"Well, old son, you'd better just keep on looking, because I ain't the sort to settle down. Though I'll agree that Miss Molly is mighty pretty and mighty smart."
"Diamond K good spread. Man who marry Missy Molly wind up with ranch too."
Longarm threw back his head and laughed. "You're a hell of a salesman, Wing. But like I said, I ain't the kind of man she needs." The cook shrugged and said, "Cannot blame Wing for trying."
"No, I reckon not." Longarm played a hunch and went on. "What do you think about all the troubles Mr. Kinsman's been having lately? You reckon those loggers are behind it, like him and Mr. Traywick think they are?"
"Wing cook once for logging camp. Timber men hate cowboys. Not like 'em at all. Ver' much hard feelings." Wing's head bobbed up and down. "Lumberjacks could try hurt Diamond K."
"You've been around timber cutters before, you said. Did you ever run across any of 'em who knew one end of a cow from the other?"
Wing frowned. "Lumberjacks not like cattle, except eat."
"That's right. Seems to me like they'd have had a hard time rustling very many steers, especially since whoever did that was so slick they didn't even leave a trail."
"Wing not think of that. Confused now."
"You and me both, old son," Longarm told him. "You and me both."
The previous night Longarm had again listened closely in the bunkhouse for anything that might give away the culprits, and again he had come up empty. This was turning into an odd case. There was trouble on both sides of the argument, and he had likely suspects for all the wrongdoing, but not an ounce of proof for anything. His years in law enforcement had taught him that the simplest explanation was usually the right one... but there were always exceptions that proved the rule.
He pondered on the situation all the way into Timber City. Once they arrived, he was too busy to think about it very much. Wing kept him hopping as they gathered their supplies and loaded them into the back of the wagon. The barbed wire was at the depot, having come in on a freight from back East. The talkative ticket agent noticed Longarm hefting the rolls of wire and tossing them into the back of the Diamond K wagon, and he strolled out of the building to say, "See you got a job."
"Yep," said Longarm. "Riding for the Diamond K."
"Well, good luck to you."
Longarm waved at the man, then, when he was finished with the barbed wire, told Wing, "I'm going down to the hotel to pick up my gear."
"Ver' good. Start back to ranch soon."
"I'll be right back," Longarm promised.
The desk clerk at the Ponderosa House was the same one who had told Longarm to wipe his feet a couple of days earlier. He looked at Longarm and said, "Well. I didn't know if we'd see you back here or not."
"I paid for two nights," Longarm reminded him. "That means my warbag and Winchester ought to still be up in my room."
"Actually, they're here behind the counter. I had one of the boys bring them down earlier this morning."
Longarm supposed the clerk had been within his rights to do that, but it still annoyed him a little. He gave the clerk a curt nod as the man handed the rifle and the warbag over the counter to him.
"Leaving town, are you?" asked the clerk.
"I'm riding for the Diamond K now," said Longarm. Wouldn't hurt to spread that news, he thought. Having a job in the area would allow him to poke around without arousing any suspicions--he hoped.
He had to get word to Aurora Mcentire that he was still working on her behalf, despite his employment on Matt Kinsman's ranch. The best thing to do might be to pay a surreptitious visit to the lumber camp as soon as possible. He would keep his eyes open for an opportunity to do just that.
He slung his warbag over his shoulder and carried the Winchester back down to the depot, where Wing was waiting impatiently on the seat of the spring wagon. The reins were already in the cook's hands when Longarm tossed his warbag in the back on top of the supplies. He kept the rifle across his knees as he settled down on the seat next to Wing.
"Must get back to ranch now," said Wing as he slapped the reins against the backs of the mule team pulling the wagon.
"What's your hurry?" asked Longarm.
"Mr. Kinsman, he want peach cobbler for supper tonight. Take long time get ready and cook."
Longarm's culinary skills began and ended with biscuits, beans, bacon, and a few other items of trail food, so he didn't dispute Wing's statement. All he knew about peach cobbler was that he liked to eat it, not how long it took to prepare it.
Wing kept the wagon moving at a brisk pace as they left town on the trail that ran to the north, roughly paralleling the mountains and twisting among the foothills. Longarm rocked easily with the vehicle's motion.
They had covered about half the distance between Timber City and the Diamond K when Wing hit a particularly rough stretch of trail. Longarm was jolted heavily.
As his head jerked to the side, what sounded like a giant bee whipped past his ear.
Longarm knew that sound, knew it all too well. Hard on the heels of it came the crack of a rifle. Longarm lifted the Winchester and worked its lever, jacking a shell into the chamber, as he called out to Wing, "Whip up those jugheads! Somebody's shooting at us!"
Wing let out a startled yell and began flapping the reins harder. Longarm had no idea where the first shot had come from, but as a second bullet buzzed past his head, he saw a puff of smoke come from a thickly wooded knoll about two hundred yards ahead of them, to the left of the trail. Which meant as the wagon careened along, it was actually drawing closer to the bushwhacker--or bushwhackers, because there might be more than one.
Longarm snapped the Winchester to his shoulder and fired three times as fast as he could work the Winchester's lever. He didn't expect to hit anything--the spring wagon had a gentler ride than a plain buckboard, but he was still bouncing around pretty good--but maybe the return fire would distract the hidden rifleman a little anyway.
A slug chewed splinters from the narrow patch of wagon seat between them, making both of them jump and Wing yell, "Son of a bitch!"
Longarm threw another shot at the knoll. The trail was too narrow for the wagon to be able to turn around easily, so the best course of action--the only course of action, really--was to rush straight ahead just like they were doing.
The mules were running flat out now. Mules were sometimes difficult to get started, but once they began running there was no stopping them for a while. Longarm was jolted again, and had to grab the small iron railing around the outside of the seat to keep from being thrown from his perch. Beside him, Wing was still yelling and whipping the mules, though it was no longer really necessary considering the way they were already galloping.
Another sharp crack sounded, but this time it didn't come from a hidden gun. It was much closer, right underneath them, in fact. Longarm recognized it as the sound of an axle breaking. "Look out, Wing!" he yelled as he felt the right front corner of the wagon dip drastically. Then the wheel spun off, and the body of the wagon crashed into the rutted trail.
Longarm kicked himself upward off the seat, trying to throw himself clear. Somehow he managed to hang on to the Winchester as he sailed through the air and then slammed to the ground next to the trail. Luckily, the grass there was thick enough to break his fall, at least slightly. As he rolled over and over, he heard a grinding crash that he knew was the wagon overturning. He came to a stop on his belly and shook his head, trying to clear away some of the cobwebs that had gathered there during the last few perilous seconds.
Wing had jumped clear of the wagon too, Longarm saw. The wiry little Chinaman was scrambling to his feet on the other side of the trail. He darted toward the wrecked wagon, clearly intending to use it for cover from the ambusher's fire. The hidden gunman on the knoll wasn't shooting at Wing, however. His target was Longarm, who surged up onto hands and knees as slugs thudded into the ground around him. He flung himself toward the trail and the overturned wagon, sprawling behind the wrecked vehicle as more lead whined around him.