They left the burro in a stall at the livery, which was now being run by a townsman, who had temporarily replaced Joe Horn, and hurried to the Concord Hotel. Jenny McAllister had a fit when she saw what poor shape they were in.
“My God!” she cried. “What happened!”
“It’s a long story, ma’am. Could you have a steaming bath brought up to our room and later a good hot meal?”
“Why, of course! You both look like death warmed over.”
“I’m sure we do,” Longarm said, feeling his lips crack as he tried to smile and show that he was still game. “But we’ll be much better by morning.”
“Did you walk all the way down from the mesa?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“In this terrible weather?”
“Wasn’t any choice, ma’am. No choice at all.”
“Let’s get you upstairs to a room and we’ll have that hot bath ready in no time.”
“Thank you,” Miranda said, her voice thin and trembling with weariness.
“my land,” the woman said, “I sure wouldn’t be going anywhere else with this fool!”
Longarm might have thought the remark somewhat humorous had he been in his normal good spirits. But as it was, he found himself entirely lacking in humor as he took Miranda’s arm and steered her toward the stairs.
They soaked long and ate well that night, then slept like the dead, and did not awaken until almost ten o’clock the following morning.
“I’m feeling a lot better,” Miranda told Longarm as he dressed and checked his weapons. “And I’d like to go out with you this morning.”
“I’d prefer that you stayed in bed and rested,” he said. “I doubt that our friends are in town anyway.”
“But you said it was just as likely they’d head for Laird’s museum as for Durango.”
“Well,” Longarm said, not wanting to place Miranda in any danger, “I changed my mind. I’m quite sure that they’ve gone to Durango.”
“Then what-“
“I want to go to the telegraph office and see if I’ve heard back from Billy Vail on those two archaeologists,” Longarm explained. “My guess is that Harvard University has never heard of either man.”
“And then what?”
“I’ll go pay a visit to Laird and ask him a few more questions.”
“Will you arrest him?”
“Not yet,” Longarm told her. “Not until we first arrest Lucking and Barker. Laird can wait a while longer. I’m sure that he isn’t the leader of this bunch, and I don’t want to spook them into hiding.”
“Be careful,” Miranda pleaded. “And if I can-“
“You can’t,” Longarm said. “Just stay here and rest up. We’ll be heading for Durango the minute I can find a way to get there safely.”
“All right.”
Longarm went downstairs. He would have loved to have breakfast and hot coffee, but he felt compelled to seek out Laird and perhaps, if his hunches were correct, even catch Lucking and Barker at the museum unloading their last shipment of Anasazi artifacts before the pair headed east into a winter hiding.
The telegram that he was hoping for had arrived in Cortez several days earlier, and it read:
HARVARD HAS NEVER HEARD OF EITHER IMPOSTER ARREST THEM AT ONCE BILLY
That telegram was all the reason he needed to approach the museum from its back side. Longarm drew his gun and eased up to a grimy rear window, then rubbed it clean and peered inside. A big smile creased his face, causing his parched lips to crack and bleed again. But Longarm didn’t care because it was his good fortune to see not only Lucking and Barker, but also the two employees of Mountain Packers as well as Laird. They were sorting through the latest delivery of new artifacts, and so absorbed in their business that Longarm had no trouble getting the drop on them.
“Good morning!” he shouted, his gun trained on all five men who were crouched over an Anasazi mummy that they had just removed from a packing crate. “Nice stuff, huh?”
One of the cowboys foolishly reached for the gun on his hip, and Longarm drilled him through the forearm. The man screamed and collapsed to his knees, wringing his bloody arm.
“Anyone else interested in losing the use of their arm … or worse?”
No one was. Longarm had them lie down on the floor and then, one by one, he used the same rope that had bound the packing crates to hog-tie his prisoners.
“we demand to know the meaning of this outrage!” Laird shouted.
Longarm extracted the telegram and read it out loud. “What this means, gentlemen,” he said, specifically addressing Lucking and Barker, “is that you have been lying to everyone about your true intentions, which are to loot Mesa Verde cliff dwellings and realize enormous but illegal profits from the sale of their artifacts.”
“You’re crazy!” Lucking choked, his face apoplectic with rage. “And I’ll see that you pay for this mistake!”
“Fine,” Longarm told the man. “But that will have to wait until we reach Durango and I arrest your boss. Do you want to tell me who he is now … or must I get that information the hard way?”
“Go to Hell!” Barker hissed through clenched teeth. “You don’t have anything on any of us.”
“You’re dead wrong about that,” Longarm said, going over to extract a skull from one of the crates. The skull had parchment-like skin over its face and strands of long black hair. It was one of the best-preserved Longarm had ever seen, but also one of the most hideous.
“Isn’t this one something, though,” he said, turning the skull one way and then another while his eyes shifted back and forth across his five captives seeking a look that would tell him who among them would be the most disgusted by what he intended to do next.
It was definitely the youngest of the mule skinners who had been supplying Lucking and Barker. Longarm read his revulsion, and went over to the bound man and pushed the Indian skull right into his face. The skinner went mad with horror, shouting and trying to jump up and run. Longarm put a knee squarely between the man’s shoulder blades and said, “Maybe you’d like to-“
“No! Get it away from me!”
“Who is your Durango boss? Who is he!”
The other four hostages started shouting at the young man to keep his mouth shut, but the kid was oblivious to everything except the Anasazi skull that Longarm was waving before his round, panic-filled eyes.
“It’s Marshal Palladin! He gives the orders!”
Longarm retracted the skull and studied the kid. There was no possibility that he was lying. “Thanks. I can’t think of anyone that I’d rather arrest than that rotten sonofabitch.”
“What about us!” Lucking cried.
“Oh,” Longarm said, “I’ll find a safe place to hold you until the weather clears. Then we’ll go to Durango together, where I’ll arrest Palladin and put you all on a stage for Pueblo, then a train for Denver. I’m afraid that you might have some difficulty adjusting to prison, but that can’t be helped.”
“You rotten sonofabitch!” Lucking cried. “I’ll see that you pay for this!”
Longarm’s stomach growled, reminding him that he needed a hearty breakfast. And so, after double-checking to make sure that the five were securely bound and had no chance of escape, he closed the door of the museum behind him and went off to have a good meal of bacon, eggs, and pancakes.
Chapter 16
The storm lasted for two days, and Longarm kept his captives hog-tied in the near-freezing museum the entire time while he and Miranda recuperated. When a warm chinook wind came and quickly melted the snow, Longarm hired an honest and willing freighter to take them all to Mancos, where they spent the night, and then to push on for Durango.
“I want you to pull this wagon in behind the livery and watch over these boys while I pay Marshal Palladin a surprise visit,” Longarm told the driver when they neared Durango.