“Try me and find out,” Longarm said, hands balling at his sides.
“And get arrested for beating hell out of a federal officer? No, thanks! You just take your little tin badge, get on the big train, and keep going.”
Longarm smiled thinly. “I’ll tell you this just one time. Turn around and leave, mister. And while you’re at it, take everyone else with you.”
“Bert, you gonna let him talk to you that way?” another miner challenged.
Bert laughed even as he drove his knee upward, intent on crushing Longarm’s testicles. But the man was slow and unsteady because of his drinking, so Longarm had no trouble turning sideways and deflecting the attack. At the same time, he slammed his fist into Bert’s solar plexus, and followed that with a left cross that sent him reeling.
The crowd caught Bert and held him on his feet until he could focus again. Then, they shoved him back at Longarm. Bert charged swinging from all angles, and Longarm ducked three punches but took a wild overhand to the side of the head that rocked him to his foundations and put stars in his eyes.
“Get him, Bert! Get him!” some of the miners shouted.
Bert snorted like a bull and tried to grab Longarm and crush him. Ducking and retreating, Longarm bought a few precious minutes by managing to elude the miner’s charges. But the bells were still ringing in his head when Bert aimed another kick at his groin. Longarm managed to grab the miner’s boot with both hands and heave it upward. Bert slammed down on his back so hard that the wind gushed from his lungs. Longarm didn’t wait for him to recover. He dropped on the man’s chest and sledged him four or five times in the face, breaking Bert’s nose and opening a wicked gash across his cheek.
“He’s had enough!” someone cried. Longarm climbed off the bloodied and dazed miner. He shook the cobwebs out of his own head and then said, “I’ll tell you just one more time—disperse!”
The miners, angry and disappointed, dragged Ben to his feet and over into a saloon. Longarm touched the side of his face and felt the swelling. He turned to see Marshal Walker standing in the doorway with a shotgun in his hands.
“Who were you going to use that scattergun on?” Longarm asked the town marshal. “Them or me?”
Walker chuckled. “Seeing as how they have a vote in Auburn and you don’t, Marshal Long, I reckon you can figure that one out for yourself.”
Longarm knew that the lawman was teasing. Flexing his hands and then rubbing his stinging knuckles, he shook his head and headed on down the street a few steps before he turned and looked back. “Walker?”
“Yeah?”
“If you have trouble tonight, I’ll come running.”
“I’m in good shape,” Walker said. “The trouble is over now, thanks to your help.”
“I hope you’re right,” Longarm said. “By the way, where can I find High Street?”
“You’re going in the right direction. Two blocks south, then turn right. And give my best regards to Miss Vacarro.”
“That surprises me.”
“Why?”
“Well, I just didn’t have the impression that you thought much of Stella.”
“Oh, that’s not true,” Walker said. “Stella has always played it square with me. I’ve never had a minute worth of trouble from her or her saloon. She’s a hell of a good businesswoman and runs an honest house.”
“That doesn’t surprise me,” Longarm said, turning and walking down the street.
Chapter 6
Longarm had passed through Auburn on the train going to Sacramento a time or two, but he’d never really had a good look at the old mining town. Now, as he headed off to find Stella, he could see that Auburn had enjoyed quite a bit of prosperity in its heyday before the rich ore deposits had finally begun to peter out. The old section of town had apparently been razed by a fire and rebuilt, so that it now had the look of permanence with an impressive firehouse, a big Masonic hall, and the Wells Fargo office. The Union Bar was doing a good business, and Longarm could hear organ music and a choir practicing in the Pioneer Methodist Church.
The city’s broad streets were lined with trees, and most of the houses were constructed of either rock or brick and had lawns and gardens. It was a handsome town, one of the few that had obviously been blessed by the arrival of the railroad. There was little doubt that Auburn had a bright and lasting future. Longarm had no trouble finding High Street, and he was not surprised to see that it was in one of nicest parts of the town. Stella Vacarro had always sought respectability, and it would be like her to buy a proper Victorian house just like any other successful business owner.
When he came to Stella’s place, Longarm leaned on a white picket fence and studied the house with its blooming red roses. It was an ideal home, and only needed a few children playing tag in the yard to fit the dream of what most working-class Americans hoped to one day achieve.
Longarm opened the gate and climbed the wide porch, then knocked on the front door. Stella appeared looking as pretty as ever, despite dark circles under her eyes.
“Custis!” she cried, knocking open the screen door and throwing herself into his arms. “I was wondering if you’d make it before or after my wedding!”
“Well,” he said a little sheepishly, “I was a day late leaving Denver and then we were robbed coming over Donner Pass.”
Stella had big brown eyes, high cheekbones, and a slightly Roman nose. Her hair was long, wavy, and hickory-colored, and her flawless complexion was olive. Stella was a tall, graceful woman, full-breasted, who laughed easily and made Longarm laugh as well. You couldn’t help but be attracted to Stella, and when she looked at a man, he’d have to be half dead not to feel his heartbeat quicken.
“What happened to your face!” she exclaimed, holding him out at arm’s reach. “Have you already been in a fight?”
“It wasn’t much of one,” he told her. “Marshal Walker asked me to join his posse. We were fortunate enough to catch the train robbers and put an end to that gang-“
As if to prove his point, Longarm pulled out his Ingersoll watch and gold chain. “You see, they took this from me at gunpoint so I really had no choice but to help out a little.”
“I bet more than a little,” Stella said, taking his arm. “Come inside! I’ll pour you a drink and fix you dinner!”
“Sounds good,” Longarm told her as she escorted him into a marble-floored hallway and then into a richly appointed parlor. “You have a beautiful home, Stella.”
“it pleases me if it pleases you,” she said graciously. “I bought this house four years ago from a man who was dying of a cancer and didn’t care if he made his neighbors angry by selling it to a saloon owner and former madam.”
Longarm studied the shelves of books. “Have you become a reader of literature?”
“Of course not!” She laughed. “Life is my teacher. But the former owner had no heirs and so I bought everything including his furniture. I got rid of many things—but not his books. He was a painter—but without talent. So I gave his paintings away to a charity and imported my own from San Francisco. They are all original oils. Do you like them?”
He did not really, because they tended to be mostly vases with flowers and birds on the wing. The sort of thing a woman could appreciate more than a man.
Stella had a small but very fancy bar constructed in one corner of the parlor, and she poured them each a tumbler of her best brandy.
“What shall we toast to?” she asked.
“To you and your future husband. May you have a long and happy life together.”
“Thank you,” she said, touching their glasses together in salute as they both downed their drinks. Stella poured another and then motioned for Longarm to have a seat. “You look a little tired, Custis.”