As the man turned, Longarm balled his left fist and drew it back. As the sheriff came face to face with him, Longarm hit him as hard as he could with his left hand, driving forward off the balls of his feet, putting the whole weight of his shoulders behind the punch. The sheriff’s head was hard, but Longarm could feel the bone bend and the man’s skin break under his knuckles. It hurt his hands. He hadn’t hit him with his right hand for fear that he might damage the hand that he used with good effect in gunplay. Longarm followed through on the punch, letting it carry him forward. The sheriff’s eyes had rolled back into his head and his mouth had snapped open. He went straight backwards, hit the wall, and then slumped down on the couch.
Longarm never paused. Very briskly, he leaned down, grabbed the sheriff by the shoulders, and then slammed him back against the wall. The sheriff’s head was lolling on his shoulders, but he was not unconscious. Deliberately, Longarm stepped back, lifted his right leg, and rammed his boot straight into the ribs on the sheriff’s left side. He felt the bone crunch. The sheriff gave a gasp and seemed to almost lift up off the bed. He grabbed his side, moaning. Blood was already trickling down from the cut on his cheekbone where Longarm’s punch had landed. Now he was gasping for air with his bruised and broken ribs.
Longarm said, “I ain’t wasting no more punches on your damned hard head, but I reckon you’re liable to not appreciate it in your ribs.” He jerked the sheriff’s hands away from his body and then began to slam him, first with a right and then a left and another right into the ribs, hard, heavy, thudding blows. The sheriff moaned, and then screamed in agony as one particular blow caught the broken ends of two ribs, driving them into flesh. He began to blubber, to sob and claw at Longarm’s arms. Longarm stepped back and caught him with a hard blow on the chin so that the sheriff’s chin snapped back against the wall.
Longarm said, “Don’t interfere with me, boy. I’m softening you up.”
The sheriff said, “For God’s sake, stop! Stop, man, stop! You’re killing me.”
Longarm stepped back and stood there, breathing hard, staring at the man. He said, “Now, is your memory getting any better or do you want those ribs beat up on some more?”
The sheriff had his head tilted back in agony. His eyes were slitted and his mouth was working. He was holding his right side. He said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. What are you doing here? Are you crazy?”
Longarm said briskly, “Have it your own way.” He jerked the sheriff’s hands out of the way and again began the workmanlike business of slamming the sheriff in the ribs with hard, driving, sledgehammer blows. His big hands brought a whoosh out of the sheriff’s lungs with each pounding blow. Now the sheriff was trying to ward him off and trying to stand up. Longarm hit him in the throat with the flat of his hand and knocked him back down.
The sheriff said, “Wait! Wait! I’ll talk to you! Wait a minute!” The blow to his throat had made his voice hoarse and guttural. He said, “I’ll talk to you.”
Longarm stepped back and waited.
The sheriff said, “Water, give me some water, please. I can’t talk. You’ve done ruined my Adam’s apple.”
“There ain’t no water in here and I don’t have time to get any,” Longarm said. “Now, you tell me about Ross Henderson. He was here, wasn’t he?”
The sheriff nodded with a slight but perceptible move of his head.
Longarm said, “Well, was he here or wasn’t he? I want to hear you say it.”
The sheriff said, “Yes, he was here. He was talking to my deputy.”
“Now don’t go telling me he only talked to your deputy. You talked to him also.”
The sheriff had one hand up, massaging his throat. “Why don’t you tell me what business this is of yours and I can help you. Maybe.”
Longarm said, “You’re going to be the only one doing the telling around here. Now, you talked to him, didn’t you. Because the telegrapher came down and told you that he had sent a telegram in which Henderson warned someone about the law here and about the sheriff and the town marshal. Isn’t that true?”
The information made the sheriff glance up suspiciously. He said, “How did you know that?”
Longarm said, lying, “Because I beat it out of the telegrapher. That’s how I know and that’s how I know all about you. Now, do you want to take some more punishment or do you want to start talking straight this time?”
The sheriff seemed to collapse. He seemed to be giving up the will to struggle. Hanging his head, he said, “Yeah, that deputy marshal came in here. You could tell he didn’t know which end of the dog the tail was on. I figured out who he was. He wanted to know about the Nelsons. Well, I figured the best way for him to find out the Nelsons was for him to go meet them.”
Longarm said, “You sent him out to the Nelsons?”
The sheriff looked up. “Yeah, that’s who he was asking for.”
Longarm pointed toward the general direction of the front office. He said, “You got a wanted poster on a United States deputy marshal right out there in your office that is supposed to be from the Nelsons. Ain’t that a fact?”
The sheriff nodded slowly, but winced as he did so. He put his hand to his throat. “Yeah, I know it. Hell, I thought maybe that deputy was that one on the poster.”
Longarm cocked his head. He said, “Why, you dirty sonofabitch. You’re supposed to be a lawman and you sent another lawman to where he might get killed? What the hell kind of low-down no-good snake are you?”
The sheriff looked up defiantly. “Listen, this is my damned county and I’ll run it to suit myself.”
Longarm shook his head. He reached over, took hold of the badge that was on the sheriff’s shirt, and ripped it loose. He said, “No, you ain’t the sheriff no more.”
The sheriff looked startled. “What gives you the right to be doing that?”
Longarm reached up and unbuttoned the pocket of his shirt, taking out his badge. He said, “This does. I’m also a United States deputy marshal and I’m holding you for malfeasance in office, you sonofabitch. You’re in this cell and you’re going to stay in this cell. Anybody who lets you out is going to join you in this cell or they are going to get dead, just as you are going to get dead if you come out of here. Do you understand that, you bastard?”
The sheriff made as if to half rise. He said, “You can’t do this.”
Longarm raised his boot and kicked the sheriff square in the chest. Another whoosh of air came out of his lungs.
Longarm said, “Now you get the straight, Nevins. You’re through. You are dead through.”
The sheriff tried to croak. In a small voice, almost a whisper, he said, “The people of this county elected me sheriff. You can’t take my badge.”
“You can’t be sheriff and be in jail at the same time. I’ve arrested you for malfeasance while in office. Here you sit. Now, how long ago did you send young Henderson out to the Nelsons?”
The sheriff shook his head weakly. “I don’t know, you’ve got my head ringing. A couple of days ago. I can’t hardly think. Maybe it was the first day he was here or maybe it was the second day he was here. I don’t remember which.”
“Did you warn him about that poster?”
“I don’t know what that poster means.”
“You sonofabitch. You’re lying.”
“No, I ain’t,” the sheriff said. He looked completely whipped and down. “Listen, mister. I’ve done told you all I know. The Nelsons are rich folks who get their way. If they tell me to do something, I do it.”
“Are they serious with that poster?”
The sheriff said, his words halting, “Damned if I know. They don’t tell me nothing.”
“Well, you better remember this. I’m the one on that poster they want. They’re fixing to get another deputy, and if anything has happened to him, I’m going to come back here and beat you to death. Understand?”