With his mules standing at the back of the stage he got carefully out of the bathtub. It was going to be a very tricky moment or two. His legs were a little rubbery from sitting on them so long, but they were just going to have to work for a while longer. He walked carefully beside the near leader, holding the reins, pulling them along the mule’s backs, hoping like hell he wouldn’t strike a sensitive spot. Finally, moving carefully, he reached the left rear wheel of the stage. The mules were looking walleyed and switching their ears back and forth. He could see the restlessness building in them. As gently as he could he ran the four reins around one of the canopy posts, and quickly tied them off in one big, hard knot. Only then did he take a breath. The mules could kick and squawl, but unless they could pull the wagon and ten other mules, one of them being dead, they weren’t going anywhere.
He looked out toward where the doctor and Rita were. The doctor waved, but Rita had sat down. He noticed she was wearing the skirt and blouse she’d worn the day before. It was funny but he hadn’t noticed anything about her when they’d first left the stage station. The doctor called, “What now, Marshal? This sun is quite hot.”
Longarm said, “Stay where you are. I’ll let you know when I’m ready for you.”
He walked around to the front of the stage and looked at the mess. The first thing to do was clear the dead mule out of the way. He got out his big clasp knife, stepped in among the harness, and carefully cut the straps that appeared to apply to the near leader. When he was through, the whole mess seemed to have miraculously straightened itself out. The harness was straight and in place. The only problem was that he had reins coming from the off leader, but none from the near leader, because the mule in that position was now one row back. It became clear he would have to take the other mule out of the lead span and rig the next two as leaders. It took him a quarter of an hour, working with his eye and his knife, to finally end up with an eight-mule team and reins running from the two new leaders. The extra mule he simply turned loose. After that he walked toward the end of the stage and waved at the doctor and Rita. “All right. Come on in. Get a move on, I ain’t got much time.”
While they were trudging toward him, he went quickly to where the doctor had put down the weapons and Rita’s purse. He picked up the lot and loaded them in the bathtub, taking time to open Rita’s purse and see that his derringer was indeed inside. He took up his gunbelt and strapped it on, and then rammed his Colt revolver home in the holster. It felt good, it felt right, it felt complete again. He took the derringer and broke it open. One cartridge had been fired. He reckoned that was the little wink he’d seen from the darkness of the interior of the stage when he’d been traveling right behind them. Fortunately the shot had missed, but that would have been something if the shot had gone home into one of his mules and pulled him up dead in the ground. Stopped by a woman firing his own derringer!
He closed the derringer and slipped it under the clip in his big buckle. He had spare ammunition for it, but it was in his saddlebags and they were still on top of the stage. Meanwhile he had more important business to attend to. He took the bottle of whiskey out of the tub and set it inside the stage as the doctor and Rita came up. He said, “Hold up. I want to make sure you ain’t carrying anything besides bad intentions.”
He searched them both very thoroughly, even making Rita raise up her dress so he could feel about in her underwear for any concealed weapons. All during the search she kept up a steady stream of abuse, to which he paid not the slightest bit of attention. When he was satisfied they were clean, he motioned toward the coach.
“All right. Get on in there. It’s time we had a little conversation.”
The doctor went to the back and sat in the right rear corner. Rita sat a little down from him toward the rear. Longarm sat almost where he had before they’d put him off. He had the bottle of whiskey between his feet, and he took it up and pulled the cork home and had a long swallow. When he was through, he rammed the cork and set the bottle on the bench beside him. He made no offer of a drink to the others. “Now then,” he said, talking to both of them, “let’s get down to the business at hand. I’m going to want to know who is waiting at that relay station and just who they are and what kind of gunhands they will be. I’m going to want to know what they are expecting to show up and when. Now I need this information and I intend to get it. I don’t have a lot of time, so you can expect me to be pretty quick at getting down to ways to make you tell me what I want to know. I also want to know if ya’ll intend to cooperate at all. I don’t have to tell you it will make it easier on you if you do. But just remember, I have already got this particular business figured out and you can’t save this scheme. It’s already finished. And I will have Carl Lowe back in prison. You can depend on that. Now who wants to start talking first?”
He glanced at the doctor and then he glanced at Rita. Neither said anything. Rita was staring out at the desert; the doctor had a pleasant smile on his face. As Longarm looked at him directly, the doctor smiled broadly and said, “Looks like it is going to be a particularly beautiful sunset.”
Longarm nodded. “All right, if that is the way you’ll have it.” He looked from Rita to the doctor and back to Rita. To the doctor he said, pointing at Rita, “Now I already know she is about as tough as a hoe handle, so I can’t afford to waste a lot of time on her. But Doc, I got you figured for a man with lace on his underwear. I figure you’ll tell me what I need to know the quickest. You just get up and make your way down to this end of the coach, and me and you will get outside where I’ll have more room to work. Don’t make me come get you. That would just embarrass you worse. So get up and come along.”
The doctor nodded. “As you say.” He stood up, and was starting to walk toward the end of the coach when Rita suddenly put up her hand as if to shove him back. She said to Longarm, “Wait!”
Longarm was about to stand. He eased back on the bench. The doctor had been walking forward, stooping a little under the canvas top. Longarm realized again that the man seemed to get bigger each time he saw him. He looked at Rita. “You got something to say?”
She was talking to Longarm, but she looked at the doctor. She said, “You got it all wrong. You could pull off his fingers one by one and he’d never do anything but smile. You don’t know who you are dealing with here.”
The doctor said, “Rita, please, dear. Don’t talk anymore.”
She said to the doctor, “Anson, I have to. I couldn’t stand to see you hurt.” She turned to Longarm with almost a triumphant air. “You are wrong, Mr. Marshal Longarm. This man is tougher than you are. He can stand anything. You could roast him over a fire and he’d never tell you anything.” Her voice broke just perceptibly. “But I couldn’t take it. I wouldn’t be able to stand to see him hurt.”
“All right,” Longarm said. “I don’t care how I get it. Sit down, Doc. The lady will do the talking.”
Rita said proudly, “He’s not a doctor. He’s an actor. One of the finest actors in the country.”
Longarm glanced back and forth between them. “Yeah? Who does he act with, John Wilkes Booth?”
She flared up. “You make jokes! You don’t understand what a great man he is. He had one of the finest acting troupes in California. He was the toast of San Francisco. I should know. I’ve been with him for five years.”
Longarm said, “He’s such a great actor, how come he took up stage-robbing? Wasn’t drawing much at the gate?”
“He’s a genius!” she said proudly. “His mind is restless. He has to be constantly challenging himself. Look at what he did back at the relay station. For three days he played the part of a drunken, shriveled-up, ruined man. He looked small, he acted small. And yet he is physically the strongest man I’ve ever known.”