Longarm and the Train Robbers (11 page)

Longarm's pulse
quickened.  These three words would not constitute evidence in a
court of law, but they told Longarm that, without a shadow of
doubt, Blake Huntington was a member of the train-robbing gang. 
That meant that Huntington was the only real link that Longarm
now had with the gang, and that the man would have to be shadowed
until more was revealed.

Longarm tore the
page out, neatly folded it, and then stuffed it into his pocket. 
Satisfied that his inspection was complete, Longarm started for
the door.  Just as his hand clamped onto the knob, he heard the
metallic click of a key being inserted in the outside
lock.

Longarm whirled
and sprang for the window.  He tried to open it, but the thing
was frozen shut.  And even if it had been wide open it would have
been a long, long drop to the alley below.  He twisted to see the
door handle turning, and heard Milly's forced
laughter.

Longarm dove for
the carpet.  He rolled over onto his back, and barely managed to
squeeze under the bed just as the door opened.

"Well, now!" the
man said in his slightly British accent.  "I can see that the
hotel needs to get someone up here to do some housekeeping, don't
they!"

"I'll say," Milly
replied.

There was a moment
of silence, and then the bedsprings groaned and sagged to rest
against Longarm's chest.  He heard the sound of kissing, and then
felt the bedsprings moving as the couple began to roll around. 
Then heavy breathin , and then clothes hitting the
floor.

Longarm ground his
teeth and cursed himself for not leaving earlier.  The last thing
he wanted was to be under the bed while this pair
coupled.

The bedsprings
began to squeak and Longarm could hear Milly start to moan, and
he knew from the sound of it that she was faking.

"Oh, baby," the
Englishman panted.  "What you got is what I want.  Roll
over."

"No," Milly said
quite firmly.

"Aw, come on,
beauty!  You'll like it!"

"No, I won't!  It
hurts that way!"

Blake's voice
hardened.  "Just do it!!"

"No!  Blake, stop
it!"

Longarm heard fear
in Milly's voice.  She began to plead and then struggle with the
man.  The springs pressed down on Longarm as the pair fought, and
when Longarm heard the sharp sound of flesh being struck by
flesh, he knew that he could not remain a bystander any
longer.

"Please!" Milly
cried.  "Please stop!"

"You
bitch!"

Longarm tore a
gash across his chest as he struggled out from under the bed. 
Blake Huntington was on top of Milly and she was bleeding from
the mouth.  Longarm jumped up, grabbed the naked man, and hurled
him across the room to bounce against the far wall.

Blake Huntington
was all man and all mad.  Cursing and spitting, he charged
Longarm with murder in his eyes.  He drove a knee at Longarm's
groin that was deflected.  But before Longarm could smash
Huntington, the man gouged his eye and tried to tear it out of
its socket with his thumb.

Longarm struck out
powerfully.  His knuckles hit bare flesh.  Huntington grunted in
pain.  He backed up, snatched a heavy water pitcher from the
dresser, and charged Longarm with every intention of smashing his
brains out. Longarm could have drawn his gun and shot the man,
but he needed him alive. So he dove for Huntington's ankles.  The
Englishman's momentum carried him over Longarm and into the
window.

The glass
shattered and Huntington's scream was hideous, but it ended
abruptly when he struck the alley below.  Longarm jumped up and
ran to the window.  Blake Huntington was sprawled on his back,
covered with glass and blood.  His neck was twisted at a very
unnatural angle and he was staring up at Longarm while his naked
body twitched.

"Honey!" Milly
cried.  "He hurt me bad!"

Longarm was also
in great pain.  The vision in his left eye was blurry. He grabbed
Milly's clothes and then pulled her to her feet.  Wrapping a
blanket around her, Longarm hissed, "Let's get to my
room!"

Milly was sobbing,
but she understood the sense of urgency.  She snatched up an
errant shoe and hurried after Longarm toward the door.

"It's too late,"
he said.  The hallway was filled with people who had heard the
screaming and yelling.

Longarm took a
deep breath.  He produced his badge and said in his most
officious voice, "Everyone go back to your rooms!  I'm United
States Deputy Marshal Custis Long and everything is under
control!"

He managed to
reach his door and get it unlocked.  "Get inside and get cleaned
up," he told Milly.  "I'll be along soon."

"But-"

"Just do
it!"

He pushed Milly
into his room, then slammed the door shut and used his key to
lock it.  Glaring at the other guests, Longarm repeated, "It's
all under control!  Now for the last time, get back into your
rooms!"

Only one man stood
firmly, Clarence Huntington, who had rushed up the stairs. 
"Where is Blake?"

Before Longarm
could stop the man, Huntington barged into Blake's room. His eyes
took in the scene, and came to rest on the shattered and
bloodstained window.

"No," he
whispered.

Longarm jumped
into the room behind the man.  "I'm a United States deputy
marshal and your nephew was beating a woman to death.  I tried to
stop him and when he attacked, he accidentally tumbled through
the window."

Clarence pivoted,
and Longarm saw the old man dig into his coat pocket for what was
almost sure to be a derringer.  Longarm jumped forward.  As the
derringer came up, Longarm's fist exploded against Clarence's
jaw.  The old man's eyes crossed and he staggered.  He was tough
and he was game.  Longarm had to hit him twice more: first a
brutal uppercut to his protruding belly that lifted Clarence to
his toes and turned his face fish-underbelly white, then a left
hook that knocked Clarence halfway across the room before he
struck the wall and collapsed in a semiconscious heap.

Longarm pressed
the flat of his palm against his throbbing eye and walked heavily
over to Clarence.  "You're under arrest," he said to the old man.
"For trying to shoot me and maybe for having something to do with
the destruction of railroad property and the murder of innocent
passengers."

Clarence
Huntington roused himself to mutter something that was not
complimentary.  Longarm turned to the door.  "Someone get me a
pitcher of water!"

A moment later,
Longarm had water.  He poured some into his hand and splashed it
into his injured eye.  It felt soothing and when he squinted, he
could see much better again.  Longarm used the remainder of the
water to pour over Clarence.  The old man sputtered and
spit.

"Come on," Longarm
said, hauling Clarence to his feet.  "You're going to
jail."

Clarence stared at
Longarm, and when he spoke, his voice was choked with hatred.  "I
swear that I'll see you in your grave, Deputy!"

"I doubt that,"
Longarm said.  "I doubt that very much."

Clarence, in a fit
of renewed vigor, kicked Longarm in the shin, and tried to break
free until the lawman drew his Colt.  "Keep it up," he said, "and
I'll put a bullet in your knee so you can't possibly try and
escape."

Clarence started
to curse, but when he looked into Longarm's bloodshot eyes, the
old Englishman had an abrupt change of heart.

"You'll pay," he
said with venom.  "You'll pay for everything!"

There was a big
crowd in the hallway, and it wasn't easy for Longarm to get
Clarence Huntington downstairs, through the lobby, and up the
street to the sheriff's office.

"Lock him up,
Sheriff!" Longarm ordered, shoving Huntington across the room
toward the jail's only cell.

"Mr.
Huntington!"

"That's
right."

Ike Cotton didn't
like this at all.  "Mr. Huntington is no criminal!"

"That remains to
be seen," Longarm said.  "Lock him up on the charge of attempted
murder and conspiracy to commit the federal act of railroad
destruction."

"You
mean-"

"Yes," Longarm
said, "I mean I think he is part of the gang that derailed the
Union Pacific at Laramie Summit."

The sheriff stared
at Clarence Huntington and shook his head.  "Sir, I want you to
know that I don't believe any of those charges.  Will you
remember that?"

Huntington just
stared at him, then turned his hateful gaze back to Longarm. 
"You murdered my young nephew.  I'm not going to stop until you
are broken, Deputy.  Broken and imprisoned with the kind of men
that you have put behind bars.  I'll bet that they will know how
to punish you far worse than any death by hanging!"

Longarm felt a
shiver of apprehension run down his spine, but it never showed. 
"We'll see," he said.  "We'll just see what happens after I
search your room."

"You have no
right!"

"I have every
right," Longarm said.

"I want an
attorney!" Huntington screamed.  "Sheriff, I demand the best
attorney in this town."

"Yes, sir, Mr.
Huntington.  That'd be Stephen Miller.  I'll get him first thing
tomorrow."

"Now!"

Sheriff Cotton
threw a confused and frightened look at Longarm, and before he
could be stopped, the sheriff was bolting out the door and
running up the street.

Longarm locked the
wealthy man up himself.  "I don't know what kind of power you
think you have in Laramie, but justice will be
served."

"We'll see who
wins and who loses," Clarence vowed.  "And before my lawyers are
through with you, Deputy Long, you'll rue the day that you ever
came to Laramie."

"That's big talk. 
I have evidence that links your nephew to the train
derailment."

"What
evidence?"

"You'll see when
you go to trial," Longarm said.  Then he left the sheriff's
office and headed back to see if Milly was on the
mend.

CHAPTER
9

Longarm paced back
and forth in his room while the doctor examined Milly and a crowd
gathered in the street below.  It was plain that some of the
people were very upset about Longarm being responsible for the
deaths of two men in less than an hour, but they were completely
ignorant of the facts, so Longarm paid them no mind.

"Well, Doctor?" he
asked when the man finally stepped back and appeared to have
finished his examination.  "Is the prettiest girl in Laramie
going to survive?"

"Of course she
will," Dr. Wilson said.  "Not only survive, but still be
pretty."

Longarm's sigh was
audible and Milly tried to smile, but winced because her lips
were broken.  She looked bad now, but Longarm was sure that, in a
few weeks, her lips would heal and her facial bruises would
disappear.

"Milly," the
doctor said, closing his bag, "you're a very lucky
woman."

"I don't feel
lucky."

"You should."  Dr.
Wilson was a thin, graying man with penetrating blue eyes and a
warm smile.  "Any one of the blows that you took could have
shattered those beautiful cheekbones.  I would also have expected
a concussion, but even that didn't happen.  All you need is a few
weeks of rest and recuperation."

"Custis almost got
his eye gouged out," Milly said quietly.  "I think you'd do
better to attend to him."

"He's already
looked at my eye," Longarm said.  "Just some tiny broken blood
vessels.  No problem."

The doctor patted
Milly on the arm.  "I don't know how a man who appeared to be a
gentleman like Blake Huntington could use his fists with such
savage intent.  You're a very fortunate woman."

"I was fortunate
that Custis was hiding under the bed and able to save my lovely
ass."

The doctor
chuckled.  "Either way, what you need to do now is get plenty of
rest."

"Dr. Wilson,"
Longarm said, "I understand that Sheriff Ike Cotton has some
important questions about the death of Blake
Huntington."

"What sort of
questions?"

"Beats me.  My
guess is that Cotton is up for reelection pretty soon and he
might be looking to impress folks."

"Impossible," the
doctor said with derision.  "But as for the victims, there is no
question abOut the cause of death.  I examined the bodies of both
the man you shot at the livery and Blake Huntington.  The
shooting victim died of multiple gunshot wounds."

"I'm not concerned
about him.  There was a witness.  It's Blake Huntington's death
that mostly seems to be stirring up a hornet's nest."

"It shouldn't, and
I'll tell the people outside when I leave.  If they could see
Milly's face, they'd agree that Huntington got exactly what he
deserved."

"His Uncle
Clarence is determined to nail my hide to the wall over his
nephew's death."