“Such as?”
“I don’t know. A bullet wound or evidence of poisoning?”
“No. Most definitely not,” the man said without hesitation, “but why don’t you ask Dr. Davis?”
“I will,” Longarm promised, heading outside, “but I doubt that he gave the man a thorough examination given all that has gone on in this town and that his main concern was caring for Marshal Walker.”
Longarm was about to say more when he heard a rifle shot. His hand reached for his gun and he was out the door just in time to see Lola collapsing beside Marshal Walker, who was lying in the street. Out of the corner of his eye Longarm saw a flash of movement, and looked up to see a rifleman on the roof of the mercantile building. The man fired again and Walker’s body convulsed as it took the impact of a second bullet.
Longarm opened fire, hoping to wound the rifleman. But his very first bullet struck the man in the chest and his second slug spun him halfway around, causing the ambusher to pitch forward and do a complete somersault before his body slammed down on the boardwalk. It wasn’t necessary for Longarm to go examine the body because he knew that the ambusher was dead.
“Pete!”
Walker was gone. Lola threw her arms around Longarm’s neck and hugged him tightly. “Why!” she wailed. “Why did they have to murder him!”
“I don’t know.”
“He was such a nice man!”
“Yes,” Longarm replied, “and also a damned fine lawman.”
Marshal Jones appeared, gun in hand. He took one look at Pete’s bullet-riddled body and said, “Dammit, what the hell is going on in this town?”
“I can’t answer that either,” Longarm said, “but one way or another, I swear that we’ll find out.”
Chapter 13
Longarm took control of the situation. “Everyone listen up!” he shouted, marching over to the dead ambusher. “This man has just shot down Marshal Walker. Who is he!”
The gathering crowd gawked at the two dead men, but said nothing.
“I asked you to identify this cold-blooded ambusher!” Longarm angrily bellowed. “Is anyone man enough to step forward and help?”
An old, gray-bearded fellow in baggy overalls detached himself from the crowd. “His name was Claude Blanton.”
Longarm hurried over to the man. “Where does he live?”
“Down the railroad line somewhere around Newcastle,” the informant replied. “He rode over here once in a while to trade a horse or raise a little hell. Blanton was a bad one.”
“Who did he work for?”
“I dunno,” the old man replied, shaking his head. “He ran with a tough bunch. Seemed to me that they did a little of everything outside the law including claim jumping and horse stealing. Once in a while, he’d get a job drivin’ freight wagons for the Central Pacific, and I hear he was a good mule skinner. But he never stuck at anything very long.”
“Thanks,” Longarm said. “What’s your name?”
“Fred Potts. I own a little harness repair shop just up the street. I liked Marshal Walker. We were friends for a lot of years. Damn shame that a fine man like him was ambushed by a snake like Claude Blanton.”
“I agree,” Longarm said bitterly. He looked around at the others in the crowd. “Anyone else have anything to say about Blanton?”
“I was in the Rusty Bucket Saloon last night where Blanton was drinking pretty hard,” another man offered.
“So was I,” a smallish fellow with bloodshot blue eyes and a crumpled hat added.
“Yeah, I saw him there too,” Potts said.
“Anyone else see Blanton in the last couple of days?”
Several men raised their hands.
“All right then,” Longarm said. “I’d need to have a few words with all of you as soon as we get things taken care of here. We’ll meet at the marshal’s office.”
Longarm started to turn away, then hesitated. “I’d like to say one last thing. You folks had one of the best marshals I’ve ever known, and you treated him badly even though he was just trying to carry out the law. This town didn’t deserve a man like Pete Walker. But now that you’ve lost him, at least a few of you are trying to set things right by telling me what you know about his murderer.”
Longarm went over and gently pulled Lola to her feet. The young woman was very upset and tears were coursing down her cheeks.
“We’re all going to miss him,” Longarm said. “It’s just a damn rotten shame.”
Lola nodded and leaned against Longarm’s chest. He looked over to Marshal Jones. “Will you take care of things here?”
“Sure,” Jones said, “we’ll get the bodies to the undertaker’s office and I’ll get the names of everyone who spoke up about seeing Blanton.”
“Thanks,” Longarm told the lawman. Then he led Lola away asking, “Where are you staying?”
“At the Central Hotel,” she replied. “It’s just up the street and over a block.”
Longarm escorted Lola to her hotel room. It hurt him to see how hard she was taking Walker’s death. “I wish I could say something that would help,” Longarm said as he stood awkwardly beside her door. “There’s just nothing fair about life, and I don’t have any idea why Blanton killed Pete. But after I interview those people who stepped forward, I’ll be going down to Newcastle to find out who might have hired him.”
“What if he wasn’t hired?” Lola asked. “What if Claude Blanton just had an old grudge against Pete, got drunk, and then decided to ambush him?”
“That’s always a possibility,” Longarm admitted, “but not too likely. My guess is that Blanton was hired to ambush Pete. Maybe he was even hoping to put a bullet in me before he turned and ran. Lola, I just don’t know yet—but I won’t rest until I find out.”
She wiped tears from her face. “Do you know what Pete asked the last time we were alone together?”
“No.”
“He asked me to marry him. Can you imagine? He said he was probably old enough to be my father and that he wasn’t the man he’d once been, but he said he would make me happy. I believed that, Custis. I agreed to marry him. We were going to go away and live quietly. I was going to … to change. Honest to God, I really was!”
“I believe you.”
“Why! Why did this have to happen!”
“I don’t know,” Longarm replied. “Good people often die much too young. At least Pete had a reasonably long life. And for what it’s worth, I think you’ll find someone else who can also make you happy.”
She wiped her eyes dry and took a few hesitant steps forward. “I’d quickly gotten used to the idea of marrying a lawman. Maybe sometime, we
…”
“I’ll be around,” Longarm said quickly as he closed her door behind him.
He wasted no time returning to the marshal’s office, and was relieved to see that everyone who had stepped forward out in the street, plus at least a half dozen more, were waiting outside to help with the investigation.
“I thank you all for coming,” he told them. “This town meant a lot to Pete, and now I am finally starting to understand why. And don’t worry, I’m going to talk to each of you individually and in strict confidence.”
“We ain’t afraid of nothing happening if we talk,” a man said. “Blanton was a hardcase and a troublemaker. We don’t want that kind coming into Auburn and gunning our people down. If he was working with others, we want them brought to justice. Right now, none of us are feeling too proud about the things that have been going on in Auburn.”
“Good,” Longarm said, looking to the old harness maker. “You volunteered first, so you can be the first to come inside and tell me whatever you know.”
Fred Potts nodded, spat tobacco juice on the boardwalk, and followed Longarm inside.