The doctor showed a fine set of teeth in a smile. “I’m a very resourceful man, Marshal. You’d be surprised at what I can do if I have to. For that matter I have no desire to shoot a federal marshal. Having the federal service hot after me is nothing I care to add to my troubles. But I am a man with serious business to tend to and you are in the way. I command you one last time to take your revolver out of the holster and throw it overboard.”
Longarm calculated his chances. They didn’t look good. The hand that was holding the pistol was steady as a rock, and the doctor looked like a man very willing and capable of pulling a trigger and shooting another man. He glanced again at Rita Ann, surprised she had been so quiet. He thought of the one brief moment of contact they had had that day. It hadn’t told him much about her feelings. Not too long before the stage arrived he had gone into the kitchen looking for Mrs. Higgins. She hadn’t been there, but Rita Ann had come in immediately and hugged him around the waist. She’d kissed him and put her hand down inside his waistband so that he’d thought they were going to have a repeat of their previous kitchen scene. But she’d just kissed him again and left as quickly as she’d come. She was, he’d decided, a very strange woman.
The doctor said, “Marshal, nothing you can think to do is going to help. Meanwhile you are getting further and further from the relay station. It will be a long, hot walk as it is. The longer you delay…” The doctor shrugged. “You could die without water.”
Longarm nodded. It made sense. Without moving he reached carefully to his side and pulled out his revolver as he had been instructed. He held it in the air, dangling from his thumb and forefinger. “Now what?”
The doctor nodded. “Throw it out the opening to your side.”
Longarm did as he was told, but it hurt him to see a fine instrument like his revolver thrown into the sand. But now he had to begin working a plan. There was his derringer in his gunbelt buckle, and he had to get the doctor to relax and point his gun somewhere else long enough to get it out and perhaps shoot the man.
But the doctor had further instructions. He said, “Now the Winchester under your seat. Just lean down, pick it up by the barrel, and pitch it out the back over the tailgate. Do it in one motion.”
“Why?”
“Let’s just say it makes me nervous to have surplus weapons about. I’d hurry. I would guess we’ve come at least two miles from the relay station, if not farther. Now the Winchester.”
Longarm shrugged. He sat up straight on the bench and bent low, and with his right hand grasped his carbine by the barrel. For an instant he thought about plunging to the floor and trying for one quick shot, but he quickly dismissed the thought. It hadn’t come to that kind of desperate measure yet. The derringer was still his best bet. But he needed to get the doctor talking, get him distracted. He flung the rifle in one smooth motion out the back of the coach, sailing it over the tailgate. He saw it hit in the sandy dirt and bounce and roll and finally stop. It was going to take him forever to get it cleaned up.
He turned back to the doctor and leaned back as if settling in for a long ride. But the doctor said, “You go next, Marshal. I’m fairly certain that I have rendered you harmless. There is no way for you to chase us from the relay station. I’ve made certain of that. So I think we can do without your company.”
But Longarm didn’t move. He had dropped his right hand casually into his lap and was working it slowly up toward the top of his buckle. He said, “Doc, one thing I don’t understand. The lenses in your glasses look different. How come?”
The doctor smiled slightly. “Oh, that is probably because I’m careless and because I only wear glasses as a sort of disguise. You’d be surprised at the number of people who only remember you as a man wearing glasses. When they see you later without glasses they don’t recognize you. These are plain glass. No more magnification than a window glass. But that has nothing to do with the issue at hand. If you don’t mind I’d like you to make your way to the end of the coach and slip quietly over the tailgate. At the speed we’re making it should be quite safe. As I say, I have no wish to harm you, Marshal, but you are interfering with my business. And I’d remind you, if you call out to the driver, you will surely cause his death. Do I make myself clear?”
Longarm had gotten his thumb inside his belt buckle and was frantically searching for his derringer. He thought it might have escaped from its clip and fallen down, but he couldn’t feel anything.
Rita Ann said distinctly, “Lose something?”
Startled, he turned his head and glanced her way. “What?”
She reached in her bag and came out holding his derringer. “Looking for this?”
He stared. “Son of a bitch,” he said slowly. He shook his head. “You sure as hell took me in. I’ll be … go to hell.”
The doctor laughed quietly. He said, “Gulled by a woman. Is there anything that is a worse blow to the male pride? Oh, me. I wish you could see the expression on your face, sir. It is a sight. Yessir, it is a sight.” The doctor laughed again. “Oh, I know the feeling, sir, and I sympathize with you. But better you than me, I say.”
Longarm looked at Rita Ann, sitting serenely with the derringer dangling from her hand. He said, “Well, the laugh is on me. You sure took me in all right. I didn’t think you were a whore and you turned out to be one after all. I guess I didn’t know there were different kinds.” He nodded toward the doctor. “This the gambler who left you high and dry in Phoenix, Rita Ann?”
“You can drop the Ann,” she said. “I only use that on the rubes.”
“Aaah,” Longarm said. “There’s more and more to you every time I look. Now I’m a rube. Well, I reckon I’d rather be a rube than what you are.”
A little edge came to her voice. “Save the sermons for somebody who gives a damn, Mr. Long. Talk about acting. You make me laugh. A rich businessman. You gave yourself away so bad in that fight that it was downright stupid.”
The doctor said, “Now, now, Rita. No use being unkind. The marshal is like us, only doing his job.”
She said, “It burns me up somebody tries to play me for a fool.” She gave Longarm a hard look. “Poor little girl in her mousy dress. Get her fixed up and feel like a big man.” She made a motion with the derringer. “Go on. Get the hell out of here while you are still in one piece. I ain’t as charitable as Doc. I’d like to put a couple of holes in you.”
Longarm turned away from her. He said to Peabody, “What’s your game, Doc? You ain’t planning on robbing this stage, are you? I ain’t familiar with this particular line, but I hear they got a pretty good record of foiling robberies.”
The doctor gave him a slight smile. “Marshal, I’m sure you will forgive me if I choose not to discuss my business with a federal officer. I’m sure you can understand that.” He motioned with the revolver. “You have already caused us a little inconvenience and I think it is time you took your leave. Just slip quietly over the tailgate.
Longarm looked at him. He shifted his weight on the seat, putting it forward on the balls of his feet. “Doc, I don’t think you will shoot me. I’ve stayed alive just on these kind of decisions and I don’t think you’ll pull that trigger. Like you said, killing a federal officer is a losing game.”
From the head of the coach Rita said, coolly, “He may not, but I will.”
As he turned his head and looked at her, she pulled back the hammers of the two-shot derringer. He knew they were a hard pull, and he was surprised at the strength in her thumb. She said, “You got about five seconds.”
The doctor said, “Marshal Long, you will be endangering the guard and the driver.” There was an urgency in his voice. “I cannot always control her. I advise you to go and go quickly.”
Longarm looked at the doctor, and then he looked at Rita. He got slowly to his feet, nodding his head. He said quietly, “All right. I’ll get off here.”