“Doesn’t anybody in this office remember how to say good morning?” Longarm complained.
“I remember how,” the balding, round-faced marshal said. “I just don’t damned well feel like it at the moment.”
“What has you so pissed off this early in the morning?” Longarm asked, hooking a boot toe behind the leg of a straight chair in front of the boss’s desk and dragging the chair around so he could straddle it backward and drape his forearms over what was supposed to be the back of the chair.
“Meddling,” Vail said. “Bunch of damned political upstarts interfering with my plans. My personnel. The assignments in this office.”
“I don’t know what you are talking about,” Longarm told him.
“If I thought for one second that you did, Long, I’d kick your butt so hard you could wear your asshole for earmuffs.”
“I don’t suppose you’d care t’ tell me-“
“I already told you. Meddling, that’s what.”
“But …”
“You know how much work we have to do over the next several weeks,” Vail complained.
“That I do,” Longarm agreed. “It’s gonna be a real bitch.”
“It would have been a bitch if I had everyone on the job to do it. Now it will be even worse.”
“So why won’t you have everyone available?” Longarm asked.
“Are you sure you don’t already know? Are you sure you didn’t have anything to do with this?” Vail picked up the “this” in question, a brown-rimmed yellow message form, and waved it accusingly in Longarm’s direction.
“Dammit, Boss, I don’t even know what that is. An’ I won’t know until or unless you quit your bitching an’ get around to tellin’ me what that thing is.”
“This,” the marshal grumbled, “is a request … an order actually, of course, but we aren’t supposed to call it that when certain political appointees may be involved. A request that one of my men, a particular one of my men at that, be detached from service with the Department of Justice and placed at the, um … let me get this right.” Vail peered intently at the paper for a moment, his lips moving slightly and his normally genial features contorted into a scowl. “Placed under direction, that is the word they used, ‘direction,’ of the War Department. Specifically, that this Department of Justice employee be placed under the direction of a Colonel L. Thompson Wingate at a certain, um, Camp Beloit, which military encampment is adjacent to the … let me see here … the Upper Belle Fourche later-tribal Agency. Wherever and whatever that is.” Billy Vail grunted and growled a little more and threw the message form down onto a small pile of other papers lying on his desk.
“What you’re saying,” Longarm drawled, trying to sort out the boss’s distress, “is that one o’ your deputies has got himself conscripted into the army? Sort of?”
“You could put it that way.”
“The poor sonuvabitch,” Longarm said with considerable feeling.
“You would rather be chasing all over the Rockies with papers to serve?” Vail asked.
“Rather than have to play hey-boy to some smart-ass army colonel? Hell, yes, I’d rather hang paper than that, Billy. You know how I feel about having to wipe butt whenever some other fella decides to fart. I’d a whole lot prefer running errands for those Congressmen. At least the Congressmen won’t be around looking over my shoulder all the time.”
“Then it appears that both of us are doomed to displeasure in this matter,” Billy said, “because you are the deputy I’ve been ‘requested’ to reassign.”
“What the hell for?” Longarm blurted out.
“Actually, I’m not sure, The only thing this telegram tells me is that the Secretary of War has personally requested your cooperation from the Attorney General.”
“Me?”
“You. In particular. By name.”
“But Boss, I never heard of no Colonel, uh … what was that name again?”
“L. Thompson Wingate.”
“Yeah. Him. I never heard of him. Nor of the camp where he’s posted. Nor for that matter of any Upper Belle Fourche whatsis. I never heard of any of this, Boss, so how the hell did I get involved in it?”
“Perhaps Colonel Wingate can explain it to your satisfaction. The only thing I know for sure, Longarm, is that you are to travel there by the quickest means possible and will report yourself for duty under his command at your earliest convenience. Which in army terms, if I remember correctly, means right damn now or maybe a little bit sooner than that.”
“Right away, Boss,” Longarm said. “Just as soon as I finish tossing a coin to decide do I head north, east, west, or south in order to find this place.”
“The Belle Fourche River, Deputy Long, is-“
“Yeah, boss, I know where the damn Belle Fourche is. I was just … you know.”
“Uh-huh. One more thing, Longarm.”
“Yes, sir?”
“If you happen to finish this detached assignment within the next week or two …”
“You can count on me, Boss. You know that.”
“Count on you to do what, Longarm?” Vail managed a smile for the first time since Longarm came into his office. It wasn’t much of one, but it was a smile nonetheless. “You’d best get along now. On your way out see Henry about travel arrangements. I asked him to look into the situation and see what he could do to expedite your journey.”
“Right.” Longarm stood and stifled an impulse to salute the marshal. He didn’t think Billy would find the gesture all that funny at the moment. “I’ll be back quick as I can,” he promised. And then, grinning, he added, “Call it a day or two after the rest of the boys get done hanging paper for the Congressmen.”
“Just remember one thing, Long,” Vail said in a serious tone of voice.
“Yes, sir?”
“You only have to kiss their asses if they’re majors or higher. Captains and below you can get by with a pucker and some kiss-kiss noise.”
Longarm pretended deep thought for a few moments, then nodded and said, “Right. Got it. Thanks, Boss.”
“Get out of here, Custis. And good luck.”
Chapter 3
Getting to a place he’d never heard of before proved to be easy as sliding on greased ice. When Longarm came out of Billy Vail’s office, Henry had a suggested itinerary already prepared for him … in two simple instructions. Take the train east to Julesburg, then the Deadwood, Dakota Territory, stage operated by the Blackelder Express Company.
“From Deadwood you won’t have any trouble at all finding transportation on to Camp Beloit. The army will be buying supplies locally, so ask around. Someone is bound to know how you can get there.”
Longarm was amazed. On two counts. The first was that Henry had somehow figured out a way for Longarm to get there when he was no more likely than Longarm to have known in advance that such a place as Camp Beloit existed. The second was that Henry had not figured out the last tiny details of Longarm’s travel.
“When does the next eastbound pull out for Julesburg?” Longarm asked.
“Relax. You have almost two hours to make it.”
“Hell, that’s time enough for me to go home an’ take a nap.”
“I have your expense vouchers here,” Henry said, tidying the paperwork into a bundle and handing it across his desk. “You won’t need any for your transportation, though. Blackelder is a mail carrier. Just show your badge, same as on the train, and you’re entitled to free passage. And don’t let some fast-talking ticket agent cheat you out of one of these vouchers.”
“Henry,” Longarm protested, his face a mask of utter innocence. “Would I …?”
“Yes, you most certainly would. Indeed, you have in the past. Next time, Longarm, I will disallow payment and you will have to make up the expenditure out of your own pocket. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, Mother,” Longarm said contritely. He tucked the vouchers, as good as cash once they were endorsed in favor of a merchant or vendor, into an inside coat pocket where they would be safe.