Longarm 242: Red-light (16 page)

But Longarm was impatient and more than ready to nab Mallory in the act of holding up the stagecoach. Any extra delay was going to eat at him.

Nola knew how he felt, and so she was grateful when she looked up from her place at the end of the bar on Tuesday evening and saw Mallory sauntering into the saloon, trailed by several of his men.

They headed for the bar, and immediately the drinkers there moved aside nervously to make room for the outlaws. Mallory tossed a double eagle onto the hardwood and said loudly to the bartender, “Give my boys whatever they want, barkeep.” Then he looked at Nola and grinned. He strolled along the bar to join her.

“Hello, Ben,” she greeted him with a smile. “It's good to see you again.”

His dark eyes played over her body, lingering on the valley between her breasts, visible in the low-cut gown she wore. “You're lookin' mighty nice, Nola,” he said. “Feelin' friendly tonight, are you?”

She leaned against him and toyed with his cowhide vest with one hand. “Of course,” she murmured, her voice almost a purr. “You always make me feel friendly, Ben.”

“Well, I'd say you've learned your lesson right well, then.” He sounded smugly satisfied with himself. “I'll be takin' you upstairs in a little bit.”

“Whatever you say, Ben,” she told him, still smiling, still keeping a tight rein on the way she really felt.

“Lemme get a drink or two first.” Mallory signaled curtly to the bartender.

“Bring the bottle,” Nola said to the man. To Mallory, she added, “Let's go over to a table. I've got something to tell you.”

He arched his bushy eyebrows curiously but reached out to snag the bottle and the glasses the bartender brought. When he and Nola were seated at a table in the rear corner of the saloon, he asked, “Now, what's all this about?”

Nola didn't answer until she had poured the drinks for them. She sipped hers, then said, “I know about you, Ben.”

Instantly, suspicion flickered in his eyes. “What do you know?” he demanded.

“That you're a smart man.”

That mollified Mallory slightly. “Damn right I am,” he said.

“Smart enough to appreciate a smart woman.”

Mallory shrugged, waited for her to go on.

“I heard something earlier today I think you might be interested in,” continued Nola. “You know how men like to talk when they come into a saloon. Well, Charlie Dodson was in here, and he said the Calamity is about to ship some silver out on tomorrow's coach. Several weeks' worth, in fact.”

The Calamity Mine was the biggest of the silver mines in the area surrounding Galena City, and Charlie Dodson was the superintendent. Mallory leaned forward eagerly as he heard what Nola said.

“You sure about that?” he asked.

Nola nodded. “I'm certain. He was telling Mr. Dupree about it.”

Mallory tossed down his drink, then leaned back in his chair and rubbed his angular jaw as he frowned in thought. After a moment, he said, “Why are you tellin' me about this?”

It was Nola's turn to shrug. “I just thought you might like to know, that's all.”

Slowly, a grin spread across Mallory's face. “You know, I reckon you are a pretty smart woman, just like you said, Nola. Maybe I should have started listenin' to you before now. Here in this saloon, you hear all the good gossip in town, don't you?”

“It's hard for anything to happen around here that I don't know about ahead of time,” she said meaningfully.

Mallory gave an abrupt nod. “Much obliged for the information.” He poured himself another drink, tossed it down. Then he scraped his chair back and stood up.

“We're going upstairs now?” asked Nola.

Mallory shook his head. “Not tonight. I got to talk to the rest of the boys and do some thinkin'. Sorry, Nola.”

She made a little pout of disappointment. Sarah Bernhardt and Lillie Langtry didn't have anything on her when it came to acting, she thought. “I suppose I'll get over it,” she said with a sigh.

Mallory grinned and leaned over to chuck her under the chin. “Don't you worry, I'll be comin' to see you again,” he promised. “Hell, if everything works out, I might even bring you a present next time.”

“I'd like that, Ben.” But the best present of all would be seeing him either behind bars or kicking out his life at the end of a hangrope.

Mallory went back to the bar and talked in low, urgent tones to his men for a few minutes. Then all of them left, going out into the cold night and slamming the door after them, and a sigh of relief seemed to go through the whole saloon.

Nola headed upstairs.

 

Longarm was waiting in Nola's room along with Claude Jessup, J. Emerson Dupree, and a thick-bodied man with graying, sandy hair who had been introduced to him by Jessup as Charlie Dodson, the superintendent of the Calamity Mine. Dupree had been shocked to see that Longarm was still alive when Jessup brought him and Dodson to the Silver Slipper, but his newspaperman's instincts were whetted by the news that Longarm was really a U.S. marshal. The four men were sitting around and talking in quiet tones when the door opened and Nola stepped in. She shut the door behind her and smiled at the men who watched her expectantly.

“He took the bait,” she said. “Swallowed it hook, line, and sinker.”

The cot in the back room of the stagecoach station wasn't nearly as comfortable as Nola's bed, but Longarm made do. He was too excited to sleep much, anyway. His head was full of the plan that he hoped would finally rope in Ben Mallory.

Longarm didn't particularly like bringing so many people in on it, but there was no way to set things up properly otherwise. Dupree and Dodson had had a long conversation at the bar downstairs, so that if Mallory asked anyone, the honest answer would be that the newspaperman and the mine superintendent had indeed been talking earlier in the evening. That lent credence to the story Nola had told Mallory.

Then, after Mallory had taken the bait just as Longarm hoped he would, Longarm had waited until well after midnight to leave the saloon and walk quickly through the back alleys of Galena City with Jessup. Dupree and Dodson had already gone back to the
Bugle
and the Calamity, respectively, just as they would have normally.

The waiting came next, and that was always the hardest part for Longarm. He went over and over the plan in his mind, looking for weak spots. He didn't see any. Surprise was the main thing on his side. He intended to put it to good use.

Longarm finally slept some, but he was awake early the next morning. His breath fogged in the air as he moved around. It was cold in the station, since he'd had to let the fire in the stove go out. Jessup lived in a small cabin not far away, so the station itself was supposed to be empty at night. Longarm had maintained that illusion, but in the process he had gotten thoroughly chilled. He was mighty glad when Jessup arrived for the day carrying a small package. The stationmaster started a fire in the stove and put a pot of coffee on to brew. Longarm stayed in the back room most of the time, just in case anyone came into the station before the stage arrived.

It appeared that no one was leaving Galena City today, though, since nobody showed up to buy a ticket and wait for the stage. The only visitor was Charlie Dodson, who pulled up behind the building in a wagon about mid-morning. Jessup went out to meet him, and a few minutes later the two men came back inside. Each of them was carrying a canvas bag that looked heavy.

Dodson nodded a greeting to Longarm, then pointed at the bags and said with a grin, “Rocks. That's all.”

“That'll do,” said Longarm. “If Mallory has a man keeping an eye on the station this morning, it'll look like the two of you just carried in a shipment of ingots.”

“We'll split ‘em up in the mailbags, just like you planned,” said Jessup. “That way the bags'll look heavy enough when we load 'em on the stage.”

“Looks to me like you've got everything figured out, Marshal,” commented Dodson. “The only thing I don't understand is how you intend to get the drop on Mallory and his whole gang. They'll have you outgunned.”

Longarm picked up the package Jessup had brought into the station earlier. “That's where this comes in. It's dynamite.”

“I got it at the hardware store,” said Jessup. “Told the clerk I needed to blow up a stump out back.” He shrugged. “If there's any left over when the marshal gets back, I might just use it for that.”

“Mallory won't expect to have a few sticks of this hellish stuff flung into the middle of his bunch from the coach,” Longarm said as he hefted the package of dynamite. “That ought to put some of the gang down and shake up the rest so that I can make them drop their guns. That's what I'm counting on, anyway.”

“Dynamite's not too careful what it blows up,” Dodson pointed out. “Could be you'll get Mallory himself.”

Longarm shrugged. “If that's the way it works out, then so be it. I'd rather see him stand trial and hang, but the main thing is to put a stop to these robberies.”

“Amen to that,” Dodson said fervently. “Well, it seems like you've got everything under control.” He shook hands with Longarm. “Good luck, Marshal.”

“Likely I'll need it,” said Longarm dryly.

He just didn't know how much.

 

The time remaining until the stagecoach arrived dragged by. Jessup prepared the mailbags, taking the rocks from the bags Dodson had brought and loading them into the large canvas pouches marked U.S. Mail. Longarm drank coffee and gnawed on one of the biscuits Jessup had brought from home. The wound in his side ached, but only a little. The bandages had been changed the night before by Rafaela, before Longarm had left the Silver Slipper, and the brunette had pronounced her approval of the healing process. The bullet holes hurt less now and itched more, and Longarm knew that was a good sign.

There was a banjo clock on the wall of the station's front room, much like the one in Billy Vail's office back in Denver. Longarm wondered if Vail had gotten the letter he'd sent in care of Henry. He lounged in the doorway between the rooms and looked at the clock, willing the hands to move faster. They were almost straight up at noon when Jessup glanced through the window at the street and said, “Uh-oh, what's all this?”

Longarm almost stepped to his side, then hung back, not wanting anyone to see him peering out the window and possibly recognize him. “What is it?” he asked tensely.

Jessup turned to look at him, a worried look on his face. “Miss Nola's coming along the boardwalk, and she's got some of her girls with her. They look like they're headed here, and they're dressed for traveling.”

“Damn it!” Longarm pulled his hat down so that it would conceal most of his face and stepped to the window to chance a quick look. Jessup was right: Nola was on her way, flanked by Angie, Rafaela, and Mickey. All four of the women were wearing traveling outfits and had hats pinned to their upswept hair. They were carrying carpetbags, too. Longarm muttered, “What the hell do they think they're doing?”

A moment later the door of the station opened, and Nola swept in imperiously, followed by the other three young women. Longarm stayed where he was; there was no point in hiding from them, since they all knew he was still alive anyway.

“Good morning, Claude,” Nola said with a smile. “The Wednesday stage ought to be here any minute, shouldn't it?”

Jessup glanced at Longarm and swallowed nervously when he saw the big lawman's grim expression. But there was nothing he could do except nod in response to Nola's question and say, “Yes, ma'am, that's right. Any minute now.”

“What do you think you're doing, Nola?” Longarm asked tautly.

She turned a level gaze on him, and he could read nothing there but determination. “Why, we're going to Virginia City,” she said. “We make the trip occasionally to do some shopping, don't we, Claude?”

Jessup swallowed again, obviously aware that he was caught between a rock and a hard place. “It's true, Marshal,” he said. “The ladies go to Virginia City about once a month, and it's been a while since they were there.”

“So no one will think there's anything unusual about us getting on that stage,” said Nola.

Longarm took a deep breath and tried to rein in his anger. “You can't go,” he said flatly. “You know that.”

“I know nothing of the sort,” Nola shot back at him. “When Mallory and his men stop the stage, you're liable to need help, Custis.”

Longarm glanced at Angie, Rafaela, and Mickey, unsure of how much Nola had told them about the plan—and about him.

Nola must have understood what the look meant, because she said, “They know all about it, and all about you, too, Custis.”

“Yeah,” put in Angie with a grin. “I've heard of you, Marshal. You're the one they call Longarm.” She gave a bawdy laugh. “And I reckon I know one reason why they call you that, too.”

Longarm bit back an annoyed curse. He didn't have time for this. He glanced at the banjo clock, saw that the hands were now straight up. The stage would soon be here ...

Jessup glanced through the window and said, “Here it comes.”

“Four tickets to Virginia City, Claude,” Nola said briskly. “Round trip.”

Jessup glanced at Longarm and said, “What do I do, Marshal?”

Longarm hesitated a moment, then growled, “Sell 'em the damn tickets.” He added to Nola and the other women, “Keep your heads down when the shooting starts, all of you. I won't have time to be worrying about you.”