Longarm and the Wyoming Woman (3 page)

“Custis!”

Longarm waved and strolled between the desks at his office. He could see his boss, Billy Vail, gesturing wildly for him to come right in at once. But Longarm didn't hurry, and his coworkers were grinning because he was defiantly their outlaw, the maverick of the office. They knew that he could get away with plenty because he was indispensable. Still, coming in on Monday in the middle of the afternoon with lipstick smeared on his cheek was sure to create quite a row with the boss.

“Where the hell have you been all morning!” Billy shouted. “Close that door.”

Longarm turned to see the office staff watching in anticipation. “Sorry, folks,” he said, closing the door to Billy's private office.

He could see the disappointment on their faces, but there was no help for it, so he turned around, grinned, and said, “Hello there, Billy! I hope your week is off to a good start.”

It was a deliberate jab meant to get a strong reaction from his boss, and it worked. “A good start! Dammit, Custis, who do you think you are, King Solomon? Everyone else who works in this building—and there must be a hundred or more—seems capable of arriving to work on time. But not you! No, not the great Longarm! Can't you understand that you set a terrible example, especially for the newer people? How am I expected to have any discipline in this office if I allow you to come and go whenever you feel like it!”

Longarm pulled a cheroot out of his vest pocket and took a seat. “Want a smoke?” he offered with a smile.

“Hell, no! You smoke
dog turds
!”

“Wrong,” Longarm said, still smiling as he scratched a match on the bottom of his boot and lit up. “These are absolutely Mexico's finest.”

“Dog turds!” Billy reached into a humidor and produced a long, handsome Cuban cigar. “Now
these
are real cigars. And they don't smell like burning shit!”

“Ah, you're right,” Longarm said in pleasant agreement. “But you make so much more of a salary than I do that I just can't afford the best, Billy. When you're a poor, overworked deputy marshal, you have to drink and smoke what you can afford.”

“Oh, horseshit!”

Longarm raised his eyebrows in question. “Dogshit? Horseshit? Billy, you seem to be sorta fixated on shit today. What's the matter? Trouble at home? Want to talk about it man-to-man?”

Billy got red in the face and pounded his fine mahogany desk. “Don't you bait me today, Custis. I'm in no mood for it.”

Longarm blew a smoke ring at the ceiling and studied Billy, trying to figure out why he was so much on the prod today. It had to be more than the fact that Longarm was a few hours late to the office. Longarm knew that this man had once been a lowly field man like himself and he'd been good at his job, earning many commendations for bravery. But then Billy had gotten married, sired a passel of kids, and taken office promotions until now . . . now he was just another well-paid bureaucrat, a pudgy pencil pusher. But Marshal Billy Vail was still a fine, intelligent man, and Longarm figured it was time to get serious and show his boss a little badly needed respect.

“Billy,” he said, “I apologize for not coming in like everyone else this morning. I had fully intended to be on time, but I got into a fix when two muggers tried to rob a woman less than a block from our office. I had no choice but to step in and straighten things out.”

“Did you arrest 'em?”

“No. I killed 'em.”

Billy's jaw dropped. “Jaysus! You already
killed
two men this morning?”

“Yeah, I'm afraid so. But I swear that they had it coming. They actually assaulted two women. One of them was a sweet old lady that was so upset she was rushed to a doctor. So you see, Boss, I was working this morning to rid the city of two very dangerous criminals.”

Billy Vail never quite knew when Longarm was pulling his leg. His best deputy could do that with a straight face and you just didn't know if he was serious or on the level. With any of his other officers, the story that Billy had just heard would seem preposterous . . . but not with Longarm. With Longarm, damn near anything was possible.

“Give me the full story and don't leave out any details,” Billy ordered, leaning back in his office chair and puffing on his Cuban cigar.

Longarm told it straight, and ended up saying, “I took the young woman to the local police station and we gave sworn testimony to what happened and I wrote out their official report. The captain sent one of his men to the alley and they identified both of the bodies. Those men had mugged several other innocent women before and were wanted criminals. The captain thanked me over and over for saving him and his department the trouble of finding, arresting, and then sending them to court and prison.”

Billy was fiddling with a pencil. “Oh he did, did he?”

“Yep,” Longarm said. “Said I saved the taxpayers a lot of grief and money. Said he'd hire me in a minute if you decided to fire me for being so late to the office today.”

“Don't try to be funny,” Billy warned. “I'm not in the mood for your poor jokes today.”

“Billy, what's really wrong? You're more out of sorts than I've seen you in a long time.”

Billy sighed and leaned forward across his cluttered desk. “I'm sure you remember Wade Stoneman.”

Longarm scowled at the mention of that name. “Of course. We even worked a few cases together shortly after I came here.”

“Then you know that Wade Stoneman left this department under a bad cloud. Some of the federal prosecutors were livid when he was relieved of his duties and allowed to go without being arrested.”

Longarm remembered that being the case. “Stoneman was accused of murdering a witness and taking money for hire.”

“That's right. However, as I'm sure you are aware, the witness that would have sent Stoneman to either prison or the gallows was murdered and his killer was never found. Everyone was sure that Stoneman killed the man, but we couldn't get any evidence. People were scared to death of the man and nobody was talking. The result was that Wade Stoneman left Denver a free man. Some of us were relieved but torn with doubt because he'd been a fine federal marshal for a number of years. I don't have to tell you that he was the best man I had and he never failed me no matter how dangerous the case he was assigned. He was the best we had in this agency.”

Longarm's eyes narrowed. “The best before I joined up.”

“That's right,” Billy said. “Wade was smart, tough, and brave. Fearless actually. He lived hard and on the edge . . . somewhat like you live, Custis.”

“That's not quite true.”

“Be it true or not, Wade was a department legend. Wherever I sent him, he did the job and very rarely did he take prisoners.”

“He was a stone-cold killer,” Longarm said flatly. “He just had a federal officer's badge to hide behind all the blood he spilled.”

Billy leaned back in his chair. “Is that what you
really
thought of the man?”

“Yep. It was and still is.” Longarm's mood darkened at the memory of Stoneman. “I saw Wade shoot down two ragged kids not yet out of their teens who had stolen a sorry old saddle that couldn't have been worth more than two or three dollars.”

“You did?”

“That's right. It was in Cheyenne on a November day about as raw as this one. The kids were poor and stole the saddle intending to sell it for food or maybe fire-wood. Stoneman tracked them down that day and shot them without giving them the chance to go to jail. I doubt they'd even have spent a day in the local jail. But instead of a jail, they wound up in a damned cemetery.”

“Why didn't you stop him?” Billy asked, his voice reflecting shock and no small measure of bitterness.

“I wasn't there when the shooting happened. I'm sure that Wade knew I wouldn't allow him to kill those two boys, so he slipped out on me and cornered those young fellas, then gunned them down.”

“Sonofabitch!”

“Yeah, that's what he is,” Longarm said. “I heard him whistling ‘Dixie' that night just as happy as a song-bird. Wade Stoneman had no conscience. He was one of the most ruthless men I've ever known, and also one of the best with a gun or a rifle. For that matter, he was quite a knife fighter, too.”

Billy shook his head and studied the tip of his cigar. “How come you never told me about those boys that Wade gunned down?”

“What was the point?”

“Maybe we could have investigated and . . .”

“Bullshit!” Longarm swore. “Those boys were dead and I was new on the job. Back then, you thought Wade Stoneman was the second coming of Jesus Christ. He walked on water, Billy. Besides, I wasn't there to see the shooting, so I had to rely on an old man who saw it and was so scared of Marshal Stoneman that he told me what happened and then immediately left Cheyenne on the fastest horse he could buy. So, without proof of the murders, what could I do against a highly touted fellow law officer?”

“I see your point,” Billy admitted.

“Let's get back to the present,” Longarm suggested. “What has Wade Stoneman done now and why are we even talking about him?”

“He's completely gone over to the darkness,” Billy said. “He became a local marshal in Wyoming.”

“And?”

Billy picked up a telegram. “I got this as soon as I came to work this morning. It says that Wade Stoneman has recently gunned down four prominent men, three city councilmen and the mayor. Stoneman is now not only the new mayor, but owner of the local bank and a growing land company. People there are begging us, or anyone who will investigate, to stop him before he kills more innocent people in his quest for money and power.”

“Sounds like ex-Federal Marshal Wade Stoneman has gotten real ambitious since he left our office.”

“Yeah, it does.” Billy tried to blow a smoke ring to equal Longarm's, but he failed. “A man that cunning, deadly, and probably now quite wealthy adds up to being a very formidable enemy.”

Longarm nodded in agreement. “Billy, are you thinking of sending
me
over there?”

“It has crossed my mind a time or two this morning.”

Longarm puffed faster. “I'd just as soon you didn't.”

“Why?”

“It sounds like a no-win situation. Wade Stoneman and I didn't part as friends . . . quite the opposite. Furthermore, he'll immediately recognize me as someone you sent, and there goes any chance I might have to snoop around and try to get some evidence against him. And finally, I really don't want to have to brace the man.”

Billy nodded. “Because he's faster than you?”

“Maybe.”

Billy sighed. “Then forget it, Custis. I'll send someone else.”

“Why send anyone?” Longarm asked. “This isn't a federal case. It's a case for the local sheriff to handle.”

“He died rather suddenly of lead poisoning.”

“No witnesses?” Longarm asked, already knowing the answer.

“None at all.”

Longarm sat in silence and smoked for a few minutes, remembering Wade Stoneman and those two young kids who had foolishly stolen an old saddle to get some food money for themselves and maybe their families. Those boys were resting in a cemetery, and by now their simple wooden grave markers would have rotted and fallen over as casualties of Wyoming's hard wind, rain, and snow. Most likely, no one remembered them or laid flowers on their graves. Nope, they'd died young and poor.

And, gawdammit, entirely unnecessarily.

“I'll go,” Longarm said, making his decision.

“I've decided that you shouldn't.”

“I said I'll go!”

Billy stared at Longarm across from his desk. “You just put your finger on it when you said that Wade Stoneman probably hasn't committed any federal crimes. So you'll have no jurisdiction and no justification for going after the man.”

“I'll think of something,” Longarm replied.

“If what I've learned in this telegram is the truth, you're going to be up against more than you've ever had to handle before.”

“I enjoy real challenges.”

Billy nodded. “When can you leave for Wyoming?”

Thinking of Addie, he said, “I have special plans for tonight. However, I can catch the Union Pacific tomorrow and be in Cheyenne by nightfall. From there, either rent a horse or take a stagecoach. What's the name of the town that Wade Stoneman has in his grip?”

“You've probably never heard of it. I haven't. It's called . . .” Billy glanced down at the telegram. “It's called Buffalo Falls.”

Longarm almost dropped his cigar on the desk. “Buffalo Falls?”

“Yes, have you heard of it?”

Longarm dipped his chin. “As a matter of fact, I just heard of it this morning.”

“Really?”

“Yes,” Longarm replied. “And maybe I even know the name of the man who sent the telegram.”

“It's unsigned. I'm sure that whoever sent this was afraid of being found out and killed by Stoneman.”

“Wouldn't surprise me a bit,” Longarm said, coming out of his chair. “Billy?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you meet me tomorrow at the train station with my traveling money?”

“Yes. I'll have it ready.”

“Don't send me there on the cheap,” Longarm warned. “I'll need the best horse and outfit I can buy in Cheyenne.”

“You'll have it. Just don't let Wade Stoneman make you another notch on the butt of his gun.”

“I'll try not to,” Longarm said, heading out of the office without even a trace of his earlier smile.