“It looks like you folks have things under control here,” Longarm said. “Reckon I’ll make that visit to the telegraph office. Then see what I can do about putting your arsonist under arrest.”
Longarm did not say anything out loud for Parminter to overhear, but the truth was that he was glad he could bring George in on a charge of arson. No sense in adding anything about assault on a federal officer since that would only muddy the waters when it came to Longarm’s shaky claims to jurisdiction in the murder case.
And he damn well was not going to give up on that one. Not until some-damn-body was behind bars where he properly belonged. Not until that girl was back with her family, whoever and wherever they were. Longarm was jolly well adamant on that subject.
Chapter 29
“I don’t know what the sonuvabitch’s proper name is. George something-or-other.” Longarm described the loudmouth, and the clerk manning the Jennison Arms desk nodded.
“That would be Mr. Mabry,” the fellow said, “from, if I remember correctly, Ohio. A salesman, I believe.”
“Do you happen to know if Mr. Mabry is in?” Longarm asked.
“Oh, yes. I’m quite sure that he is.”
“Room number?” Longarm got his directions and took the stairs two at a time to get there. Cocksucker, he was thinking. Try to commit murder, burn down maybe half a town, and now here he was lollygagging in his hotel room like there was nary a thing to be concerned with in the whole damn world. Well, it was time good old George commenced to concern himself with a few things.
Longarm found the room all right, and stopped outside it. No sense taking chances, he decided. George had proved more slippery than Longarm realized back in that barn a little while ago. Longarm didn’t want him sneaking out the window, and there was no one Longarm could count on to cover that escape route. Whatever was done here, Longarm was going to have to do it all. Well, so be it.
He drew his Colt and held it ready. He took a deep breath and set himself for a surprise entrance. Then he reared back and kicked the door. Hard. The sole of his boot landed smack beside the knob and the area where the bolt would be placed.
Wood splintered and flew, and the door burst open with a crash.
Longarm, gun leveled and ready to fire, followed the broken door into the room, taking a whack on his shoulder as the door hit the inside wall and rebounded on its hinges. Longarm did not so much as notice.
“Federal officer! Don’t move!” he barked.
He needn’t have bothered. No one inside seemed inclined to go anywhere.
There were two beds in the cheap room. Each of them was occupied. George Mabry lay in one, bedclothes tucked up high under his chin. His smaller partner, the man who seemed to accompany him most everywhere Mabry went, lay in the other. Both men were in nightshirts. Each appeared to be flushed with high fevers.
“Jesus Christ. You again,” Mabry moaned. “What do you want this time?”
“You, asshole. You’re under arrest for arson.”
“You’re kidding me. Aren’t you? No, I see that you are not. I haven’t done anything. I swear I haven’t. Tony? Tell him Tony. Tell him I haven’t … arson, you say? Why would I do that? Where?”
“You know damn good and well what you did and why.”
“Would you tell me when I’m supposed to have burned whatever you say I burned, Long?”
“You admit that you know who I am now.”
“Of course I do. I asked about you yesterday after that incident in the saloon. You embarrassed me. As soon as I’m able to go out again, let me tell you, I intend to file a complaint with your employer.”
“I’ll write down his name and address for you. But in the meantime, Mabry, you’re under arrest for arson. I might want to add attempted murder to that later on. And probably assault on a federal officer.” Mabry groaned.
“Get up. I’m taking you to jail, Harry. And believe me, it will be a pleasure.”
“I can’t get up. Jesus. Leave me be, will you?”
“Tough shit. Now get outa that bed and turn around so I can put some cuffs on you.”
“Look, dammit, I’m sick. I’ve been up and down all night and all morning with fever and diarrhea. I feel like I’m going to die. Every muscle and joint I have is aching. Come back and arrest me tomorrow if you like. I’m not going anywhere. No one is. Not until this storm lets up.”
“Marshal,” the other man said.
“Yes?”
“George and me both have been sick all through the night. If you think he did anything, or me either, from about ten o’clock last night on, check with the people here in the hotel. They’ve had to change our chamber pots every hour or so all through the night and all this morning. Neither one of us has been able to hold any food down. I don’t know what we got, tainted food or whatever, but it’s got the both of us down. Don’t take my word for that. Ask them down at the desk. They know we’ve been here right along.”
“Since ten last night?” Longarm asked. “Neither one of you was out this morning?”
“Neither one of us has been able to sit up, much less stand on his own two feet. Not since last night. Ask them. Ask the boy. Jimmy, is it? He’s been doing for us since early this morning when he came around with the hot water. Ask him.”
“Don’t think I won’t,” Longarm said.
“Listen, I hope you will. Really. George does too. And Marshal.”
“Yes?”
“Don’t judge George too harshly. He blusters and carries on sometimes, but he’s really a good fellow. Honestly.”
Longarm scowled. But he put his gun away. There was no doubt that both men in this room were sick. He could see it. For that matter, he could smell it. The interior of the room had that dank, sour stench of puke and fever. And no one, not the finest actor, could likely fake the flushed and sweaty look that George had on his ugly face.
But if both these men really hadn’t left their room today—which Longarm would damn well check with Jim Jennison Junior and the other employees of the hotel—then who the hell had been shooting at Longarm lately? And why?
He turned and rather reluctantly retreated through the shattered door.
Dammit, he grumbled to himself. He wondered if he could slip the damages for that door past Billy Vail’s clerk Henry when Longarm made out his expense voucher for this trip.
Chapter 30
For a change the telegraph operator was in and available for business. Longarm wrote out his messages and sent them, billing the charges to the United States Department of Justice.
Then once again he went shivering back into the teeth of the storm.
By now it was much too late to meet the barber/ undertaker at Darby Travis’s cabin, so Longarm looked for him at the barbershop as before.
The door was unlocked, although there was no sign of life in the shop. Once inside, however, Longarm could hear sounds of someone stirring around in a back room.
“Hello. Is anybody here?”
The barber came out, his shirt sleeves rolled to his elbows and a smile on his face. The shirt cuffs stayed where they were, but when he saw who the visitor was, his expression fell on the double quick. “Oh. It’s you.”
“Sorry, but someone tried to shoot me on my way to meet you.” Longarm shrugged. “It’s what you might call an occupational hazard.”
“Did you hear the livery burned down?”
“Yeah, I did.”
“Someone really shot at you?”
“Is your concern professional? Or personal?”
The barber grinned just a little. “So maybe business hasn’t been all that great lately.”
“I’ll let you give me a haircut if it will help out, but I draw the line at volunteering for your other services.”
The barber’s grin got bigger. “Speaking of which, and no help from you, I might add, I got the girl loaded onto the sled and brought her back. I was starting to work on her just now.”