LONGARM AND THE INDIAN WAR [066-066-5.0]
By: Tabor Evans
Synopsis:
Up in Dakota Territory, two Indian tribes are at each other’s throats. So the government sends Longarm to fix things—as if one U.S. marshal can stop hundreds of mad-as-hell warriors from killing each other. Longarm’s having a hard time getting the nasty neighbors to play nice. He’s having a harder time ducking the lead that’s flying at him from all directions. And once he finds out who’s behind it, he’ll trade in his peace pipe for a piece of the action … and dole out frontier justice, Longarm-style! 220th novel in the “Longarm” series, 1997.
Jove Books New York Copyright (C) 1997 by 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, 200 Madison Avenue, New York, New York 10016.
ISBN: 0-515-12050-2
Jove Books are published by The Berkley Publishing Group, 200 Madison Avenue, New York, New York 10016.
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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 / April 1997
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.”
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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.
Chapter 1
This was the day. The one Longarm had been dreading. They all knew it was coming, and they all damn well hated it. Unfortunately they had no choice in the matter, not Longarm and not any one of the other United States deputy marshals who worked under Marshal William Vail, head of the Justice Department’s Denver District.
This detestable job was going to require the efforts of every man the marshal could put in the saddle, and even then it would take weeks to complete.
The problem, of course, was the United States Congress and its meddling committees. In this case the committee members—well, more accurately their staffs; the Congressmen themselves would only lend their hands to the effort when there was glory to be handed out—were investigating alleged profiteering and political kickbacks among the moneyed silver mining interests.
Big surprise if true. Sure it was, Longarm told himself ruefully as he made his way through the pedestrian traffic along Colfax Avenue not far west of the gold-domed State Capitol Building.
It was morning of the day he’d been dreading, and his gait was considerably slower today than normal.
The problem for Billy Vail’s deputies was not the actual investigation that was about to take place. Congressional staff members would take care of all that.
The deputies’ jobs would be to get all the damned witnesses subpoenaed so the investigating—or political grandstanding, whatever—could begin.
There were, Longarm and the rest of the boys had been told, literally hundreds upon hundreds of subpoenas to receipt and deliver. To hundreds upon hundreds of potential witnesses. Who might damn well not want to be found and served with these particular instruments. And who, even if they held still and docilely waited for service, were spread out over much of Colorado, New Mexico, Utah, Wyoming, and Montana.
Finding them all, serving them all, completing the paperwork on them all was going to be a daunting proposition. Or in simpler terms, this was gonna be a bitch.
The formal start of the massive campaign was scheduled to begin this afternoon. Every deputy Billy could claim was supposed to show up at one o’clock for final instructions and a bundle of subpoenas.
For some reason Billy had sent word to Longarm last night that his presence was required at nine, though, well in advance of the general meeting.
Hence Longarm was making his way along Colfax at roughly his usual starting hour.
He reached the gray stone edifice that was the Federal Building and bounced up the steps, pausing in front of the glass panels of the double doors to check his reflection and make sure he was fit to present himself for duty. What he saw was reasonably reassuring.
Deputy Marshal Custis Long was a tall and rangy man, standing something over six feet in height, with broad shoulders and a horseman’s lean hips. He had a craggy and somewhat wind-burned face, brown hair, brown eyes, and a massive sweep of brown mustache as well.
This morning he wore a dark gray broadcloth suit, a pale yellow vest, and his customary flat-crowned brown Stetson hat.
Beneath the coat could be seen a gunbelt that supported a large and much used Colt double-action .44 revolver set in a cross-draw rig. Not so obvious was the perfectly normal-looking watch chain that stretched across Longarm’s flat belly. One end of the chain was attached to the expected watch, in this instance a key-wound Ingersoll of railroad quality. At the other end, however, the “fob” was in fact a brass-framed .44-caliber derringer, a device that Longarm on occasion had found more useful than a normal decorative fob.
Longarm made sure everything was more or less in order, smoothed the ends of his mustache, and reached inside his coat for a slim, dark cheroot, which he trimmed and lighted before going inside and making his way—he could have done it by now while blindfolded, he was certain—to the U.S. Marshal’s office.
“He’s waiting for you,” Marshal Vail’s prim and bookish clerk said without preamble.
“I’m not late,” Longarm protested.
“I didn’t say you were. Just that he’s waiting for you. You can go in now.”
“An’ a fine good morning to you too, Henry. Forget to shave under that ear this morning, did you?” Longarm hung his Stetson on the rack behind Henry, and managed to keep a straight face as Henry surreptitiously felt of his face first on one side and then the other, to make sure there was no unsightly stubble there. Which there was not. Longarm enjoyed teasing Henry at times, but he also liked and indeed respected the mild-seeming little man. Henry’s appearance was not forbidding, but there was a core of spring steel inside him and he had never been known to back down from anything duty required of him. And Longarm was convinced beyond doubt that Henry would throw himself in front of an oncoming freight train if Billy Vail needed him to.
“What’s this about, Henry? How come I have to be here before everybody else.”
“Because they’re all going to hate your guts when they find out, that’s why. Because the boss has a plum assignment especially for you. Because now all the other fellows have to deliver your batch of subpoenas along with their own. And because you seem to live a charmed life that keeps you from being overwhelmed with the boredom that is the bane and the curse of all the rest of us. That’s why.” Henry sniffed and pushed his spectacles higher onto his nose.
Longarm laughed. “Try again, Henry. You aren’t gonna get to me that easy. No false hopes for me today, thank you.”
“At the risk of repeating myself, Deputy … he’s waiting for you. Go right on in whenever it’s convenient.”
“Thanks.” Longarm tapped lightly on Billy Vail’s office door and let himself in without waiting for a response.
Chapter 2
“I don’t like this,” Billy Vail declared. “Not even a little bit.”