Asher Nelson nodded. “You have every reason to think that, Marshal, since we tricked you into coming here. But I assure you that, as sportsmen and as men of adventure, we will abide by the covenant of this adventure. We will keep our word to the letter.”
Longarm yawned. “It really doesn’t seem to make much difference, does it? I’ve got a pretty fair idea that I’m not going to care much what happens. I reckon it won’t be too long before I’ll be belly up with a high-powered slug through me.”
Asher shrugged. “I’ve told you what weapons we’ll carry. You can make your own choice about whether you choose to believe us or not.”
Longarm said, “What time is it getting to be? You’ve got my watch.”
Asher Nelson said, “It’s almost three.”
“Do I get my watch back? At least, I’d like to know how many hours I’ve gone and how many I have to go.”
“Of course,” Asher said. “Claude, give him his watch back.”
“How about my pocket knife?”
The men glanced at each other, and then Asher shook his head. He said, “No, nor that cunningly concealed little derringer of yours either. Just the machete, your pants, shirt, your hat, a pair of leather sandals, a canteen, and some food. What do you want in the way of food? Sliced beef and bread?
Cheese? I’d travel as light as I could, Marshal, but you will need some sustenance.”
Longarm said, “Then just beef and bread.”
It was a quick hour. At ten minutes until four, Longarm was standing in the doorway leading out onto the porch. A machete, shining and new, had been placed there for him. He was wearing the kind of thonged leather sandals that the workers around the place wore, and had on his own shirt, his own pants, his hat, and his watch. He also had a cloth sack, containing some beef and biscuits, with a string on it so he could carry it around his neck. They had given him a two-gallon canteen of water, but he had decided that it was too heavy, and he drank off a quart of it before slinging it over his shoulder. All three brothers were standing behind him in the hall. Asher had his watch out. He said, “We give you our word that we will seat ourselves, Marshal Long, so that we cannot see which direction you go.”
Longarm said, “That’s damned big of you, Asher. Seeing as there is damned little to choose from. This country’s flatter than my first girlfriend’s chest. Where is a man going to hide?”
Claude said, “Oh, it’s a good deal more cut up than you can imagine.”
Longarm had been going from window to window inside the house, looking out at the terrain. To the east, he had seen some buttes and some small rocky hills. There was very little to the south, though from the way the country lay, he thought there might be some ravines and some draws and some washouts. There was little to the West to recommend it, except some thickets of stunted post oak and some small pinyon pine.
They had not allowed him to go outside, so he had done his best by prowling, first the ground floor and then the second floor, looking out what windows he could. They had followed him, but had made no comment or recommendations. The whole time, they had stayed a respectable distance away from him, their guns at the ready. He knew that it would have been hopeless to try to jump any of them. His heart ached for the loneliness of the young man in the small room. He figured Ross Henderson was scared and confused and not at all certain of what his fate might be.
Asher Nelson said, “Are you about ready, Marshal? It’s three minutes until four.”
Longarm said, “It’s still pretty damned hot out there. Why don’t I leave at five and ya’ll not follow until eight.”
Asher Nelson laughed slightly. “Because it’s almost dark by eight o’clock, Marshal, and we would like to have a little daylight. You would grant us at least that extra hour of daylight to at least pick up your trail. It’s not going to be easy as it is, and we’ll be on foot too. Take that into account.”
Longarm looked around at him. He said, “And if you’re not on foot, what can I do about it? And if you’re carrying one of those high-powered rifles, what can I do about it? Nothing.”
Asher Nelson said, seriously, “Marshal, if we simply wanted to kill you, we would have already killed you. We want a contest. We want you to have every chance of winning this contest, but there’s no thrill in it for us if there’s no danger. We think you’re a very dangerous man even with that machete against three pistols. You must understand, we only care for you as a trophy if you are worthy.”
Longarm turned and looked at him. His eyes went hard. He said, “Yeah, a trophy. You lose my badge and you’re going to be a trophy. I’ll take your scalp.”
A couple of hours before, they had taken him down into the trophy room. There he had seen the heads of lions and tigers and various pronged and antlered animals mounted on the wall. He had identified the big black cattle with the funny horns that he’d seen out in the pasture as caped buffalo. He had walked slowly around the room until he had come to a walnut mounting that was empty. At the bottom had been a brass plaque that said: “United States Deputy Marshal Custis “Longarm’ Long.” His blood had run cold. He’d looked at the three brothers. They’d been smiling faintly.
He’d said, “You sonofabitches planning on cutting my head off and sticking it up there? Who’s going to do your taxidermy work for you? The undertaker?”
For answer, Asher Nelson had reached into his pocket and taken out the badge that they had taken from him that morning. Asher had said, “No, your badge will do.”
For the first time, the real, evil intent of the brothers had made its full impact on him. They were not only crazy, they were skillfully crazy, and they were rich on top of that.
Now, he stood at the door, ready to go, ready to pit himself against them. He said, “I mean it, Asher. Don’t lose that badge.”
Asher Nelson said, “The badge is what we will hang on your trophy mount—not your head, of course. I’m not going to lose that badge. If you win, it will be returned to YOU.”
Longarm said, “You are the three most bloodthirsty sonofabitches I’ve ever met and I’ve known some bad ones.”
“It’s four o’clock, Marshal. You’re on your own time now.”
Without another word, the three brothers turned and walked back toward the interior of the house.
Longarm went swiftly through the door, picked up the machete, went down the steps, and started west. Since there was nothing in that direction except some stunted trees, he thought he would give them the impression that he was headed in that direction.
He walked bent over below the level of the big windows on the north side of the house. He planned to lose himself amidst the maze of the small buildings and barns that lay to the west of the house. Here and there he could see a field worker or one of the vaqueros around the stock, but most of them had been disbursed from anywhere near the house on his insistence. As he walked, he glanced backwards to see if he could see a face in a door or a window.
He was walking over dusty ground now, having left the vicinity of the yard, and was making his way toward the first of the big barns. He wanted to use them to block any sight of him as he headed west. As he looked back, he noticed something peculiar about the tracks he was leaving in the dust. It wasn’t anything big, just a tiny difference that bothered him. He went on perhaps another ten yards, and was almost to the first of the big barns when he stopped and looked back again. He had just passed over a particularly smooth stretch of sandy dirt where his sandals had sunk in. He stood stock still and bent down and looked back. There was a tiny notch on the heel of his right sandal. As carefully as he could, balancing himself on his left foot, he lifted his leg up and turned his sandal sole up. There, very carefully and cleverly cut, he could see where someone had taken a small notch out of the part of the sandal just beneath his right heel. It was a dead giveaway. With all the sandal tracks around the ranch, his would have been hard to pick out had his sandals not been carefully marked. He smiled quietly to himself. These boys weren’t missing a trick, he thought.