He took off Harding’s coat, working it carefully over the handcuffs. Harding seemed to be under the impression that Longarm was going to do something about his broken collarbone. He said, “It’s about time.”
Longarm took off the vest the man was wearing, then undid the tie and stripped that off. The shirt followed and then the undershirt. The undershirt had to come over his head so Longarm didn’t bother. He just ripped it off.
Harding was looking both annoyed and uncertain as he stood there, bare from the waist up. He said, “Here! What are you about?”
Longarm casually slapped him bare-handed across the mouth. A trickle of blood came out of the corner of Harding’s bruised lips. Longarm said, “I told you to keep quiet. Open that yap again and I’m going to break your nose. I hear tell you pride yourself on being a treat for the ladies to see. If you make any more noise, your own mother won’t want to look at you, if you ever had one.”
Now that he had stripped Harding bare, Longarm started to pull his hands behind his back again to complete the manacling but Harding protested, whispering, afraid to make any noise. He pleaded with Longarm, “Please. Please, Marshal. Handcuff me in front. It’s killing my broken collarbone.”
Longarm thought a moment, looking at the man. He said, “All right, but if you cause any trouble, it’ll go that much worse for you.”
Harding said, “I swear, Marshal. I won’t be any trouble. Just please don’t handcuff me behind my back.”
Longarm shrugged and then handcuffed his wrists together in front of him. He stepped back. He said, “I’m going into the room next door. If you even move out of your tracks, I am going to come in here and have you for breakfast. Do you understand me? The door to the hall there is locked; you can’t get out of it. This room is on the second story, and you can’t get out of one of those windows. You can’t get away from me and you’re only going to agitate me if you try. Understand?”
Harding nodded mutely.
Longarm gave him one more look and then slipped quietly into the next room where Sarah was asleep. For a second, he looked down at her. She looked very little-girlish, relaxed with her hair arranged. A far cry from the whipped, frightened creature he had met not much more than a week previous. He leaned down and put his lips on hers, kissing her quietly until her eyes fluttered open. He was kissing her not only because he wanted to but also to keep her from yelling out. When he saw that she was awake, he pulled back and put his fingers to his lips.
He said, whispering to her, “I’ve got a surprise for you. It’s going to scare you a little bit at first, but I think you’re going to enjoy it.”
She pulled herself up on one elbow. She asked, “What time is it?”
“I don’t know. Probably about four o’clock in the morning.”
“What kind of surprise can you have at four o’clock in the morning?” she asked.
“You just get up, get dressed, and turn the lamp up. You’ve got a good heavy robe, don’t you?”
She nodded. He said, “Well, put that on. I don’t want you showing too much.”
She wrinkled her brow. “What kind of a surprise is it?”
He said, “It wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you, now would it?”
She shook her head. She said, “You are the most amazing man.”
“Hurry up and get dressed and call me when you’re ready. Just call me—don’t come to the door. I’ll bring the surprise through the door.”
Sarah threw the covers back and put her feet over the edge of the bed as he stood up. She said, “Well, you certainly have me curious.”
“It’s probably the last thing in the world that you ever expected to be surprised with.” He turned around and walked back into his room. Harding was standing in exactly the same spot that Longarm had left him in. Longarm didn’t think he had suddenly become obedient or any less defiant. He knew that the man had plenty of fight left in him, which was as he had hoped. Longarm wanted to watch it drain away under the hands of someone he himself had tortured and almost ruined.
Five minutes passed before Longarm heard the summons from the next room. He took Harding by the arm and turned him toward the connecting door. He was carrying the hard india rubber cane in his right hand. Harding asked, “Was that a woman’s voice?”
“Not to you it ain’t,” Longarm said.
Harding said, “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You’ll see.”
They got to the doorway of the well-lit room and Longarm put his hand in the middle of Harding’s back and shoved him forward. He heard a frightened shriek.
Chapter 12
He hustled around Harding, hurrying to reassure Sarah. She was dressed in a heavy quilted robe, but she was backed up against the end of her bed, her hands covering her face, her eyes fright-filled. Longarm went over to her. He said, “No, no, no, honey. You don’t have to fear him anymore. He’s yours now. The shoe’s on the other foot.” She said in a trembling voice, “My God, it’s Richard.”
Harding walked a few steps into the room and asked, “What’s she doing here?” He said it viciously, tearing off each word.
Longarm reached him in two steps, grabbed him by the arms, turned him and slammed him face forward toward the wall. He said, “Get over there and stay there and don’t open that damned mouth again or I’ll let some air into you.”
Then he turned back to Sarah. He said, “Here’s the man who tried to ruin your life. Here’s the man who turned you into a hostage wife. Now, I’m going to give you the chance to give him some back.” He held out the india rubber cane. “Have at him.”
She looked at the cane and then she looked up at Longarm. She said slowly, shaking her head, “I couldn’t. I couldn’t.”
Longarm said, “Hell, Sarah. He beat the living daylights out of you. What do you mean you can’t? Of course you can.”
Sarah shook her head. Her hands were down at her sides now but there was still horror and fear in her eyes. She said, “Oh, I couldn’t. I couldn’t.”
From across the room, Harding laughed. “What’s the matter, Longarm? Surprised? When I train them, I train them good.”
“Listen to that! The damned fool is still shaming you. Take this cane and stripe his back good.”
Sarah started, walking toward the front of the room where the little table stood with the water pitcher and the glasses on it. She poured herself a small glass of water and gulped it down. Longarm’s bottle of whiskey was standing there. She said, “Can I have a drink?”
“Yes, by all means. Have a big one and then go beat the hell out of that son of a bitch,” Longarm said.
She poured a tiny amount of whiskey in her glass and then added three times as much water. She drained it in one swallow and, after a moment, seemed to look calmer. She looked up at Longarm. She said, “I know you think you’re doing me good, but it’s not. I’m not that kind of person, Custis.”
Longarm said, “All right, you can’t hit him. That’s fine. But I’ve seen the scars on your back and your breasts where he burnt you with a cigar.” He fumbled in his pocket and got out a cigarillo and struck a match with the thick nail of his thumb, lit it and got it drawing good. He said, “Now there. Go plant a few of those burns on his back.”
She looked at the glowing cigarillo and then she looked back up into Longarm’s face. She said, “I can’t do it, Custis. I can’t do it.”
Longarm said, “You have to hate that son of a bitch like nobody else in the world. Here’s your chance to get back at him. Think of all the things he did to you. I saw you when you were whipped down like a dog.”
“It doesn’t matter,” she said. “I can’t be like him.”
Longarm had his back to Harding. He heard the man laugh cruelly.