace. “That would be a good idea.”

“Horse need shoein’?” the man asked. “We do that for six dollars.”

“That’s pretty high, isn’t it?”

“Not for a good job. If you’re taking the road up to the Grand Canyon, you’ll find it’s damned rocky. Indian ponies, of course, have feet like iron and they get by…but a fine buckskin like that could go lame if she is unshod or even poorly shod.”

“She’s okay,” Longarm said, picking up his packages and heading for the door.

“Come back again! I’ll most likely have a better selection of mummies next time.” He laughed and then he winked. “Maybe even a girl or two.”

Longarm was so disgusted by the idea of stealing bodies and selling them off as curiosity pieces that he didn’t even reply.

When he left the trading post, two Navajo dressed in denim work shirts, buckskin breeches, and moccasins were studying the mare from every angle.