“Then what did she do?”
“Miss Hathaway returned here and, as far as I know, she is recuperating with a friend over on Third Street.”
“With a lady friend?”
“Of course!” The clerk looked shocked by this question, but the hour was late and Longarm was in no frame of mind to be subtle.
“Who is this lady?”
“Her name is Ann Reed and she is a widow. Considerably older, I might add, but quite popular here in Wickenburg because of her good deeds and work-“
“How can I find them?” Longarm interrupted.
“Mrs. Reed lives in a small but comfortable brown and white painted Victorian. It’s on Third Street, just a block north and two blocks west.”
“Thanks.”
“Shame about Mr. Potter,” the clerk said as Longarm was about to go. “He was a fine, well-respected man in this part of Arizona. Very successful too. I’m sure that Miss Hathaway is deep in grieving.”
“I’m sure that she is,” Longarm replied.
“Oh, one other thing,” the clerk said. “It’s none of my business, but everyone knows that you and Preacher Dan went out hoping to discover that lost Spanish treasure. I don’t mean to pry, but-“
“Then don’t,” Longarm said coldly. “Just send up a couple of bottles of whiskey and a hot bath.”
The desk clerk blushed. “Sure, Marshal,” he snapped as he turned to holler for someone other than himself to start heating up the bath-water.
Longarm went back to check on Dan. The old prospector and preacher was pale and needed food and rest, but a little whiskey first might be just the tonic he required. Longarm figured he was in need of some whiskey too. It had been a rough damned week but not a bad one. They’d found the Spanish gold, put the mysterious disappearance of Jimmy Cox sadly to rest, and he’d killed five outlaws. Other than Hank Bass himself getting away, everything had gone extremely well and Longarm knew that he had no complaints coming.
There was a door connecting their two rooms, and Longarm left it open. It took nearly an hour for the bath to be drawn and his tub filled, but Longarm didn’t mind. He sipped whiskey and rested, then took his bath and felt like a new man. Tomorrow, he’d shave and get a badly needed haircut and fresh change of clothes after he figured out a way to get his government money sent from Prescott. Until then, he could sell the two extra horses and saddles and get by just fine.
Longarm fell asleep within seconds after he climbed into bed. He ached everywhere and couldn’t remember when he’d been any more beat and scratched up than he was now. But tomorrow everything was going to start getting better.
Much, much better.
Longarm awoke just before dawn hearing movement in Dan’s adjoining room. He heard whispered voices, then a boot bump into a table or chair followed by a low oath.
Longarm reached for his six-gun, which was hanging on the bedpost. He eased the gun out of its holster and then slipped off the bed, figuring that the intruders were after the Spanish treasure. Well, they were going to get a lot more than they bargained for when he stepped into Dan’s room with his six-gun in his fist.
“Dammit!” one of the men hissed. “I can’t see anything in here because it’s so dark!”
“Hey!” another cried. “I found something. It feels like … like an old metal box! And it’s real heavy!”
“Where?!”
“Over here!”
“Dammit, light a match but watch out! If that big marshal wakes up, we’re going to have to kill him before he kills us first.”
Longarm stifled a grunt of pain as he began to tiptoe forward toward the adjoining doorway. It was dark, and when he reached the door, he paused for several moments until a match flared and Dan’s room suddenly became illuminated.
There were three men, and one of them was Hank Bass! Longarm couldn’t help but grin as he raised his gun and said, “All right, boys, party is over. Throw up your hands!”
Bass jumped behind one of his companions and opened fire. Longarm shot the unfortunate man that Bass was using as a shield but had to duck back into his room for cover. In the next few moments, all hell broke loose. The match went out and the rooms were plunged into darkness. Longarm dropped to the floor and fired blindly into Dan’s room, more than a little afraid of accidently hitting the preacher, especially if the gunfire roused old Dan and he tried to leave his bed.
Glass shattered but Longarm was still getting return fire until he took a bead on a muzzle flash and ended the fight. A low grunt of pain and then the sound of a body striking the floor confirmed that a second outlaw was either wounded or dead. But that was a very important or, so Longarm wasted precious moments holding his breath and trying to figure out whether or not it was safe to enter Dan’s bullet-riddled room.
“Dan! Dan, are you all right?!”
When there was no answer, Longarm felt a chill of dread pass through his body. He took a deep breath and rushed into his friend’s room still half expecting to be shot at by one of the fallen outlaws.
Longarm put a match to Dan’s bedside lamp and sighed with relief. Dan had apparently drunk a good deal of his own bottle of whiskey and had fallen back into a very profound slumber. Fact was, he’d slept through the entire fray and was still asleep. Longarm made sure of that after taking Dan’s pulse and finding it both slow and steady. The lid of the treasure box was open and there were gold coins spilled across the floor and over to the shattered window.
Bass could not have taken more than a handful of the Spanish coins but, dammit, the outlaw had escaped again. His human shield was riddled with Longarm’s slugs, and the other man that Longarm had dropped was barely alive. Knowing that the dying outlaw might be able to give him a few important clues as to where Bass might go, Longarm tried to plug up a hole in his chest and revive him with a few gulps of whiskey.
“Who are you?!” Longarm demanded when the dying outlaw’s eyes fluttered open. “Where did Bass go?”
In reply, the outlaw tried to spit in Longarm’s face. Dropping the man’s head back to the floor with a loud thunk, Longarm watched as the outlaw’s body began to convulse and his boot heels pounded the wooden floor. There would be no answers from this man. None at all.
Longarm collected the scattered gold coins and returned them to the metal box. He grabbed up the whiskey and took a deep drink, then heard many footsteps pounding up the hallway.
“It’s over!” Longarm said, pushing the treasure box under Dan’s bed. “I’m a United States marshal and I want everyone to go back to bed!”
There was some disgruntled talk in the hallway, but things quickly quieted down. Longarm regarded the two dead men and, because he knew it would be hopeless to try to catch Bass, he went back to bed himself.
Chapter 16
When Longarm awoke late the next morning, there was a small crowd down in the street near his horses. Longarm yawned and peered at them through his window. When the crowd noticed him, one of its members pointed and shouted.
“There he is! It’s the marshal!”
Longarm pulled the curtain shut and went next door into Dan’s room. The preacher was snoring away and his color was quite good. Longarm checked Dan’s whiskey and discovered that the level of the bottle had dropped several inches. In fact, the better part of it had been consumed, telling Longarm that, preacher or not, Dan had a strong appetite for liquor.
The outlaws were still lying on the floor, and Longarm determined that his first order of business should be to remove them to the hallway where an undertaker could take care of that unpleasant business.
Opening Dan’s door, he dragged the two men out to the hallway where he immediately confronted the hotel clerk and an older man who identified himself as the owner of the Trevor House.