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“There ought to be better maintenance on this equipment,” another man grumped. “Why, if one of us passengers had of been standing beside that furnace when she blew, we’d probably be dead!”

“Probably,” Longarm agreed. “Is anybody up for a game of poker?”

Several men were.

“Then let’s get started.”

Longarm knew that the whole train crew would soon suspect that he was the culprit. The truth of the matter was that Longarm simply did not care. No doubt the Union Pacific would eventually repair their firstclass coach’s heating apparatus, and compartment number three would again be the infamous sweatbox. Longarm didn’t care as long as he could finally be comfortable in the meantime.

That night it actually got chilly in the firstclass coach, and the next morning Mrs. Addie complained bitterly about the temperature, but no one paid her a good deal of attention. Longarm and Irma had made cool love and slept dry for the first time since leaving Cheyenne.

When the train pulled into Elko, Nevada, Longarm escorted Lady Caroline, Mrs. Addie, and Irma into town to do some shopping and sightseeing during the scheduled two-hour layover. Having been in this hell-on-wheels rail town many times, Longarm knew the shops that they would want to visit, and had decided that he would devote himself to their needs. After all, this would be the last stop-over until they all parted company in Reno.

“Elko is one of my favorite holdovers along this run,” Longarm said as they strolled along the boardwalk. “Unlike some of the railroad towns, this one has a church, a school, and an air of civility. It also depends a lot less on the railroad for its existence.”

“Why is that?” Caroline asked.

“Because this is such excellent cattle and sheep country,” Longarm explained. “Some of the biggest and most successful ranching operations in the West can be found in this country. Over to the southeast are the Ruby Mountains, and they’re tall, cool, and beautiful. There are a lot of wild mustangs in this part of Nevada.”

Perhaps we should stay over for a few days,” Caroline said, looking at Mrs. Addie.

“No,” she said, “I don’t think that would be such a good idea. What is Reno like, Mr. Long?”

“It’s bigger and will have more comforts for you ladies,” he told them. “Also, there are a lot of wild horse herds in the surrounding country.”

“Then I definitely think we should go on,” Mrs. Addie said, her brow furrowed with concern. “But of course, that is your decision to make, Lady Caroline.”

“Perhaps you are right,” Caroline said, “although I can almost feel the excitement in this town.”

“It’s pretty wild and wooly here on Saturday night,” Longarm told them. “But I think that it would be more enjoyable for you to stop over in Reno. There are also a lot more stores, and you might even want to take a side trip up to the nearby Comstock Lode. It’s in a steep financial decline, the ore having run out in most of the big mines like the Belcher and the Ophir, but Piper’s Opera House, saloons like the Bucket of Blood and the Delta Queen, as well as some of the old mansions and the beautiful St. Mary of the Mountains Church are sights that you will never forget.”

“Then let’s go on,” Caroline said. She looked to Irma. “You are going on, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” she said, smiling sweetly at Longarm. “I have found a gentleman whose kindness and generosity allow me to continue on to Reno.”

Longarm’s cheeks blushed and he said, “Ladies, I’m going to go have a drink and play a few rounds of cards. Our two-hour layover ought to be plenty of time for you to browse the shops and stores.”

A rough-looking cowboy passed them slowly, staring boldly at Caroline and Irma. Mrs. Addie stiffened with indignation. “Are you sure that it’s safe?”

“Yes,” Longarm told them. “And if you have any trouble, I’ll be at the Elko Saloon, just a few doors up on this side of the street. All you have to do is sing out and I’ll come running.”

“I’ll take care of them,” Irma said. “If nothing else, I know how to handle men.”

This candid remark surprised Longarm, and told him that Irma must have confessed her past sins in some detail to these two English ladies. And Longarm guessed that was all for the best, that probably Irma had been accepted because of her honesty.

“Fair enough,” Longarm said, tipping his hat to the ladies and heading off to find a cigar, a whiskey, and some fresh conversation.

The Elko Saloon was a cowboy hangout. The walls had the many local cattle outfits’ brands burned into them. There were old, broken saddles slung over the rafters and covered with dust and cobwebs, and a couple of longhorn steer heads decorated the walls with their enormous spans of black-tipped horns. One of the longhorns had the stump of a cigar stuffed between its jaws. In addition, there were several Indian lances and rusty trade rifles nailed to the walls, trophies of an earlier, far more dangerous era.

“Well, well!” the bartender called. “If it isn’t Deputy Marshal Custis Long. And ain’t you the fancy one in that new suit, hat, and cowboy boots! What happened? Did you start collecting your own rewards?”

Several of the cowboys broke into easy laughter, and even Longarm had to grin. “How ya doin’, Jake? Good to see you again.”

“And you,” Jake said, looking genuinely pleased. “You know it’s always a pleasure to see you come through my door. First drink is on me. What’ll you have?”

“I’ll have the usual snake poison,” Longarm said, knowing that the house brand of whiskey was pretty good and not watered down the way it often was in the rail town saloons.

Jake filled him a glass and then filled one for himself. He was a slope-shouldered man in his late forties, nearly bald but with a thick, luxurious mat of beard.

“To good health and friends,” Jake said, raising his glass in salute.

Longarm nodded and raised his own glass. The whiskey went down smooth and he emptied his glass, smacked his lips, and said, “You always did carry good liquor, Jake. How are things in Elko these days?”

“Things are good. Cattle prices are down a little, but they’ll come back up. The railroad is planning to replace some trestles just east of us, and they’ll have to bring in about a hundred section hands and builders this month. That will help all of us businessmen.”

“It will,” Longarm agreed. “Are the mustangers still working the Ruby Mountains and bringing in a lot of wild horses?”

“There’s still a few left,” Jake said, “but not near as many as a couple years back. What we have now are the Indians who have pretty much taken that business over. They’ll stay out in the brush and are happy just to catch a dozen mustangs all summer. They break ‘em to ride and then sell ‘em to the army and to the locals. What they can’t sell because they’re runts or cripples will be sold to the meat buyers who ship them east for dog food. I hear tell that the folks in Europe eat horsemeat like it was a delicacy.”

“I’ve also heard that,” Longarm admitted. “But I sure can’t imagine a man eating a horse unless he was starving.”

“The Apache like horses and mules better than cattle.”

“Yeah,” Longarm said, “but the Apache have been known as being picky about anything.”

Longarm ordered a second round of drinks for himself and Jake. They sipped this round and talked about things of general interest, mostly the weather and the politics of the state of Nevada and nearby Utah.

“I might sell out and move over to California one of these days,” Jake confessed. “If I can find a buyer with enough cash money.”

“Why would you want to do a thing like that?” Longarm asked. “You have a fine reputation and a nice little business.”

“Sure it is, but about once a month we have a real bad brawl in here. Cowboys get liquored up and start to raise hell. They bust the place up.”