LONGARM AND THE GRAVE ROBBERS
By: Tabor Evans
Category: Fiction Western
Synopsis:
Custis Long has been under more covers than a hot-water bottle—but posing with a lady friend as a married couple may put Longarm under wraps for good. It’s all part of his plan to bust up a gang of grave robbers on the Mesa Verde. They’re making a bundle on stolen Indian artifacts—but it’s Longarm who’s going to make them pay. 239th novel in the “Longarm” series, 1998.
Last printing: 11/11/02 `@364’ Jove Books New York Jove Publications, Inc. All rights reserved.
This book may not be reproduced in whole or in part, by mimeograph or any other means, without permission. For information address: The Berkley Publishing Group, a member of Penguin Putnam Inc., 375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.
ISBN: 0-7739-515-12392-7
Jove Books are published by The Berkley Publishing Group, a member of Penguin Putnam Inc., 375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014. The Penguin Putnam Inc. World Wide Web site address is http://www.penguinputnam.com
JOVE and the “J” design are trademarks belonging to Jove Publications, Inc.
A Jove Book / published by arrangement with the author
Printing history Jove edition / November 1998
PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
If you purchased this book without a cover, you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the publisher, and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”
DON’T MISS THESE ALL-ACTION WESTERN SERIES FROM THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP
THE GUNSMITH by J. R. Roberts Clint Adams was a legend among lawmen, outlaws, and ladies. They called him … the Gunsmith.
LONGARM by Tabor Evans The popular long-running series about U.S. Deputy Marshal Long—his life, his loves, his fight for justice.
SLOCUM by Jake Logan Today’s longest-running action Western. John Slocum rides a deadly trail of hot blood and cold steel.
BUSHWHACKERS by B. J. Lanagan An action-packed series by the creators of Longarm! The rousing adventure of the most brutal gang of cutthroats ever assembled—Quantrill’s Raiders.
Chapter 1
“Custis, I have a tough job for you this time,” United States Marshal Billy Vail said, looking grim.
Deputy Marshal Custis Long scowled and took a seat in his boss’s office located in Denver’s Federal Building. He considered propping his boots up on the edge of Billy’s desk, then rejected the idea. He and Billy were good and longtime friends, but he did work for the man.
“A tough job,” Longarm repeated. “Billy, all the jobs that you give me are tough. Why should I expect that this one would be any different?”
“No reason, I guess,” Billy said, steepling his short, thick fingers and rearranging papers on his desk.
Stout and pudgy, Billy was a direct contrast to Longarm. But Billy’s eyes were sharp, and even if he was lacking in stature, there was nothing wrong with the quality of his brain. Billy was bright and Longarm respected the man, although he could be trying at times.
“Custis, I got a long letter from the town of Cortez this morning, and they’ve got a rather unusual problem over in the old Anasazi country around the Four Corners area.”
“Rough country, that.”
“Yeah, isn’t it, though. I remember one time I was chasing a gang of … aw, never mind. There’s no time for me to spin old stories.”
“I enjoy your stories,” Custis assured the man. “It’s just that I’ve heard them all about ten or twelve times.”
“Aw, get outa here!”
“Well, maybe only four or five times each then,” Longarm said, thinking how easy it was to pull Billy’s string and get him flustered.
In his younger days, Billy had been a field man himself before being promoted to a desk job. And although he made a lot more money now, he still considered those times when he’d been a deputy marshal his happiest. However, when a man took on a wife and a family, he needed to be more settled, and that was what Billy had chosen to be for the second half of his law career.
“The thing of it is,” Billy continued, “I do know that Four Corners country and it is wild. There’s a lot of outlaws running lose over there on the far side of the Rocky Mountains and-“
“And you’re sending me in there to clean ‘em out single-handed. Right?”
“No,” Billy said, “not unless you’ve got a little extra time on your hands. The job I have for you probably involves some of ‘em, though. But what we have out there is an organized band of Anasazi grave robbers.”
“Don’t-“
“Let me finish,” Billy said. “Custis, as you probably know, the Anasazi people were most likely the ancestors of the Hopi, Zuni, and who knows who else. They built pueblos and those big cliff dwellings at Mesa Verde.”
“Never have had the time to see them,” Longarm said. “Always too much of a hurry. But I’ve heard that they are an amazing sight.”
“You can be sure of that,” Billy told him. “And I promise that you’ll have the chance on this trip to see the Mesa Verde cliff dwellings because the letter on my desk is from a Miss Candice Mason. She claims that grave robbers in the Four Corners are thicker’n lice and they’re looting Anasazi artifacts and selling them to a ring of international thieves.”
“Do you believe that, or do you think she’s just another one of them old biddies that have nothing better to do than cry wolf every time she sees an Indian pot or arrowhead?”
“I believe her,” Billy said, “because I know Candice. Or at least, I knew her mother. They’re a good, solid ranching family. The girl’s mother died a few years back and she was a treasure in that part of the country. A real Florence Nightingale. Candice’s late father was a state legislator and also highly respected.”
“How old is Candice?”
“I don’t know. Maybe in her early twenties. I’ve heard that she runs the old homestead ranch and is doing pretty well at it too.”
“All right,” Longarm said, “so she’s not crying wolf.”
“I want you to go there and investigate. We have a rich Anasazi heritage here in Colorado, and damned if I want a bunch of profiteers and looters to be capitalizing on it.”
“All right,” Longarm said. “Actually, I’ve heard that American Indians have been the rage in Europe ever since Buffalo Bill Cody took his Wild West Show over there a few years back.”
“That’s right. And Mesa Verde is just one of the sites of old Anasazi ruins located in southeastern Colorado. According to Miss Mason, there are hundreds, probably thousands more throughout the entire region. This telegram says that some of the locals have tried to protect them from the looters and have been shot for their interference.”
“Is this a federal problem, or a local one?”
“It’s federal if they are transporting old Indian bones, pots, and whatever else they can traffic in across state lines. The last thing we want is our nation’s heritage going overseas to European curiosity shops or museums.”
“I suppose you’re right.”
“Of course I am,” Billy said. “And Miss Mason says that the Indians down there are so upset they’re starting to take things into their own hands. Innocent people might be killed. Hell, you could have all kinds of complications if the atmosphere gets sticky. Custis, unless we nip it in the bud, we could have an honest-to-goodness Indian war!”
“Oh,” Longarm said, smothering a grin, “I think that might be stretching things a bit.”
“How can you be sure? If someone was digging up the bones of your grandmother, for example, wouldn’t you be upset enough to shed some blood?”
“Nah,” Longarm said, keeping a straight face, “my grandmother was a regular old witch. Anybody who would fool with her remains would deserve ‘em.”
“Don’t patronize me, Custis! This is real serious business. People are being killed. I know that for a fact. And I believe that Miss Mason is right to say that there is probably an organized gang dealing in Anasazi bones.”