LONGARM AND THE DEAD MAN’S REWARD [066-066-5.0]
By Tabor Evans
Synopsis:
Longarm’s on a wanted poster! One deputy marshal has already vanished while investigating the poster. So, Longarm heads for Santa Rosa, New Mexico, to find the missing marshal—and some answers. But when Longarm meets the dirt-licking snakes who put out the poster, he discovers it was all a trap … that he fell for. Now they’re going to make Longarm play their twisted game—and he better think fast if he wants to make it out of Santa Rosa alive. 221st novel in the “Longarm” series, 1997.
Jove Books New York Copyright (C) 1997 by Jove Publications, Inc.
All rights reserved.
This book may not be reproduced in whole or in part, by mimeograph or any other means, without permission. For information address: The Berkley Publishing Group, 200 Madison Avenue, New York, New York 10016.
ISBN: 0-515-12069-3
Jove Books are published by The Berkley Publishing Group, 200 Madison Avenue, New York, New York 10016.
The Putnam Berkley World Wide Web site address is HTTP://WWW.BERKLEY.COM JOVE and the “J” design are trademarks belonging to Jove Publications, Inc.
A Jove Book published by arrangement with the author Printing history Jove edition May 1997
PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA If you purchased this book without a cover, you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the publisher, and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”
DON’T MISS THESE ALL-ACTION WESTERN SERIES FROM THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP
THE GUNSMITH by J. R. Roberts Clint Adams was a legend among lawmen, outlaws, and ladies. They called him … the Gunsmith.
LONGARM by Tabor Evans The popular long-running series about U.S. Deputy Marshal Long—his life, his loves, his fight for justice.
SLOCUM by Jake Logan Today’s longest-running action Western. John Slocum rides a deadly trail of hot blood and cold steel.
Chapter 1
They were sitting in Billy Vail’s office on the second floor of the Federal Building in Denver. The chief marshal was sitting behind his desk, and for once he was looking his age. His sparse, white hair looked even whiter and his small delicate face looked tired. Billy Vail had never been a particularly tall man, but then he had never had to be. The air of authority he carried had always been enough to do the job. But now, he looked perplexed and worried. “Custis, I can’t make heads or tails out of it,” he said. “It’s the damnedest thing I’ve ever heard of before.”
Sitting across from him, lounging back in a chair, was Deputy Marshal Custis Long, known to most as Longarm because of his reputation for always running down his man. It was said that you could go from one ocean to the other, or find a hole and dig as deep as you could, or get on top of the highest mountain around, and you might, for a while, feel safe. But sooner or later, Longarm was going to show up. That long arm of the law would stretch out and pluck you in.
But right now he didn’t look the invincible paragon of the Marshal Service. He too looked baffled and bewildered, the same as Billy Vail. He also looked tired. He’d just come off a tough job in the Oklahoma Territory, where he’d been chasing a band of cattle and horse thieves who had been preying on the trail drivers who came through the territory. He had only been back one day, and he’d barely had a good night’s sleep in the whole two weeks he’d been gone. His face said he might be a man of forty, but that didn’t take into account the weather and the storms and the danger and the worry. His body, which was about six feet tall and about 190 pounds of hard muscle, tendon, and bones, came closer to saying thirty. But whatever his age, it needed a rest.
He had a cheroot burning between his fingers, and he took a drag and blew the smoke out. He said, “Billy, that’s the damnedest thing I’ve ever heard too. Are you sure you got it right?”
Billy Vail shook his head slowly. “Can’t be no mistake, Custis. There’s a bunch in New Mexico putting out wanted posters on you and offering ten thousand dollars dead or alive.”
Longarm just stared at him for a moment. “Don’t they know they’ve got this all backwards? That you put out wanted posters on the outlaws? You don’t put out wanted posters on lawmen?”
Billy Vail laughed in spite of himself. “I know it sounds crazy, but I’ve had several telegrams about it and one of the posters is on the way by mail. I don’t know what to tell you.”
“Who did you say was behind this?”
“I don’t have all the details,” said Billy. “It’s a family called Nelson. Frank and Asher and Claude. They’re either three brothers, cousins, or some such, and there may be a few others involved in it to boot. I don’t know where they got their money. I don’t know much about them except they don’t have a criminal record. As far as we know, they’re not wanted for anything. But they are sending men around to nail up posters with your picture on them offering ten thousand dollars for your carcass, dead or alive. Now, what do you think of that?” Billy Vail sat back and stared at Longarm in wonderment.
Longarm said, “Well, with what you’ve told me, I don’t know what to think of it. Am I supposed to have put some of their family in prison or killed some of their kin or done them some big harm? What is it that has caused them to single me out?”
Billy Vail shook his head slowly again. “I don’t know. That’s the mystery of the deal. The telegrams and the word that I’ve had don’t give any explanation, just that there’s posters out on you and that you’re a wanted man.”
“And where is this coming out of in New Mexico?”
“The Nelsons apparently live in the town of Santa Rosa. That’s a middling-size place halfway between Albuquerque and Tucumcari, about in the middle part of the state, the desert part.”
Longarm nodded. “I know of it but I can’t say that I’ve done a hell of a lot of business around there. In fact, I can’t think of anybody I’ve ever run to ground in that area. Of course, New Mexico has often been a hunting ground of mine. Doesn’t matter where I jump somebody, seems like they head for New Mexico—either there or Oklahoma Territory or Texas. They always head for bad ground, bad country, and bad folks. I wish sometimes they’d head for places a man could enjoy. Why don’t they ever head for San Francisco?”
Billy Vail said, “Well, all I know is that you had better go down there and find out what this is all about. I can’t have folks putting out wanted posters on my deputy marshals.”
Longarm sighed. “Billy, I don’t want to go anywhere right now. I need about a week of whiskey and women and clean sheets and hot baths. This is just going to have to wait.”
Billy Vail shook his head again. “Custis, I wish I could say otherwise, but I think this has got to be looked into right away. I can’t have them going around putting a price on the head of lawmen. For all I know, you could walk out of this office and somebody could shoot you in the back, load you in a wagon, cart you to Santa Rosa, and claim the ten thousand dollars. Your life’s in danger every place you are, every second you’re walking around until we get this matter settled.”
Longarm sat up straighter in his chair, though he didn’t really feel like it. He said, “Billy, have you wired the sheriff down there? Or the town Marshal?”
Billy Vail gave him a disgusted look. “Of course I have. That was the first thought that came to my mind.”
“Well, what did they say?”
Billy grimaced. “Never got an answer, not a word. It’s been three days and I still haven’t heard one word.”
“You’ve been sitting on this for three days and you haven’t mentioned this to me?” Longarm said.
“In case you’ve forgotten, you just got back yesterday.”
Longarm nodded. “Well, that’s true. You wired them both?”