Longarm shook the cobwebs from his mind and forced himself into a sitting position. He struggled to his feet.
It took several minutes for him to come fully awake. Finally, he reached for his hat, gun, and holster. By the time he was able to collect his gear and get outside on the station platform, Lady Caroline and Mrs. Addie were already speeding off toward one of the hotels in a rented carriage.
Longarm wasn’t pleased. Not only had he missed the opportunity of dining a second time with the lovely Caroline, but he’d also lost the chance to squire her around Cheyenne and maybe, just maybe, end up in her royal embrace.
“Well, it’ll take four nights for this train to get us to Reno, more if I get lucky and the damn thing breaks down,” Longarm muttered to himself.
“Marshal, good luck to you on that Donner Pass train robbery,” Arnold said.
“For the love of Mike, do you know about that too?”
Arnold shrugged and worked up a smile. “Sure. Jess told me. I hope that you find them thievin’ bastards. You know, they pistol-whipped one of the Union Pacific mail room clerks when he was slow handing over the federal accounts. Pistol-whipped him so bad he’s still unconscious and not expected to live.”
“I didn’t hear about that,” Longarm said.
“Well, you can bet that every railroad man on every line west of the Mississippi River has heard about it and we’re all pulling for you, Longarm.”
“Does everyone on this train know about my business in Nevada?”
“I expect so,” Arnold said proudly. “And there’s little doubt that the telegraph operator will send the message along to Reno and east to Omaha and-“
Longarm swore in frustration. “That’s the very last thing that I wanted to happen! The entire reason I’ve bought new clothes and am traveling firstclass is that I’m supposed to be traveling incognito.”
“Yeah, that’s what Jess said. But it’ll never work, Marshal. Too many people know you ‘cause you’ve been comin’ and goin’ on the Union Pacific for too many years.”
In his heart, Longarm suspected this was the truth. The only comforting thing was that he’d be leaving Reno and riding out into the barren hills of Nevada to find Helldorado and Matthew Killion’s gang of thieves. Perhaps they wouldn’t recognize him and he could be among them just long enough to get enough evidence to make his arrests.
“Arnold, did you happen to hear where Lady Caroline was spending the night?”
“Probably at the Winston House. That’s the fanciest boardinghouse in Cheyenne.”
“Yeah,” Longarm said, “I suppose that it is.”
“Good-lookin’, isn’t she!”
“No doubt about that.”
“Marshal, I wonder if she …” Arnold’s cheeks turned red with embarrassment and the porter could not continue. “Aw, never mind.”
“What?”
“Well, you know.”
“No,” Longarm said, “I don’t. What are you wondering about?”
“Well, if she … you know.”
Longarm had to work not to keep from smiling. “You mean if she’s any different physically because she’s from a royal family?”
“That, and if she … you know, enjoys a man in bed.”
Longarm shrugged. “I’ll be honest with you, Arnold. I never even met a royal lady and I don’t know what they do in bed. But when you get right down to the basics, royalty are human beings just like the rest of us commoners.”
“Do you really think so?”
“Why, sure! Royalty are just people that either happened to be born to their high stations or married into it. Either way, it don’t give them the right to put on superior airs. I judge folks by what they do, not the title that goes before their names.”
“I dunno,” Arnold said, looking very skeptical. “I never seen a woman to equal Lady Caroline.”
“She’s beautiful and gracious and probably rich,” Longarm conceded, “but she’s still just a person like the rest of us and I’ll bet she has the same needs, fears, and even desires.”
“Then you don’t expect that it’s sort of … well, beneath the royal dignity of a woman like that to have a good romp in the sack?”
“Nope,” Longarm said with conviction. “I sure don’t. Arnold, I fully expect that Lady Caroline enjoys a man every bit as much as the next woman.”
“My, oh, my,” Arnold said, looking quite amazed. “In a way, that’s real comforting. But, if I was a young prince or king, I still wouldn’t know how to act around Lady Caroline. And I don’t see how you know either.”
“I don’t,” Longarm admitted. “I just try to be myself and let the chips fall where they may.”
“I doubt that they’ll fall anyplace,” Arnold said. “That Mrs. Addie is worsen a bulldog for watchin’ Lady Caroline. She’ll sniff out your worst intentions.”
“She already has,” Longarm said. “But I’m still going to do my best to get around her.”
“Good luck!”
“Thanks,” Longarm said, grabbing his traveling bags and saddlebags, “because I’ll need it.”
After he left the train station and headed into the booming rail and ranching town of Cheyenne, Longarm resisted the temptation to go to the Winston House and ask to see Caroline. He figured that acting too aggressively might scare her off, and it would certainly trigger the displeasure of Mrs. Addie. So Longarm rented a modest room at the new, two-story Teton Hotel. Later, he enjoyed a quiet supper and went out to find a little entertainment in the form of a low-stakes card game or just some friendly conversation.
Normally, Longarm would have visited the old and venerable Elkhorn Saloon, where he knew the bartenders and most of the regulars. Tonight, however, he reminded himself that he was supposed to be looking and acting like a businessman. So instead, Longarm decided to try a few new places, the kind that catered to a wealthier class of visitor. A place like the Rutherford Inn, where well-heeled travelers felt welcome and safe from the rowdier types that preyed on them at the railroad towns.
When Longarm went inside the Rutherford, he removed his hat because everyone else had done so, and there was a nicely dressed man who offered to take not only his new Stetson, but also his coat.
“I’ll wear the coat,” Longarm said. “Just point me in the direction of the bar.”
“The saloon is off to your right, restaurant to the left. Will you be dining alone?”
“I won’t be dining at all,” Longarm said. “I’m just looking to enjoy a few drinks and some congenial company.”
“Very good,” the man said formally. “I’m sure that you will find our saloon to your liking.”
“As long as they serve good whiskey for under four bits a shot, I’ll get along fine.”
The man’s expression changed. “I’m afraid that the drinks are a little bit steeper than that.”
“How steep?”
“One dollar, I believe, is the minimum.”
“Holy cow! I can buy a bottle and …” Longarm remembered himself and clamped his mouth shut before he walked on into the saloon. He guessed he could buy a round or two and then he’d call it a night.
The saloon was dim and only half full, with about twenty men, all wearing suits, starched white shirts, ties, and collars. Longarm was aware that heads turned when he sauntered across to the bar and ordered a whiskey. He was big and rugged enough that men as well as woman appraised him with admiration.
“Good evening, sir,” the bartender said with a slight but definite bow. “How can I serve you this evening?”
Longarm was impressed. No bartender he’d ever seen had been this solicitous. “Well,” he mused, as if he hadn’t already decided, “I believe I’ll have one of your best whiskeys.”
“What brand, sir?”
Longarm was stumped. He normally bought whatever the house brand was unless it was Old Wild Weasel, a particularly venomous brew. Now, Longarm scanned the back bar and said, “I’ll take some Mountain Nectar.” “Good choice, but it’s brandy, sir, not whiskey.”