“I see.” Megan studied the badly abused saddle and acted like she did not even hear Kirkwood’s response. “So what about all the rumors that he is bleeding this town and shooting down people rather than arresting them and seeing them brought to trial.”
“His deputy is as bad as Marshal Kane. Worse, in fact.”
“I haven’t yet met the man.”
“Name is Hec Ward, and he’s a bloodthirsty bastard that would as soon shoot a man as give him a hello.”
“I see.”
“No,” Kirkwood said, “you don’t see until you’ve watched that pair in action when they collect their fees.”
“Do you pay him?”
Kirkwood lowered his chin to his chest. “I didn’t want to,” he whispered. “At first I held out like some of the others. Then things started happening to my horses and stuff. Next thing I knew, there was a note on my barn door saying that, if I didn’t cooperate, my barn and haystack would be burned to the ground. That would wipe me out, Miss Riley.”
“And this note came from Marshal Kane?”
“I don’t know. He and his deputy would never be stupid enough to show their hand that way. Oh, they’ll collect their protection money, but they wouldn’t let anyone know it was done under a threat.”
“But you’re pretty sure that it was them?”
“Who else stands to gain?”
“No one that I know about,” Megan said.
“They’re a cancer on this town. It was bad before they came. It’s even worse now. But Marshal Kane and his deputy with the hook hand aren’t the real powers in this town.”
“They’re not?”
“No,” Kirkwood said, with a look of satisfaction. “Even they have to take their orders.”
“From?”
“I don’t know. Maybe some of the mine owners. They’re the ones with the most money and power in Bodie.”
“But why would they-“
“To get even more money,” Kirkwood said. “Have you ever seen anyone claimed they had enough money?”
“Not outside the clergy.”
“Then I rest my case,” Kirkwood said.
Megan went to work repairing the saddles, but her mind was really on Custis and the disturbing news that she had just learned with all of its evil ramifications.
Chapter 11
When Megan finally showed up at their hotel room, Longarm let her in and then locked the door. “Where have you been so long?” he asked.
“At Kirkwood’s livery repairing a saddle and buying a couple of horses. Why?”
“I want you to leave town now,” Longarm said, sitting her down on the bed. “I want you to ride to Carson City.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s the nearest telegraph office.”
“Who-“
“I want you to send a telegraph to my office in Denver, Megan. It needs to go off as fast as possible.”
“I can’t leave you here alone!”
“Of course you can,” he said firmly. “There’s going to be trouble and I may need some help.”
“Then that’s all the more reason for me to stay!”
“No, it isn’t,” Longarm argued. “What I really need you to do is to get to Carson City and send off that telegram.”
Longarm rustled through his pockets until he found a paper and pencil. “I’ll write out exactly what I want you to send.”
Megan bounced off the bed. “I can’t do this,” she said. “I can’t run out on you. Mr. Kirkwood told me that this town is ready to explode. That Marshal Kane and his deputy, while they may think they’re the ones in power, are only fooling themselves. Kirkwood says it’s the mine owners that control things here in Bodie.”
“I know,” Longarm said. “Kane admitted as much. But he said that the miners’ union and saloon owners also have a lot of power.”
“So who,” Megan asked with exasperation, “really does run things in this town?”
“That’s the problem,” Longarm said. “No one does. There’s this big power struggle going on and it’s bound to erupt in gunfire and bloodshed. Kane and his deputy, a man named Hec Ward, are trying to act tough, but I think they’re really worried.”
“They’ve got every reason to be.”
“Megan,” Longarm said. “Marshal Kane and Deputy Ward as much as told me that I’d be shot on sight if I didn’t take his warning and leave Bodie today.”
“Then why don’t you! We can ride to Carson City and wait for help.”
“That isn’t going to help me get to the bottom of all this trouble,” Longarm argued. “I’ve never been scared off before, and I’m not about to be scared off now.”
“Use your head, Custis!” Megan cried, throwing her arms around his neck and hugging him tightly. “You need help!”
Longarm began to pace back and forth. He knew that Megan was making a lot of sense, and yet … and yet it galled him no end to think about retreating from Bodie to seek reinforcements. He had always been proud of being able to handle any situation on his own, and he did not want to see that changed.
“We’ll leave now,” Megan said. “We’ll ride to Carson City and send that telegram. How long would it be before you could expect some federal officers?”
“Four or five days.”
“Well what difference would that small amount of time make!” Megan exclaimed. “They’ve been spilling blood in Bodie for years.”
Longarm wavered. There was a case to be made for backing off here and returning with help. Even great Civil War generals like Sherman and Grant had often retreated, only to regroup and strike again when the odds were more in their favor.
“You have nothing to prove,” Megan was saying as she walked over to the window and then turned to face him. “Getting caught in the middle of some power struggle between the miners’ union, the mine operators, the saloon owners, and Marshal Kane simply doesn’t make any sense.”
“Maybe you’re right,” Longarm finally conceded. “If they see me leaving town, that might just lull everyone into thinking that I’ve gotten cold feet. They might get careless and-“
Longarm’s words were cut short by the boom of a high-powered rifle and the shattering of their glass hotel window. A shout of warning filled his throat, but even as he jumped toward Megan, he knew that he was too late to protect her.
The impact of the heavy-caliber slug spun her completely around and threw Megan to the floor.
“No!” Longarm shouted, diving to Megan’s side.
The wound was ugly and bleeding heavily, but it was not going to be fatal. Longarm saw at once that Megan had been extremely fortunate, that the ambusher had not had a clear view but had fired only at a shadow on their curtain. Megan would live if he could stop the hemorrhaging.
“Oh, dammit!” he shouted, jumping over to the bed and tearing up a sheet. “Megan!”
She was conscious, but already pale. She tried to push herself erect, but he held her to the floor saying, “Just relax and lie still. I’m going to get this bleeding under control and then we’ll get you a doctor.”
“What … what happened?” she whispered as he pressed the bandaging to her shoulder. “Custis, tell me the truth, am I going to die?”
“No,” he promised. “I swear that you’re going to be fine. You were lucky, Megan. It’s just a flesh wound. I can’t tell yet, but I think the slug passed right on through the muscle and tissue without hitting any bone.”
“It’s numb,” she breathed. “It doesn’t even hurt. But I feel cold!”
Longarm pressed the bedding even tighter to the wound. He’d been shot a number of times himself, and he knew the feeling that Megan was experiencing and that the pain would come later.
“Just hold still.”
“Who was it?” she whispered. “Who shot me?”
“I don’t know,” he replied, “but I swear to God that I’ll find out.”
“Probably the marshal or his deputy.”
“Probably.”
Longarm checked Megan’s pulse, and was not surprised to discover that it was racing. “Megan,” he said, “we need to get a doctor up here.”