“So it wasn’t just the thought of the Rangers made you decide to surrender.”
Shaw nodded. “Not altogether. I never figured to see the inside of prison if that is what you are asking. But now let me ask you something.”
“What?”
Shaw hesitated for a moment. By the light of the fire still coming through the door Longarm could see something in Shaw’s face he couldn’t identify. It looked a little like uncertainty, and a little like fear.
But Shaw didn’t have any reason to feel either of those. Finally Shaw said, “You talked about men you’d brought to bay running at your gun. Are you talking about men that knew you?”
“What do you mean, knew me?”
“Aw, hell, Custis, you know damn good and well what I mean. Did they know it was you, the famous damn Longarm? The dead shot? Quit acting modest. Did they charge at you with any hope of overcoming you or getting past you?
In other words, did they know it was a sure thing they was going to get killed?”
“You mean, was they executing themselves after passing judgment? Yeah. I’d have to say they knew what was going to happen. As to that famous stuff and the dead shot, I don’t know. They didn’t stop to give me their opinions on the matter. What the hell are you so interested for? Ain’t got a damn thing to do with you. Last time you felt guilty was when you had to pay a whore full price.” Longarm suddenly shivered.
“What’s the matter with you? You feel somebody walk over your grave?”
“Hell, Jack, it’s cold. Or ain’t you noticed?”
“You want me to get your jacket?” Longarm said quickly, “No!” Then, realizing that Shaw might have read something into his quick refusal, he said, “Can’t get the damn jacket on without taking off the cuffs, and then I’d be stuck in it when the sun commences to blaze. You might hang one of my blankets over my shoulders. I’d be obliged for that.”
He turned his head and watched Shaw go into the cabin. He didn’t want Shaw going anywhere near the jacket with the key in the pocket. It was the wrong key, but it was the only key he had. And besides, may be Shaw was right. Maybe one key fit more than one set of manacles.
Shaw came back and threw the blanket over Longarm’s shoulders. He said, “Well, ol’ partner, I reckon this is where we fork trails. It is getting on for dawn and I better get to moving.”
Longarm said, “I can’t believe you are heading back in the direction of them Rangers.”
“Believe it. Believe it about sixty thousand dollars worth.”
“I think you lied to me, Jack. I think that money was there at the cabin all the time. Though I’m damned if I know where unless you buried it, but I didn’t see no shovel.”
Shaw said, “Look at it this way, Custis. All in all, what the hell difference does it make to you?”
Longarm shrugged. “None, I reckon. Except I always had a natural curiosity.”
“It didn’t kill you this time. But I’d try and keep it in check was I you.” Shaw came over and dropped two cigars and a half-dozen matches. He said, “I wish you good luck, Custis. I’m leaving two horses in the corral. I’m even leaving your saddle and gear. They’d just slow me up.” Longarm said, “You know, Jack, if somebody don’t come along I ain’t going to last long like this. Two, maybe three or four days.”
Shaw nodded. “I know it. Tell you what. When I get where I’m going I’ll wire the nearest sheriff where you are. Maybe they’ll get to you in time and maybe they won’t.”
“I don’t hold it against you, Jack. We both know how the game is played. You are on the run. I’m just amazed you didn’t put a bullet in my ear.”
“I would have if I hadn’t had no other choice. But I think this will slow you up long enough for me to get my business done. I’ll be taking off now, Custis. I hope we don’t see each other again. Not where business is concerned. Maybe you’ll take another vacation in Mexico and we’ll meet up.”
“You take it easy, Jack.”
“Yeah, and you.”
After a while Longarm heard the muffled sounds of hoofbeats, softened by the sand, receiding into the distance. Only then did he realize how tightly he’d been holding himself. He slowly relaxed down on to the ground. “Damn!” he said aloud. “Boy, howdy!”
Given the situation, he would have never believed that Jack Shaw would have ridden off and left him alive. He’d been expecting a bullet with every word, with every move, with every second. But then, what made a man like Jack Shaw so dangerous was his unpredictability. As a last gesture Shaw had brought the coffeepot out, still half full, before he left. With an awkward hand, because of the manacles, Longarm poured his cup half full and then added a little of the whiskey. The coffee would be weak, second grounds, since Shaw had just added water to what was left in the pot and let it simmer some more. But that was all right. It was good and warm and felt good going down his gullet. He hadn’t been afraid as much as he had dreaded the thought of being shot while manacled to a post. And then to be found like that. It wasn’t the way he wanted to go at all. Not that he’d ever selected a good way, or a way he thought would be best. There was no best, just a few ways that were better than it being clear he had been taken off his guard and manacled with his own cuffs and then killed. It wouldn’t have looked good on his record, he thought wryly to himself.
He wasn’t at all certain how he was going to get out of the manacles. He had some hope for the key he hoped still resided in his jacket pocket, but he had to find some way of getting loose from the post before he could worry about the key. And until it got lighter he wasn’t going to be able to examine the situation very well. The fire from inside was dying out and casting less and less light and less and less warmth. He was grateful for the blanket over his shoulders. It didn’t help all of him, but it at least kept his back warm.
The whiskey and coffee kept his insides in good shape, though he had no plans to drink much of the whiskey. He settled down to wait for dawn, not sure himself how far off it was.
As it had before, it came light all of a sudden. Longarm thought he would never cease to be amazed by the sunrises and sunsets in the high plains. There was something about them that clearly let you know a mighty hand was in charge, and if not a hand, then a design that was intended to let you know just about how small you were, no matter what size shirt you wore.
He guessed Shaw might have been gone an hour, but no more, maybe even less. As soon as he could see, Longarm began the task of freeing himself by examining the roof post he was chained to. It appeared to be a piece of mountain cedar, some six inches in thickness. He thumped it up and down with his knuckles, and pretty well convinced himself the post was solid and likely to remain so for another hundred years or so.
To study the base he pulled his hands down, got down on his knees, and put his face close to the end of the post. If it was buried in the ground, he didn’t have much chance. But as near as he could tell, and from what he could see by scraping away at the rock-hard dirt around the bottom of the post, it was just sitting on the ground and not buried. Next, he looked up to the end of the post where it supported the roof. The end was against the beam that ran all the way across at the edge of the porch. Longarm could not see a single nail or screw or even a piece of wire holding the post and the barn together. The post was simply held in place by the weight of the roof and the post kept the roof supported. It was not a lash-up that was intended for the fancy. It was only intended as a place for a cowboy to sit of a hot afternoon and look out over the prairie from the shade.
He looked the roof over. It was made up of fairly heavy sawn beams that formed a framework that had then been covered with tin. The back end of the roof was held to the face of the building by what looked to Longarm, glancing upward and leaning as far back as he could, like tin straps that had somehow been secured to the rock face, maybe by long screws into the mortar between the stones.