Ghote poured it for him and brought it to him, bending gracefully to hand it to him. Longarm recalled the “medicine” he had seen the servant giving to Lady Beechmuir, and wondered what the stuff was. If it cured headaches, Longarm could use some right about now to go with the coffee. He wasn’t going to ask about it, however, knowing from the way Helene had acted that she didn’t want her husband to know about what she was taking. Could be too that it was laudanum, and Longarm didn’t want any part of that. He would just put up with the pounding in his skull, he decided as he sipped the strong black brew.
Longarm shifted his gaze to Catamount Jack and Lucy. “Did either of you get a good look at the bushwhacker when you opened up on him?”
“Nope,” Lucy replied. “Pa and me heard the shootin’ and rode over to the river to see what was goin’ on. We got there just in time to see you go tumblin’ out of your saddle.”
Catamount Jack took up the story. “Saw powder smoke comin’ from the trees on the opposite bank, so we unlimbered our Sharpses and started throwin’ lead. Don’t know if we ever hit the sumbitch or not, but a couple of minutes later we heard hoofbeats ‘cross the river. Reckon he lit a shuck out o’ there once he saw what he was up against.”
“It was Rainey,” Longarm said with a nod. “Had to be. Nobody else had any reason to ambush us.”
Thorp said, “Lord Beechmuir and I arrived a few minutes later. We had heard the shooting, of course, and we abandoned the search and came as soon as we could. When we got there, I thought you were dead, Long, just like poor Benson. There was blood all over your head.” He pointed at Lucy with a thumb. “This young lady was determined to patch you up, though. She said she wasn’t going to let you die.”
Longarm looked at Lucy, who seemed a bit uncomfortable with that revelation. “I could tell you’d be all right,” she said gruffly. “You ain’t the first fella I ever saw who’d been creased by a bullet.”
“Hell, the gal’s doctored me back to health when I was a heap worse off,” Catamount Jack said, pride in his voice. “Why, I remember one time up in Wyoming when I got to rasslin’ with this ol’ silver-tip grizzly-“
“Nobody wants to hear about that, Pa,” Lucy broke in. “What’s important is that Marshal Long will be all right if he takes it easy for a few days.”
Longarm wasn’t sure he had a few days in which to rest. Not with Rainey still on the loose, Thorp’s wife still missing, and a monster still roaming around the area. By morning, he would have to be able to ride again, concussed or not.
He looked at Thorp and asked, “Did you find those tracks in the riverbed?”
Thorp nodded, a look of excitement on his face. “We saw them, all right. Once we’d buried Benson and set up camp and Miss Vermilion was tending to you, Lord Beechmuir, Catamount Jack, and I went to take a better look.”
Somehow, the idea of Catamount Jack and Lord Beechmuir hunting the creature side by side struck Longarm as a little funny, but once he thought about it, there were some similarities between the two men. Both of them were hunters, both devoted to stalking their quarry through just about any kind of wilderness.
“Unfortunately, we lost the trail on the other side of the river,” Lord Beechmuir said. “Damn bad luck, if you ask me.”
“The varmint went traipsin’ over a big stretch o’ limestone up on one of them cliffs overlookin’ the river,” said Catamount Jack. “Couldn’t pick up his trail again. He’s a slippery cuss, that’un.”
Longarm heard the frustration in the mountain man’s voice. He knew the feeling. To have had Mitch Rainey locked up in jail, only to lose him again … that was the kind of thing that would have had Longarm tearing his hair out by the roots had he been the type to give in to such emotional displays.
Thorp took a cigar from inside his coat, lit it with a flaming twig from the fire, and blew out a cloud of smoke. “We’re going to join forces with Vermilion and his daughter,” he said. “I brought along enough supplies to last for several days. I’m not going back until I find that beast and find out what happened to my wife. But I can send Randall back to town with you and Lady Beechmuir if you want, Long.”
“Wait just a moment,” Helene protested before Longarm could say anything. “I haven’t asked to return to town, have I?”
Her husband snorted. “For God’s sake, you were almost killed this afternoon, Helene! Not only do we have to contend with the monster, whatever it may be, but now there’s that man Rainey to worry about. No, I insist you return to the town with Marshal Long.”
“I haven’t said I was going back,” Longarm snapped.
“You’re in no shape to go gallivanting around over the countryside,” Lucy told him.
Longarm shook his head. “I’ll be fine. I’ve got a stake in this hunt too.”
“If we find Rainey, we’ll bring him back to Cottonwood Springs,” offered Thorp.
“I don’t reckon my boss would be too understanding happen I should tell him I sat around town while a bunch of civilians tracked down an escaped prisoner for me,” Longarm said dryly. “No offense, Mr. Thorp, but you don’t know Chief Marshal Billy Vail the way I do.”
Thorp shrugged. “I’m not going to argue with you. It’s your head, Long.”
“And I’m not going to argue either,” Helene said. “I’m staying with the group, and that’s final.”
Booth seemed about to disagree some more with his wife; then an expression of resignation appeared on his distinguished features. “Very well,” he said curtly. “I know that arguing with you, Helene, is much like arguing with the London fog. It does as it pleases, no matter how one rails against it.”
Helene smiled smugly. “So very gracious of you, John.”
At the moment, Longarm wasn’t interested in the way they sniped at each other. The sickness in his belly had passed, and now he was conscious of how empty it was. “If there’s any supper left, I could do with some,” he said, and Randamar Ghote brought him a plate of bacon, biscuits, and beans. Simple fare, but Longarm had rarely tasted better. The fancy china, the folding table, and the champagne were nowhere in sight tonight. Obviously, the events of the afternoon had made everyone in the party realize that this was serious business, not some sort of lark. Longarm hoped that Lord and Lady Beechmuir, especially, would remember that.
While Longarm was finishing the food, Thorp said, “We’d better take turns standing guard tonight. I don’t want that monster stumbling over our camp in the dark … although if he did, that’d save us the trouble of hunting him down.”
“Capital idea, Benjamin,” Lord Beechmuir agreed. “There are six men, not counting the marshal, who should be exempt due to his injury, of course. I suggest we form teams of two men each. Singh and I would be glad to take the first turn, then Ghote and your man Randall could have the second part of the night, leaving yourself and Mr. Vermilion to finish the task.”
Thorp was nodding when Lucy said, “Wait just a darned minute. I can stand guard as well as any man.”
“‘Tain’t necessary, daughter,” Catamount Jack said. “What Lord Beechmuir says makes sense.”
Longarm was feeling better now that he had eaten, so he spoke up. “I don’t mind taking a turn. I had a nice long nap—even though it wasn’t my idea.”
“There’s a big difference in sleepin’ and bein’ knocked unconscious,” Lucy pointed out. “You ought to rest, Marshal.”
Longarm set his empty plate aside and fished a cheroot out of his shirt pocket. This bunch couldn’t do anything without talking it to death first, he realized. The whole lot of them should have run for Congress and gone to Washington. But he just said mildly, “If you’re worried about me, Miss Vermilion, I reckon you and me could take the same turn. Then you could keep an eye on me.”