Longarm turned blazing eyes on him. He couldn’t speak, but his eyes said a lot.
Higgins nodded his head. “Yessir! I’m a-goin’! An’ right now!”
He put his head down as Higgins, surprisingly agile, raced on ahead. When he looked up after twenty strides the man was out of sight. But by now he could distinctly see the shade cast by the porch roof. It was the most inviting sight he thought he’d ever seen. He kept running. It was odd, but even though he’d given his carbine to Higgins, he could still feel the weight of the weapon in his hand and arm and shoulder. He kept running, starting now to stagger more than just a little. Sometimes he had trouble finding and following the coach track. The whole world seemed to be going gray.
And then he suddenly felt cool. He blinked and looked up. He had run under the porch and was about to run into the wall of the station. He stopped. At least he stopped moving his legs, though they felt as if they were still in motion. The door to the station was just a few feet to his left. With the last of his strength he took the few strides to it and then turned into the incredibly dim and cool interior of the station. Higgins was coming toward him holding out a quart jar full of what looked to be water colored with a little whiskey. Longarm made it as far as the bench by the front door and then he collapsed. Higgins said in alarm, “My laws, Marshal, I believe you have overdone yoreself.”
When he could he gasped out the main elements of what had happened. Mrs. Higgins stood alongside her husband looking very upset and concerned. Her only reaction was to say, “Oh, not Rita Ann! Not that sweet girl! Oh, no, I can’t believe it!”
He drank down the first jar of water and whiskey very carefully, taking it in small sips, forcing himself to take it slow when his whole body was screaming out for him to dump the precious stuff down his throat. But he persevered. It took him perhaps five minutes. Then Higgins brought him another jar with a little more whiskey, He sipped at it slowly while he tried to tell them as much as he could. The water and whiskey were helping, but he could tell just how done in his body was. He hurt all over, and he knew it would only get worse. But all that didn’t matter. Right then time was the most important factor. When he had told Higgins about the plan to rob the stage, the stationkeeper wanted to run to telegraph the news to his company. When Longarm said the wires had been cut, Higgins insisted on going in and trying his key. It didn’t matter, since Longarm was going to need at least half an hour to recover. He gave his rifle to Mrs. Higgins and told her she needed to eject the cartridges and clean the sand off whatever she could. Then Higgins came back looking glum. He said, “Yep. You be right. Wires is cut both north and south. My key is as dead as a doornail. What the hell we gonna do, Marshal?”
Longarm’s breathing was almost back to normal. Mrs. Higgins brought him some cooking grease and he greased his feet and put his boots back on. But they were a snug fit, and he took them off again. His feet had swelled and his socks, even worn out as they were, were too thick. Mrs. Higgins brought him a pair of her husband’s thin white cotton socks. He put them on and then his boots fit better.
He said to both of them, “Look, I don’t have much time. Mrs. Higgins, you see to my guns and fix me something easy to eat. Stir up some eggs in some milk with some sugar. That ought to work. Half a dozen eggs in a quart of milk. Mister Higgins, you’ve got to go out and get your Mexicans to harness the most reliable span of mules you’ve got. The easiest to handle.”
Higgins scratched his head. “Wa’l, that be fine. I got just the mules, but we ain’t got no harness fer just the one span.”
Longarm stifled the urge to scream. He said calmly, “Mister Higgins, Herman, I ain’t got but a little time. You’ll have to cut some harness down to fit one span.”
“Cut company harness?”
Then Longarm couldn’t hold it in any longer. “Dammit, Herman, a bunch of robbers is fixing to steal how many thousands of dollars in gold from your company and you are talking to me about cutting up some damned harness!” He suddenly stopped and took a breath. Mrs. Higgins was coming in with his rifle. He said, “Look here, I’m sorry I yelled, but I ain’t got a lot of time or strength. I’m nearly done in. So you got to do what I tell you without explaining or arguing.”
Higgins said, “My stars, Marshal, I don’t know what went through my mind. Sylvie, I’m losing my reason. Course we can cut a harness down to fit a span of mules, but what you gonna hitch them up to?”
Longarm shook his head. “I don’t know. Some kind of sled. I thought about your little table, but I’m scared it would just dig in the dirt and flip over. I’ll think of something, Right now run out and get those Mexicans busy hooking me up a team.” As Higgins started out of the room, Longarm took the Winchester from Mrs. Higgins and ejected the cartridges by working the lever action. It hurt him to hear the gritty sound of the action as he worked the receiver chamber back and forth. But it made him think of something. He said to Higgins, “Herman, you ain’t got any forty-four-caliber shells by any chance, do you?”
Higgins stopped and nodded. “Happens I do. Got a fairly fresh box of ‘em. Got an old rifle myself, though the sights need straightening.”
“Don’t let me forget them,” Longarm said. Both his revolver and rifle fired .44 cartridges, but all his extra ammunition was in his saddlebags, which were on top of the stage. He said, “Hurry those Mexicans up. Every minute that stage is getting closer and closer to the next station.”
Mrs. Higgins had picked up the cartridges. She said, “I’ll clean these right up and do what I can for your guns. But hadn’t I better bring you your eggs and milk first?”
Longarm slumped back on the bench. “Yeah, I reckon. Faster I get it down the faster it will help me get some strength back. But what I’d like to do is get out back and pump a bucket of water and douse myself down. Don’t know if I got the strength, though.”
Mrs. Higgins said, “Why, I can do better than that. Why don’t you go in there and get in our Sears and Roebuck galvanized bathtub and turn on the tap from that pipe that runs up to the cistern on the roof. You can be resting and soaking the heat out of your poor body while you are at it. And you don’t even have to take your clothes off. Maybe yore boots. Wouldn’t want to get them wet. And I can bring you your milk and eggs right there and you can rest and soak and eat all the same time.”
“Sylvia,” he said, “that’s a damn good idea.” He heaved himself to his feet, doing it quickly to catch his body off guard. For a second he stood swaying, the room moving around him. He still had the sensation he was running. He stood a moment until he was certain he wasn’t going to fall, and then followed Mrs. Higgins through their private quarters and back to the curtained-off bathroom and its bathtub.
There was a little rubber plug in the bottom of the tub. Mrs. Higgins put it in place, saying that they just let the tub drain out on the floor and then the slope of the floor took it outside. She turned the tap and slightly brownish water began running into the tub. He sat on the edge and took his boots off, relishing the idea of cooling off his still-overheated body. The tub wasn’t all that deep, maybe two feet or a little more at its lowest point. But it curved up toward the other end to make a backrest where you could lean back and put your legs out straight and kind of soak the lower part of your body. But since the tub wasn’t much more than four feet long, he reckoned if you wanted to soak the upper half of yourself you’d have to slide down and kind of put your legs in the air. It wasn’t all that wide either, at least not down toward the bottom, and he wasn’t sure if his shoulders would fit in the bottom.