Longarm and "Kid" Bodie (9781101622001) (8 page)

Chapter 12

Longarm bought Bodie a well-used but very serviceable .44-40 Colt Single Action revolver and a couple of boxes of shells. Thirty minutes later, as the train whistle was blasting to tell everyone to get back on board, they stood about fifty yards from the tracks and practiced shooting at discarded beer bottles and tin cans.

“Bodie, the thing of it is,” Longarm said, sending a rusty bean can jumping into the air and then drilling it a second time before it hit the ground, “you have to learn to point and fire without putting a lot of thought into the process.”

“What about aiming?”

“You aim a rifle, you sort of learn to point a pistol,” Longarm explained. “At least that's the way I was told to shoot. And you have to remember that most gunfights call for close and fast shooting. You have to be steady and fire accurately, but quick. Try to draw a gun faster than you're capable of doing and you'll either shoot yourself in the foot or miss.”

“Fast, but not too fast.”

“That's right,” Longarm said, holstering his gun and then demonstrating.

“You're
really
fast!”

“There are faster men out there, and I've had the misfortune to face a few.”

“Then how come, if they were faster, you're still alive?”

“Luck and nerves. I've been shot a few times, but if a man can keep his nerves steady, even wounded he can still shoot and kill his enemy. I've never met a man that could fire twice before I could get off my first bullet that kills him.”

“I sure wouldn't like to get shot,” Bodie said, reloading his six-gun.

“Nobody wants to die in a gunfight,” Longarm said. “And if I even sense that someone is going to go for his gun and try to shoot me, I'll draw and shoot first.”

“But what if the fella wasn't really going to go for his gun?”

Longarm shrugged. “To my way of thinking, you have to err on the side that will keep you alive.”

“I'd say that was good advice,” Bodie agreed. “You ever kill a man with a shotgun?”

“Yes.”

“Did you blow his head plumb off?”

“Once I did,” Longarm admitted. “Mostly, you try for the body. If a man gets hit with a shotgun blast, he won't be a danger to anyone ever again.”

“Maybe I should have bought a shotgun instead,” Bodie mused. “There were a couple of nice used ones in that man's shop, and they didn't cost much more than this pistol that I can't shoot straight.”

“You can't walk around town carrying a shotgun,” Longarm said.

“Why not?”

“Because it makes people really nervous.”

“To hell with 'em! I don't care if they get nervous or not.”

“Listen, Bodie, I bought you a holster, and that's where you keep your pistol. And you don't fool with it around strangers, because that makes them very edgy. If you're in a saloon, and you reach for your gun, someone is liable to go for his own weapon and you'll be dead.”

“I could hit
anything
with a shotgun.”

“But you'd have no range, and there are a lot of places that won't allow a man to bring a shotgun inside.”

“Okay,” Bodie said, “then I'll just have to learn to shoot fast and straight with this Colt.”

“That would be my advice.”

Bodie fired at a nearby can three times, hitting it once but missing it twice. “You think there is anything
wrong
with this pistol?” he asked.

“Like what for instance?” Longarm glanced over his shoulder at the train and saw the conductor waving for them to hurry over and get on board. “We're running short of time.”

“Trains start off real slow,” Bodie said, firing his pistol and missing. “Maybe the fella that owned this gun before me sold it to your gunsmith friend because the barrel was bent.”

Longarm almost laughed out loud. “Bodie, there is nothing wrong with that pistol. It's had plenty of use, but it's a fine weapon. You're just a poor shot. It takes a lot of practice and that means buying plenty of ammunition.”

“But I don't have time to practice before we get to Virginia City.”

“No,” Longarm admitted, “you don't. But we bought a couple boxes of shells, and every time our train stops for water and coal, we'll step off and take a few practice rounds. Now, come on and let's get back on board. Where's your wolf dog?”

“Hell if I know. Could I shoot
your
gun?”

“No,” Longarm said. “A man's gun is like a man's woman. You just don't lend it out to anyone.”

Bodie fired once more and this time kicked up enough dirt to move the can. “I'm getting closer,” he said.

The train gave off one last shrill whistle, but Bodie either didn't notice or care as his eyes searched for his dog. “Homer!” he yelled. “Come along, Homer!”

Homer struggled out from behind a broken-down wagon, dragging a female dog as he tried hard to disengage himself.

“Damn!” Bodie cried as the train started to move. “He's swelled up in her and is stuck!”

“We have to leave him and catch that train,” Longarm shouted as it began to roll.

“But I can't leave Homer like that!”

“Dammit, Bodie,” Longarm yelled over his shoulder, “I'm not waiting around while your dog tries to uncouple!”

“He'll be loose of her in just a minute or two.”

“And by then the train will have left us here in Rock Springs!” Longarm shouted, breaking into a run and hauling himself up onto the caboose. “Come on, Bodie!”

The kid ran over to his huge dog and gave him a hard kick up between its legs. Homer howled in pain and broke free, and then the pair was racing after the train. Longarm didn't think they'd make it, but somehow they both jumped up on the caboose and collapsed, gasping for air.

“You're a hell of a fast runner,” Longarm said to the boy. “And that dog of yours . . . well, I just think maybe from now on you'd better lead him on a rope when we stop or he's going to either get left or get shot.”

“Yeah,” Bodie said, finally regaining his breath, “I guess that'd be a good idea. But he sure likes to ride those stray bitches.”

“It's a common failing,” Longarm said, feeling his cheeks warm as the train left Rock Springs farther and farther behind.

Chapter 13

Longarm and Bodie used up all their practice ammunition during the rest of their trip, and when they boarded the train out of Lovelock, Nevada, they settled in for the last leg of their trip with no plans for further practice.

Several hours later, they were rolling into Reno.

“Next stop, Reno!” the conductor called out and he moved from coach to coach. When he came abreast of Longarm and Bodie, he said, “Can't say I'm sorry to say good-bye to that big dog. Are you bringing him back to Cheyenne on this train?”

“Don't know yet,” Bodie answered.

“I'm going to have to have someone really clean and scrub this passenger car because that mongrel shit and pissed in it, and my boss is going to be especially furious that your damned dog completely chewed the arm off that seat.”

“Sorry about that,” Longarm offered. “But we all have to deal with the unexpected. I think you, your boss, and the Union Pacific will survive the trouble and loss.”

“Sure, easy for you to say, Marshal. Still and all, I'd be obliged if you could let me know if the boy and his dog are returning with you, so that I can make sure that I'm on a different run.”

Longarm shook his head. “Conductor, I've got a murder to investigate, and it might involve this boy's mother. So do you really think I'm going to be thinking about your petty inconvenience?”

The conductor paused and then said, “No, and I really hope that the boy's mother is safe.”

“Thanks,” Bodie said as the train rolled to a stop.

“Well, now the work begins,” Longarm said. “Are you sure you want to go up to Virginia City?”

“I sure do.”

“I've got a little matter to take care of before we leave town, but I think I'll have it wrapped up in a day.”

“Does that mean we have to stay here a day?”

“I'm afraid that it does.”

Bodie couldn't hide his disappointment. “Maybe I could get some ammunition tomorrow morning and do some more practicing.”

“That would be a good idea. I'll go with you and then go visit the town sheriff. You and Homer can just take it easy and see the sights tomorrow.”

“I'm getting a lot better with the Colt, aren't I?”

“Of course you are! Bodie, you're already more than a decent shot with that pistol we picked up in Rock Springs.”

“I sure can't shoot anywhere near as good as you.”

“Not yet, you can't. But I think you've gotten to know the gun and feel comfortable handling and firing it. That was our main goal to get done before we hit this town.”

“Maybe I'll have to use it if someone murdered my mother. I'd kill 'em in the blink of an eye, Marshal. I'd do it even if it meant getting hanged.”

“You don't owe your mother your life, kid, and I don't think she'd want you to swing from a noose on her account. Anyway, why don't you leave that kind of business to me,” Longarm cautioned. “I'm a federal marshal, and if I have to kill a man, I've got some legal protections. But if
you
killed someone . . . even if that somebody was responsible for the death of your mother . . . it would go hard, and the best you could hope for would be prison.”

“I killed that man in Denver and they didn't do anything to me.”

“Yes, you did,” Longarm said. “But I was witness to that shooting and a part of it too, so you were in the clear. What we have now is a whole different thing.”

“Murder is murder.”

“That's right, Bodie, and after learning about the tragic death of my friend Gloria, I've been thinking that John Stock wasn't the real target that day we first met on Colfax Avenue.”

Bodie was quiet for a moment before he asked, “Do you think they really wanted to kill
me
?”

“Either that or capture you and make you sign a document saying you have no rights to any property that might have been left by either your mother or her husband.”

Bodie nodded with understanding. “You're expecting someone to try to kill me again, aren't you.”

It wasn't a question.

“I'm afraid that is a real possibility,” Longarm admitted. “And that's why I thought it was so important to buy you a reliable pistol and that you have a little time to practice shooting it.”

“If someone wanted to kill me, they'd have to kill Homer first.”

“Homer wouldn't even know who fired the bullet,” Longarm said, his tone grave. “I'm not saying that your dog isn't going to be helpful if we're attacked. I'm just telling you that neither I nor Homer can stop a well-aimed ambusher's bullet.”

“I understand.”

Longarm pulled out his watch and noted the time. “It's four. We'll get a hotel room, have a nice dinner, and then get a good night's sleep. Tomorrow I'll take care of whatever business I'm supposed to do so that I can be here officially. I'll also get us paid up for a ride to Virginia City the following morning.”

“I could use sleeping in a bed,” Bodie admitted. “I like traveling on a train, but it's hard sleeping in a seat night after night.”

“I know.” Longarm reached for his bag. “When we get off the train, keep your eyes open for trouble.”

Bodie's eyebrows rose in question. “Do you think that someone
knows
we're coming into this town today and might try and kill us?”

“It's entirely possible.”

“But how would they know?”

“Same way I learned about the death of my friend. A telegraph is a whole lot faster than a train.”

“So what do we do when we get off?”

“Just watch everyone on the loading platform. If you see a man watching only us, or reaching into his coat pocket, or maybe coming right at us, then give me a loud warning shout.”

“What if there is
more
than one man?”

Longarm stood up and started down the aisle. “In that case you had better remember how to shoot straight and fast, because that's what I'll be doing.”

“I'll remember,” Bodie promised as he untied Homer and followed Longarm off the car.

Chapter 14

Longarm and Bodie stepped off the train and into the jam of passengers that were disembarking at Reno. They stood and studied everyone in sight, but no one stood out as an obvious and immediate threat. After a few minutes, Longarm started moving. He knew that any ambusher might well be hiding outside the train station, and when they were clear of it, Longarm took a long, careful look around.

“See anyone that looks like trouble?” Bodie asked, shifting his bag and keeping a tight hold on Homer.

“No. Let's head for a hotel I like up near the Truckee River Bridge.”

It wasn't a very long walk, and once again Longarm was struck by how easy Reno was on the eye. Unlike the Nevada rail towns of Elko, Battle Mountain, and Winnemucca, Reno had a look of permanence and beauty. The downtown buildings were mostly constructed of red brick instead of the cheaper and fire-prone rough wooden planks so typical in Western towns. And there were trees and sidewalks, all giving Reno an air of unmistakable permanency. But the very nicest and most picturesque part of the town was the clear, cold, and sparkling Truckee River flowing year-round right through the center of Reno.

“It's almost as handsome as Denver, I'd say,” Bodie offered. “But a lot smaller.”

“It'll grow,” Longarm told the kid. “The Comstock Lode riches have helped Reno to prosper, but the railroad, ranching, and logging all add their share to the prosperity.”

“I wouldn't mind living here. Sure is a lot prettier than Bodie.”

Longarm almost chuckled, because almost anywhere was prettier than the rough, raw Bodie. “Here we are.”

“Nice hotel. Are they going to let Homer in?”

“I hope so. If not, we'll just have to find another hotel, and there are plenty to choose from.”

The hotel desk clerk was a short, heavyset man in his thirties with wire-rimmed spectacles that were perched on a hooked nose. “Well Marshal Long! It's been a while since we had the pleasure of your company.”

“Thanks, Arthur. I need a room and my friend and his dog need a second room of their own. Can you help us?”

Arthur stared at the wolf dog. “I'm afraid that the owners won't allow a dog in our rooms.”

“Well then,” Longarm said, “I guess we'll have to find some place else.”

“I'm very sorry,” Arthur said with regret. “But I have to follow the rules or I'll lose my job.”

“I don't want that to happen. Do you have any suggestions where else we can stay a couple of nights?”

“The Mapes Hotel might take you. They have downstairs rooms with private entrances and little enclosed patios.”

“That would work. Thanks, Arthur.”

The Mapes Hotel was just a block away and right beside the river. Longarm and Bodie had no trouble booking adjoining rooms and the price was reasonable. “We have a fine restaurant that serves breakfast, lunch, and dinner,” the desk clerk informed them.

“We'll keep that in mind,” Longarm promised.

After they'd settled in their rooms, Longarm felt like taking a nap, but it was early in the afternoon, so he freshened up and then told Bodie, “I'm going to pay a visit to the local sheriff's office. I'll be back in an hour or two and we can go get something to eat. You should stay here in your room and keep the door to the hallway as well as the one to the patio locked until I return.”

“What happens when me or Homer needs to take a leak or crap?”

“Well, in that case, sure. But carry your gun and watch out for trouble.”

* * * 

Fifteen minutes later Longarm strode into Sheriff Newt Bolden's office and caught the man snoozing with his feet up on his desk.

“Another rough day maintaining law and order in Reno, huh?” Longarm asked, giving the man a nudge and waking him with a start.

“Why if it isn't Marshal Custis Long! How are you doin'?”

“I'm fine.”

“Like a cup of strong, cold coffee?”

Over the years Newt's cold coffee had almost become a standing joke between them. “How could I resist such an offer?”

“I'll pour us both a cup. I suppose you're here about the murder of United States Marshal Hugh Parker.”

“To tell you the truth, there are so many things going on that my boss, Marshal Vail, didn't even give me the deceased's name.”

“Huh!” Bolden shook his head. “Marshal Parker's gun and money were missing, and when he was found behind a saloon, he was unconscious. We hoped he'd wake up and be able to tell us something, but he passed away early this morning.”

Longarm took a sip of the sheriff's coffee and tried not to grimace. “Good as always, Newt.”

“Yeah, I do like it strong.” Newt plopped down in his chair and threw his boots back up on his desk. “Did you know Federal Officer Hugh Parker?”

“No. We had never met.”

“No, him being from the San Francisco office and you being from Denver, I don't suppose you would have met.”

“What was he like?” Longarm asked.

“Marshal Parker was hard to read. He kept his own counsel and didn't tell me much, but I knew he was investigating that murder up in Virginia City.”

“What murder?”

“The one where a wealthy couple was murdered and burned up in their mansion.”

Longarm almost dropped his cup. “And their names?”

“Chester and Ruby Burlington. I met them a few times when they came down here to shop or just to get away from the Comstock Lode to see a river and trees again. They were as nice a couple as you'd ever meet and it was clear they were very much in love.”

“Did they arrest those responsible?”

“Afraid not.” Newt shook his head. “At first, everyone thought that Mr. and Mrs. Burlington had died accidentally. Chester Burlington always had a lit cigar in his mouth.”

“But their deaths weren't an accident?”

“Their bodies were charred almost beyond recognition, but the mortician found a bullet hole in the back of each of their skulls.”

Longarm leaned forward with intense interest. “In the back, not the side or front?”

“No, in the back of the head. Dead center. Small-caliber bullets but obviously lethal. So it was pretty obvious they'd been murdered, and because their safe door was hanging open it didn't seem a stretch to figure out that they had been forced to open the safe and then were murdered, and their home was burned down around their bodies to hide the cause of their deaths.”

“Yes, whoever killed them probably thought that the bodies would be too charred for anyone to note the bullet holes,” Longarm mused aloud.

“That's the way that I saw it, and so did Marshal Hugh Parker. Of course, I couldn't go up to Virginia City even to see the crime scene because it's out of my jurisdiction.”

“What about the local Virginia City authorities?”

“The only man they had is gone. The Comstock Lode's production has fallen off so much that the town has almost no revenue and is dead broke. They had to lay off their entire city staff and that included the only lawman on their payroll.”

“That usually happens when the gold peters out,” Longarm said. “And when everybody starts closing their business and striking out for the newer mining discoveries.”

“Yeah. There are still about a thousand people living in Virginia City hoping that some new pocket of gold or silver will be found, but most people think that the town is in for a slow death.”

“I'd agree that is likely.”

“Custis, you can buy mines and claims up there for a penny on the dollar now. Houses and businesses are going for next to nothing.”

“Kind of hate to see that,” Longarm said. “In her day, Virginia City was a sight to behold. I've never been in any boomtown where the liquor and the money flowed as fast and free.”

“Oh, it was wild and wicked, all right,” Newt agreed with a smile. “The life expectancy of a sheriff up there was about a month.”

“So tell me what United States Marshal Hugh Parker found out while investigating the Burlington murder and arson?”

“He was on to something, but he never quite got around telling me exactly what it was.”

“You mean,” Longarm asked, “that he thought he knew who might have murdered and then burned that couple to death?”

“I think he had his suspicions and was trying to round up some solid evidence.”

“Well he must have told you
something
.”

“Custis, Hugh Parker was real closemouthed. He would have told me when he thought the time was right, but someone got to him before that time.”

“Tell me everything you known about Hugh Parker and how he died.”

“Not much to tell. Marshal Parker was in his thirties, a good-lookin' fella who had an eye for women and a thirst for drink. When he was staying here in Reno, he was seeing a young woman named Katie Lund.”

“Is she a prostitute?”

“No. She does bookwork for a lawyer here in Reno named Jake Kelsey. I met Katie a few times and liked her, but I sure never liked her lawyer boss.”

“Why didn't you like Jake Kelsey?”

“Because,” Newt said, “he's as crooked as a sidewinder and as cunning as a coyote.”

“What else can you tell me about Marshal Hugh Parker?”

“Not much. He was sent off by the feds from San Francisco, and he wasn't here but two weeks. He didn't like staying up in Virginia City, and I had the feeling that he felt . . . well, threatened up there on the Comstock Lode.”

“Threatened by whom?” Longarm asked.

“I'm not sure. But when the news got out that Mr. and Mrs. Chester Burlington had been shot in the back of their heads, everything changed, and you could just feel the anger and tension in Marshal Hugh Parker. He'd come over from San Francisco thinking he was looking at an accident and maybe a robbery and then suddenly he was investigating a cold-blooded murder.”

“Did he have any leads as to who might have done it?”

“Like I said, Marshal Parker was pretty closemouthed, and he played his hand close to the vest. I knew that he'd eventually tell me what he knew and not a minute earlier, so I didn't press him. After all, the murder up there wasn't in my jurisdiction.”

“Yeah, you said that.”

“Well,” Sheriff Bolden said a little defensively, “that's the truth of it.”

“I know.” Longarm forced himself to take a sip of a coffee so strong it would have corroded a horseshoe. “But maybe he told his gal, Katie Lund, a few things I ought to know. Even a good lawman will say things in bed with a woman that he wouldn't tell anyone else.”

“Is that a fact?” Newt asked.

“You know that it is,” Longarm said, seeing a smile tugging at the corners of the man's mouth. “So I think I'd better go and have a talk with Katie Lund. Where is her attorney's office?”

“Just up the street a block. You can't miss it. Big red-brick two-story building with a white wooden balcony off the second floor overlooking Virginia Street. Attorney Kelsey likes to sit up over the sidewalk and wave at people he thinks might have money enough to pay him to solve their legal problems.”

“He sounds like a real hustler to me,” Longarm said.

“Oh, he is.” The sheriff glanced over at an old grandfather clock. “If you want some advice, I'd tell you to wait about an hour, till Attorney Kelsey heads out his door, and then go up and talk to Miss Lund.”

“And why would I have to wait?”

“Just a suggestion,” Newt Bolden said, raising his hands palms up. “No use in causing a stir when it can be helped.”

“I'll take your suggestion,” Longarm said, sensing that the man was just giving him a friendly warning not to get involved with the attorney.

“We can sit here and chew the fat for an hour,” Newt suggested. “You can tell me about all the dangerous and deadly criminals you've shot since last we got together, but I'd rather hear about all the women you've screwed.”

“You're a dirty and lecherous old fart,” Longarm said with a laugh.

“You pegged me just right. You about ready for another cup of coffee?”

“Nope.”

“Better drink 'er down before she's gone.”

“I'll take my chances, Newt.”

“Suit yourself,” Reno's congenial town sheriff said, as he got up to pour himself another cold cup.