Now they were really close, only a hundred yards away. Longarm moved stealthfully to the tree on the outside of the little clump. His plan was to step out and stop the party. He could see that Hawkins was managing to guide them as close to the cottonwood clump as he could. They had slowed now to a trot as they approached the gully that ran right in front of the cottonwoods. In another second, they would be within voice range. The whole point was to get Archie Barrett, but Longarm’s main intent was to make sure nothing happened to Mr. Hawkins. His finger was going to be very steady on the trigger and his instincts were going to be very quick to react.
When the horsemen were fifteen or twenty yards away, Longarm stepped out from behind the tree, his rifle cocked and at the ready. His sudden appearance caused them to check their horses. Longarm called out in a loud voice, “Halt! Stop! This is the law!”
They came to a halt some fifteen yards away. Longarm could tell that they were confused. He recognized the outside rider to his right. It was the man with the torn ear, and he knew almost in the same instant they had pulled their horses up that the man was going to go for his gun. He knew that the man was going to try something different, but Longarm was ready. He saw the man begin to slip sideways out of the saddle, and he shot the hired hand before he could get halfway off his horse. The bullet hit the man in the upper right part of his chest and drove him the rest of the way to the ground. He knew the man had been planning on dropping off the left side of his horse and then making a shot from under the animal.
Longarm had no time to dwell on that. Already, with the sound of his rifle still ringing in his ears, he was swinging on the gunman to his immediate left. The man had drawn his revolver and was in the act of cocking it when Longarm shot him just below the throat. The rider went backwards, one boot hanging up in his stirrup so that as he fell off, he hit the ground with his legs still in the air. His horse bolted forward and dragged him a few yards until his foot came out of the boot, and then he lay on his back on the prairie.
Hawkins, acting as surprised as if it were all news to him, had thrown both of his hands in the air and yelled, “Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot!”
The ranch boss had made no move for a gun. Instead, Archie Barrett had kept both hands on the horn of his saddle. He sat there, stolid, not moving, in a black suit and vest and a black, narrow-brimmed derby. He said, “What is this? Robbery? What are you after?”
Longarm walked closer to the man, his rifle at the ready. He said, “Are you Archie Barrett?”
The man, who was of large girth and had a small mustache said, “That’s my name. What’s it to you?”
Longarm guessed him to be in his mid-thirties. He was dark-haired but had a surprisingly light complexion for one who must have lived some of his life outdoors. Longarm said, “My name is Custis Long. I am a United States deputy marshal. You’re under arrest.”
Barrett stared at him. He said, “You’ve got no call to arrest me. I’m a private citizen on private business. You have killed two of my men. You, sir, will pay for this.”
Longarm said, “Who’s this other man?” He nodded his head at Hawkins.
Barrett said, “If you want to know so bad, ask him yourself. It’s none of my affair. I’m going back to my ranch.”
Longarm pulled the hammer back on his Winchester. He said, “You make one move to turn your horse in the wrong direction, Mr. Barrett, and I can guarantee that it’ll be the last move you ever make.”
Barrett stared at him defiantly. He said, “You wouldn’t dare. I’m an important man, a money man, a man with friends in high places.”
Longarm said evenly, “You turn that horse the wrong way, and you’re going to be a man with friends in low places. Six feet low. As far as I’m concerned, if you turn your back on me, you’ll be an escaping prisoner, and I won’t have the slightest hesitation about shooting you down. Do I make myself clear?”
For answer, Barrett stared sullenly back at him. He said, “You have killed two of my men in cold blood. I’ll see you hang for that.”
Longarm nodded his head slightly, first to the left and then to the right to where the men lay on the ground. He said, “If you’ll take notice, and I call on this other gentleman to take notice, both of those men have drawn pistols near them. They were both killed in self-defense and in the line of duty, just as you are now under arrest in the line of duty, Mr. Barrett.”
Barrett said, “What are your grounds for arresting me?”
“I’m getting damned tired of talking to you, Barrett. Now, you see those two horses that are loose? They’re starting to step on their reins. You get off your horse and go over there and tie their reins back behind the saddle horns. Then give them a lick on the hip and send them back to your ranch. I expect they’ll go back to the ranch, unless they’re stolen.”
Barrett didn’t move. “I’m not catching up any horses.”
Longarm took several deliberate steps toward the black figure on the horse. He stood just beside the man who had his hands held so delicately on the saddle horn. He said, “Barrett, I’ll warn you one more time. Get off your horse and rig those reins on those two loose ponies before they tear their mouths out stepping on their reins.”
Barrett looked down at him contemptuously. He said, “Go to hell.”
With a swift, sudden movement, Longarm reversed the Winchester in his hands and drove the butt stock of it into Barrett’s ample stomach. The man gasped as the air went out of him, and his face contorted with pain. He sagged sideways in the saddle. Longarm drew the Winchester back to give him another blow. He said, “You want some more?”
Barrett put up a weak hand. He said in a strangled voice, “Hold it, hold it. I’m hurt.”
“You’re fixing to be hurt a lot worse.”
Just then, Hawkins said, “Marshal, how about letting me? I’m used to handling livestock, a good deal more than Mr. Barrett here. This poor man has been through a hard and trying day.”
“And just who might you be, sir?” Longarm said. He turned to face George Hawkins and gave him a wink.
Hawkins said, “I’m just a leather peddler. I’d been out making a call on Mr. Barrett to show him a saddle. We were just peacefully going down to look at that saddle.”
Longarm said, “Then, I reckon you’ll be coming along with us. All right, get off your horse and tie the reins back on those two ponies and turn them back toward home.”
Hawkins slid gracefully out of his saddle and then caught up the first of the horses of the two dead men and quickly tied its reins behind the saddle horn so that they wouldn’t be interfered with. He caught up the other one and did the same with it. After that, he led both horses in the direction of Barrett’s ranch and gave them a hoot and holler and a slap on the rump and sent them on their way.
By the time he had finished, some of the color had come back to Barrett’s face, though he was still leaning over in his saddle, holding his middle. Longarm said, “Have I got to tell you something twice again, Barrett?”
Archie Barrett wouldn’t look up nor would he speak.
Longarm said, “I asked you a question, and you better damned well answer it, or you’re going to get some more where you don’t want it. Do I have to tell you something twice again?”
In a sullen voice, Barrett said, “No, I suppose not, Marshal. If you really are a marshal.”