He was studying the revolver in Shaw’s hand. It wasn’t one of his. It had ivory grips. He’d never cared for a gun with white on it. Unhandy in the dark. It might not give you away, but why take the chance.
That meant that, maybe, Shaw hadn’t found his gun under the saddle.
Shaw said, “I’m going to let you take my place on the front porch. Unfortunately, I done took my blankets up so you’ll be sitting in the dust.”
Now he could see that Shaw had the set of manacles in his left hand.
They’d been dangling down by his leg, out of sight. He could see that both jaws were open. He didn’t know how, but Shaw had somehow managed to open the cuffs. Maybe Longarm had been careless in checking and Shaw hadn’t really closed the cuffs around his wrists. But no, if he’d simply left them too loose so he could slip his hands out, then the jaws wouldn’t be open. No, they had been unlocked. But how or by who, Longarm couldn’t understand.
“You mind if I put my boots on?”
Shaw laughed. “I reckon we’ll hold up on the boots for a bit. You seem to know a good deal about boots and pistols. I wouldn’t be surprised if you had one in your boot. I’ll check them when I get you settled down and pitch them to you if they are all right. Move on out there now. It’ll be cold at first, but dawn ain’t far off. I got to get moving. So I would appreciate it if you would move along pretty fast. I seen you eyeing that coffee and I’ll fetch you some. Yeah, I’ve had time to make coffee and build a fire. Like I say, Longarm, I’m surprised you’re alive the way you sleep.” Longarm said grimly, “Me too.”
He walked carefully out into the cold dark and stopped at the eastern porch post. A rectangle of light was cast out the front door onto the dirt of the porch floor. The right-hand corner of it illuminated the post. Longarm stopped and looked back at Shaw. “What next?”
“Either sit down or get down on yore knees. You are gonna cuff yourself to that post. You ought to be familiar with how that works.”
Longarm sat down. He could feel the short hairs at the back of his neck bristling. Shaw was a killer, a man who would put a bullet in your brain on a whim. If Longarm was going to get shot, he’d rather not have it from the back with his hands manacled. He looked around at the outlaw. “Jack,” he said, “if you’re a mind to shoot me, I’d druther take it in the chest standing up.”
Shaw laughed. “Hell, don’t tell me the great Longarm is afraid. I thought you was supposed to be copper-plated and bullet-proof. Hell! You mean you put your boots on just like the rest of us?”
He gave Jack Shaw a level, hard look. “I can’t stop you from shooting me, Jack, but I don’t need your mouth all over it.”
Shaw gave a bark of laughter. “Hell, Longarm, I ain’t gonna kill you. You might die here, but I ain’t gonna put a bullet in you. You played square with me, and I ain’t gonna put a hole in you for your troubles. You would have been within yore rights back yonder yesterday in sayin’ it was no deal when I couldn’t produce the money. But you didn’t. You kept your end up. I have friendly feelings for you, Custis, believe it or not. That is mighty unusual for me. I hope you don’t come to no harm. Now here. Catch this.”
Longarm caught the manacles by the chain as they flew toward him. He was sitting with his legs under him facing the post. He put one of the open jaws over his right wrist and closed it, hearing the ratcheting sound as it closed up. It was still loose on his wrist.
Shaw said, grinning, “I want to hear them clicks, Custis. You know how to do that thing. I want to see you shove that ratchet home. I believe that cuff on your right wrist needs about one more click. She looks a mite loose. Might chafe you and we can’t have that.”
Longarm took his left hand and squeezed the cuff until the ratchet was pushed into the lock one more notch. The click was audible.
“Now yore left hand,” Shaw said. “Get a move on, Longarm.”
With his right hand he encircled his left wrist with the opened cuff, and then closed it down until he could feel it all the way around on his wrist. He said, “That satisfy you?”
“Yeah,” Shaw said. He shoved his revolver home into its holster. For the first time Longarm noticed that Shaw had his gunbelt on. He’d never seen the man wearing it because Longarm had had him drop it before he was allowed to come out of the cabin when he surrendered.
Shaw was also wearing his leather coat. The outlaw said, “Custis, I’ll bring you some coffee and a bottle of whiskey, but I got to know where your revolver and your rifle are. I ain’t going to shoot you, but I ain’t going to leave it so you’ll shoot me either. I’ve got the rest of the guns and gear nearly packed up. I don’t want to have to search the cabin, Custis, so don’t make nothing out of this.”
Longarm spat. His mouth was dry from breathing the high plains air all night. He said, “My revolver is in my saddlebag, the one facing the head of my bed. My rifle is under my blankets up close to the wall. And I’d appreciate some water if you can manage it.”
Shaw said, “This ought to not take long. When I’m done I’ll have a cup of coffee with you and then I’ll be on the trail.”
He was back quickly with one of the water bags. It had better than a gallon of water in it, and it was awkward for Longarm to get the top up to his mouth. Shaw reached out a hand and helped him.
“You got it?”
“Yeah,” Longarm said. “I can manage it.”
“I got to get ready.”
Shaw disappeared back into the cabin while Longarm drank. When he was finished, he lowered the bag carefully and screwed the cap back onto the bag. The cap was attached to the bag by a little chain so it wouldn’t get lost. He glanced toward the doorway, listening to Shaw rustling around. Half bemused, he wondered if Shaw knew Longarm had two revolvers and that one was hidden under his saddle and the other, the one with the nine-inch barrel, was in his saddlebag. It really wasn’t anything to speculate about, not so long as he was chained to the post. He wondered if Shaw was going to tell him how he’d gotten out of the manacles. Longarm felt that he would. He knew that Shaw considered himself just a touch smarter than everyone else, and he didn’t think the man could pass up a chance to gloat. Whatever he had done had been slick because Longarm couldn’t think of a single way out of the manacles. Shaw didn’t have hands as big as his, but he still didn’t slip them out. Longarm tried pushing up against the ratchet with his thumbs, but he might as well have been trying to move a mountain with a mule. The manacles were solid.
Shaw came back out. He was carrying a cup of steaming coffee in either hand and had a bottle of whiskey under his arm. He set one tin cup on the ground where Longarm could reach it and stood the bottle of whiskey next to it.
“There,” he said, “that ought to be some comfort.”
“Thanks,” Longarm said. He unplugged the bottle of whiskey and poured a little in his cup. He didn’t want too much. As Shaw had said, having a whisky head under a hot sun was not very pleasant. Longarm lifted his cup and took a sip. “Aaaah,” he said, “ain’t nothing like a cup of coffee when you have just lost your prisoner and are sitting in his handcuffs.”
Shaw laughed. He had gone and fetched the chair that had been lying on its side and brought it back and set it a few feet from Longarm. He said, “Yeah, Custis, you may wish I’d of shot you. This ain’t gonna look too good back at marshal headquarters, wherever that might be. Denver, ain’t it?”
Longarm nodded. “I guess you are going to make me ask you and then you might not answer, but I’d give a pretty penny to know how you got out of these cuffs.”
Shaw smiled, enjoyment dancing in his eyes. He said, “I reckon you would, Custis. But would you tell if you was me? Ain’t that what you’re always askin’ me?”