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Authors: Tabor Evans

BOOK: Longarm and the Wyoming Woman
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“You look happy,” Longarm said, sitting up and taking the coffee. “Don't tell me there is finally a ray of sunshine coming into our lives.”
“There is,” Addie told him. “Young Joel is conscious. I've already fed him breakfast and he ate like a horse.”
“Did he say anything?”
“He started to get out of bed, but then he felt the pain of his wounds and decided to stay put. I fed him and he thanked me. Nothing else was said between us.”
“Good,” Longarm told her. “I want to talk to him as soon as I've had some coffee and a chance to wake up a little. Very quickly, we'll see if Joel Crawford is smart . . . or obstinate and dumb.”
“I don't think he's dumb.”
“We'll find out soon enough,” Longarm replied, sitting up and gulping down the coffee. “How about a refill?”
“Coming up.”
Fifteen minutes later, Longarm was ready to confront Joel Crawford. The kid was pale and his head was bandaged, but he was fully alert. Longarm held a coffeepot in one hand and his cup in the other. “Good morning,” he said in a cheerful greeting.
Crawford's eyes narrowed. “What the hell is good about it?”
“I'd say there's plenty of good from your point of view,” Longarm told him. “After all, not many men live to see a morning after being shot with an eight-gauge scattergun. You were hit five times, so you need to consider yourself very lucky.”
“Well, I don't,” Crawford replied. “What happened to Casey and the others that I was riding with?”
“They're all dead and buried,” Longarm told the young gunfighter. “I planted them yesterday before their bodies even had time to get cold and stiff.”
Crawford shook his bandaged head in disbelief. “Are you saying that I'm the
only
one that survived?”
“That's right.”
“I guess that does make me lucky, unless you intend to send me to the gallows.” Crawford's jaw muscles corded in defiance. “Marshal, if that's to be my fate, I'd rather have died with the others yesterday.”
Longarm sat down in a chair near the man's bed. “Joel, I'm going to give you a chance to turn your entire life around.”
“How do you know my name?” he asked with surprise.
Longarm extracted the bloodstained letter from his pocket and handed it to the young man. “Addie and I found this on your body. That's how we know that your name is Joel Crawford and you have a sweetheart who would like you to marry her before Christmas and then take her to California. Betsy sounds like a real nice girl.”
Crawford stared at his letter and some of the hardness left his voice. “Betsy is a fine girl . . . way too good for the likes of me.”
“She doesn't think so.”
Joel looked up. “Betsy would have been better off if I'd have died with the others. I'm no good for her or any other girl.”
Longarm was impressed by the young man's sincerity and said, “People can and do turn their lives around all the time. You're young and couldn't have done too many bad things yet.”
Crawford's laugh was cold and cutting. “That's a joke. I stole my pa's horse, rifle, and saddle. I also stole some of his hard-earned cash, too. So how low is that to steal from your own family who never had much of anything to spare?”
“Pretty low,” Longarm admitted. “But you can pay him back with interest once you put your mind to it.”
The handsome young man looked away for a moment. “Actually, I had intended to do just that with the pay I earned from Mr. Stoneman. Now that money is gone.”
“There are better ways to earn money than to work as a gunman for a man as ruthless and evil as Wade,” Longarm told the kid. “Have you killed anyone yet?”
“No.”
Longarm drank coffee. “Come close?”
Crawford shook his head. “To be honest, yesterday I was scared almost shitless when we rode into the yard and you stepped out with that big shotgun. I wanted to rein my horse around and run like the devil had ahold of my throat.”
“But you didn't.”
“If I had showed a yellow streak and if things would have turned out in our favor, Stoneman would have sent men after me and they wouldn't have given up until I was shot dead.”
Longarm took a swallow of coffee. “So it sounds like you're kinda stuck between a rock and a hard place.”
“I won't be hanged,” Crawford vowed, lifting a clenched fist. “I swear that I won't!”
“All right,” Longarm told him in a calm, reasonable voice. “Let's strike a deal.”
Crawford's eyes narrowed with suspicion. “What
kind
of a deal?”
“You testify against Wade Stoneman before a Cheyenne judge, and in return, I ask the judge to let you off easy. Is that simple enough?”
The wounded man studied Longarm for several moments, then said, “Maybe I don't want to testify against Mr. Stoneman. Maybe I don't even know enough about what he does to help you put a noose around his neck.”
Longarm didn't believe that even for a moment. “Joel, you know that Wade is behind the killings of three city councilmen and a former mayor. Did you have anything to do with those murders?”
Crawford swallowed hard. “I told you that I never killed anyone. But I was there when two of the councilmen were killed.”
“Was Stoneman there, too?”
“Yes.”
Longarm smiled. “That's all you need to tell a judge.”
“If I do that, I'll never live to see my twenty-first birthday.”
“Oh, yes, you will,” Longarm said. “Because once you've sworn that Wade was involved in murder, then I'll take care of him and you'll never have to look over your shoulder again.”
Crawford shook his head with disbelief. “Marshal, no one knows better than I do that you've got balls as big as watermelons. I realize that you're a man to be feared and respected. Casey was good, but even with all of us backing him, you still beat us. But . . .”
“But what?”
“But Mr. Stoneman has other gunmen. I don't think you can take him. You couldn't be that lucky twice.”
Longarm emptied his coffee cup. “You think what happened yesterday was about me getting lucky?”
“Sure. Some of it was luck.”
Longarm almost laughed. “Well, kid, just in case you didn't know better, whenever you have a shotgun in your fists, you are always holding a whole lot of luck.”
Crawford was forced to nod in agreement. “So you're promising me . . . what?”
“Nothing except that . . . if you testify against Wade Stoneman . . . I'll ask the judge to show you leniency.”
“And that means I won't hang, but I'll be sent to prison for the rest of my life?”
“I expect you might get a year in jail at the most,” Longarm said. “And if you do all that I ask, you might even get off with parole and probation. You could ride back to your Betsy, marry the girl, and go make a fresh start of it in California.”
Crawford shook his head with a laugh. “Man, you really know how to spin a line of bullshit!”
“I don't bullshit when it comes to my job,” Longarm told him. “And I said I couldn't guarantee anything. But if the judge in Cheyenne were to be too harsh with you, I'd take you to Denver and we'd talk to another judge. One that I know would look on you with favor.”
Crawford swallowed hard. “You're serious, aren't you?”
“I'm a serious and sudden man, Joel. You ought to know that by now.”
“I do and I'll do it,” he said, nodding his head with conviction. “I'd be plumb crazy not to take your offer.”
“Good.”
Addie stepped into the room. “I couldn't help but overhear your conversation and agreement. Joel, would you like another cup of coffee or any more breakfast?”
“No, ma'am. I'm full. My head hurts something awful. Worse than the wounds in my legs and side. How'd you get the lead out of my thick skull?”
“Actually,” Longarm said, “you didn't get shot there. I pistol-whipped you.”
“Damn, you
are
hell on wheels, aren't you, Marshal! First you shoot five holes in me, and then you crack my head open with the butt of your gun. Yesterday, when you stepped out on the porch, you were as cool as a skunk in the moonlight. You didn't show a trace of fear.”
“I do what's necessary. You and those others came to do harm to Jed Dodson and when you saw us, you meant to do us harm. Am I wrong?”
“No.”
“All right,” Longarm told the kid. “Addie is a doctor. She insists that we wait here a few days until you're strong enough to travel all the way down to Cheyenne.”
Crawford frowned. “I think we ought to go right away. Otherwise, Mr. Stoneman will come looking for us here and you can't expect that things will turn out the same as they did yesterday.”
“How many more gunfighters does he have?”
“Three or four. Casey was the best.”
“Then we have nothing to worry about because I still have the shotgun. Buckshot means a burying every time.”
“But it's only good at close range,” Crawford countered. “What you can expect the next time is an ambush from a longer range.”
“We'll make it,” Longarm promised. “One way or another, I'll get you to Cheyenne.”
“All right,” Crawford said. “And what about giving me back my gun?”
Longarm considered this request carefully. “If I do that, will you give me your word that you won't use it on me or Addie when our backs are turned?”
“I'll give you my word.”
“Fair enough,” Longarm said, sticking out his hand.
Crawford shook hands with him, and the kid's grip was surprisingly strong and well calloused.
“You've been working hard all your life, haven't you,” Longarm said.
“I'm the son of a sodbuster,” Crawford told him. “I've never known anything but hard work.”
“So when did you start to take the wrong road in life?”
“I dunno. I saw a shoot-out in our little town, and the man that won was looked upon with respect. I needed some respect, so I bought a gun and started practicing whenever I had enough money to buy ammunition. I asked the man that won the shoot-out if he'd teach me a thing or two about handling a pistol, and he did.”
“So you're fast on the draw and you can hit what you aim at?”
Joel Crawford nodded. “That's true.”
“Good,” Longarm told him. “Because if we get jumped trying to reach Cheyenne, then I expect you to stand by Addie and me and help us in a fight.”
“I will,” he said. “That's a fine woman. You gonna marry her?”
Longarm smiled. “I'm not the marrying kind.”
“Maybe you need to change your life the way you want me to change mine,” Crawford said. “You couldn't do much better than to marry a woman like Miss Hudson.”
“I know that.”
Crawford touched his bandaged head. “Could be, Marshal, we both will learn a lot before we get to Cheyenne.”
“Could be,” Longarm said. “But I already know enough about Wade Stoneman to know that I'll either kill him or he'll kill me the next time we meet. It'll damn sure be a corpse-and-cartridge occasion.”
“I reckon that's true enough,” Crawford agreed. “But if he kills you, then I'm going to have to kill him.”
“Glad to hear that you see that clearly,” Longarm told the kid as he got up and left the room. “Get to feeling better fast, Joel. Because the hard truth of the matter is that we don't have time on our side. There was a lot of killing done yesterday, and there's still a lot more to come.”
Chapter 17
It was getting close to dark and they were planning to make a run for Cheyenne, but there was a problem . . . two problems actually.
“How long have those two men been out there watching my ranch?” Addie asked.
Longarm was standing by the front window just behind the curtains so that he couldn't be seen. “They arrived about an hour ago while you were taking a nap.”
“What are we going to do now?” she asked, looking anxious.
Longarm considered the question, then said, “We'll wait and see if they ride back to Buffalo Falls and report to Wade when the sun goes down.”
“And if they don't?”
“Then I'll have to pay their campsite a visit tonight.”
Addie nodded with understanding. “They're Stoneman's men, right?”
“Have to be,” Longarm said.
“Do you think they know about all the horses hidden in my barn?”
“I doubt it,” Longarm told her. “But by now, Wade has to know that Casey failed and most likely is dead along with the others he sent. What's important is that they don't know that young Joel Crawford is with us and still breathing.”
“He's not up to making a run for it, Custis. If we have to gallop, that side wound of his will reopen and he'll likely bleed to death before we get to Cheyenne.”
“I don't intend to run,” Longarm told her. “Let's just sit tight and see if those two hang around tonight or ride on back to Buffalo Falls.”
 
“It's midnight,” Longarm said, checking his pocket watch. “And I don't see a campfire anywhere out there, but I have the feeling those two are still hanging around waiting and watching. Guess I'll have to go out and pay 'em a late-night visit.”
“Do you want me to come along with you just in case?”
“In case I get shot?” Longarm shook his head. “I can handle this. But if something should go wrong, then you and Crawford need to strike out for Cheyenne. Get him to a judge the moment you reach town. It's the only way to stop Wade.”

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