Longarm took a grim satisfaction in noting the man’s concern. From the looks of the man, Longarm doubted he would last very much longer.
Five minutes passed, then ten, then fifteen. Suddenly, Asher walked straight across the room to the door and yelled out something in Spanish. Longarm spoke enough to know that Asher had just told someone to saddle his horse. Longarm wished him luck.
Longarm stayed behind the house, at the corner of where Asher had to come out if he were going to where they kept the horses. Most likely, though, he would exit through the front door and they would bring his horse around. Longarm knew that he could slip around to the east side of the house and confront Asher as he started to ride off, but there would be very little pleasure in that. Not the kind of pleasure Longarm was looking to have with a man like Asher Nelson. He wasn’t sure, but he was pretty certain that he had never felt such personal hatred for anyone as he did for Asher and his brothers. Of course, he no longer despised and was disgusted by the brothers. They were past that. Now all his hatred and disgust were concentrated on this spoiled, selfish, self-willed, cruel, arrogant sonofabitch who called himself Asher Nelson and who thought, because he had found some yellow metal, he could do anything he liked. He was a man who made himself the law. Well, if Longarm could do anything about it, he wouldn’t be the law much longer.
He saw Asher come back into the room, now wearing a khaki coat, go to the gun rack, and select a high-powered rifle with a scope mounted on its long barrel. He was going to break every part of the deal that he had supposedly made.
After that, Longarm watched him walk across the room and then down the hall and through the front door. Longarm waited a moment, hesitating at the southeast corner of the building, waiting to see if Asher did indeed ride off to the east.
Five minutes passed, and then Asher Nelson came riding into the beginning day on a good-looking, chunky bay horse. He already had the telescope of the rifle up to his eye, studying the country up ahead. Longarm watched him and let him go a half mile, then three quarters of a mile, before he turned and went around the house to the side where he knew the kitchen, the dining room, and the servants’ entrance was. He caught Manuel just as he was about to come out of the house through a side door. Longarm grabbed him around the neck without a word and put the revolver up to his head. The Mexican made no sign other than to have his eyes get big. Longarm said, “No speak. No speak. Comprende?”
The Mexican nodded, and then Longarm pulled the door back open and shoved him through.
Longarm said to Manuel, “Now, you do what I tell you, understand?”
The Mexican nodded. “Si, senor.”
They were in a kind of hall that seemed to connect the kitchen and the dining room. Longarm said, “Donde esta mi pistols? Tambien mi badge?” He patted his chest.
The little Mexican looked blank for a moment, and then led the way down the hall to the left and down another hall. There was another door there, and he opened it with a key. It looked to be an office. There on the desk was Longarm’s gunbelt along with both of his revolvers and his derringer. His badge wasn’t there, however. It made him angry. It made him think that Asher Nelson might have already hung the badge on the mounting plate in his trophy room.
He put his gunbelt on and slipped the derringer in place. He unloaded the revolver he’d taken from Frank Nelson and flung it and the shotgun onto the desk. He didn’t need anything other than his own weapons. He put his spare revolver inside his belt, and then directed the little Mexican to take him into the trophy room. They went down another hall and then down some stairs, and sure enough, there, inside the trophy room was his badge. It hadn’t been placed on the plaque, but was lying on a table nearby. Longarm snatched it up, furious that it should be in such a place, and pinned it on his chest.
He turned to the Mexican and said, “Now, the other senor. The other policia.”
Manuel nodded his head and leading the way, took Longarm to the door that he had seen shut on the young marshal.
Manuel took out his ring of keys, opened the door, and swung it wide. Longarm stood there. Blinking, shading his eyes with his hands, Ross Henderson sat up slowly from the bed he had been lying on. He said, “Who … who … who’s there?”
Longarm said, “It’s all right, son. You’re all right now. You’re back in the business of being a United States deputy marshal.”
Chapter 9
Longarm couldn’t get Ross Henderson to talk. He didn’t act dazed or confused or drugged, but he just kept his head down and mumbled the answers to the various questions Longarm asked him. No, they hadn’t hurt him. Yes, it had been kind of tight in that room. Yes, he was glad to see daylight again. No, they didn’t threaten him. Yes, they had asked him about Longarm. No, he hadn’t told them any more than they already knew.
Longarm couldn’t figure it out. He figured that four days in a closed room was not a whole lot of fun, but it was over now and he kept expecting the young man to come back full of piss and vinegar, yearning to get his hands on Asher Nelson.
Longarm told him over a breakfast of steak and eggs how the play had gone, what he had done to Frank and Claude. Ross Henderson nodded very politely and thoughtfully, and said, “Yes, sir. Yes, sir,” to every point Longarm made.
Henderson understood that Asher was still out there and that they had better start getting ready for his return. He mouthed the words, but there was nothing behind them. Even when Longarm sent Manuel to find Henderson’s gunbelt and badge, it didn’t help any. Henderson put the gunbelt on and pinned on the badge, but he was still mumbling and kept his head down, looking like a shy schoolboy at a big dance. Longarm had never known him very well, but he knew damned good and well that nobody who acted like that was going to get far in the Marshal Service.
Finally, Longarm asked him point-blank, “Ross, do you feel like you fouled up? Do you feel like you got me in the trouble I got in? Is that it?
Do you feel like you made a mistake when you sent that telegram?”
Henderson was sitting down at the end of the table looking down at his plate. He shook his head and mumbled something like, “No, sir.”
“Then what the hell is the matter with you?”
“Nothing.”
“Hell, boy. The only way I can tell that you’re alive is that you occasionally blink. You ought to be as mad as hell.”
“Yes, sir.”
Longarm said, “Listen, we’ve got to get ready. It’s going on for eight o’clock. Asher is not going to look long for his brothers, and he’ll be headed back this way. You get ready. Understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I want you to watch out the south side of the house. Understand? I’m going to watch out to the east.”
“Yes, sir.”
But what really scared Longarm was when Longarm said, “Would you like me to put you back in that room?” He was half kidding. Ross Henderson said, “Yes, sir. I wouldn’t mind.”