“Why, thank you, Custis. Coming from you I take that as a high compliment.”
“Well, it ain’t intended as one. Just a simple truth.”
“So do you have any ideas about who might have wanted you killed here?”
“Besides you and Clete Terry, you mean?” Longarm shook his head. “Can’t think of a soul. Not one.”
Bolt pursed his lips and pulled at his chin with the fingers of both hands, tugging and stretching the skin there like he was pulling taffy. “I don’t suppose the man could have stolen that money and shotgun,” he mused aloud. “Then went looking for you for the same reason he braced you yesterday. Pure meanness and a big hate for marshals.”
“We’re talkin’ about human beings here, Harry. That makes anything possible. But I got to tell you that I ain’t no believer in coincidence. An’ him just happening to luck into a score that’d include a shotgun—that’d stretch things pretty damn far, wouldn’t it?”
“Just a thought,” Bolt said. “I think maybe …” They were interrupted by a clanging on a stove lid over by the bar.
“Listen up, everybody,” Clete Terry was announcing in a loud voice. “I been asked to make an apology about something. A public apology. So all right, damn it. Here goes.”
Longarm lighted a cheroot and leaned back to listen to what Mr. Terry had to say on the subject of how to treat women. Even the fallen variety.
Chapter 32
Longarm gave Angela the five hundred dollars in gold coins—he practically had to beat her up himself in order to get her to accept the payment—and a complete rundown on the apology Cletus Terry had made before the saloon full of local men.
“This is enough for Eric and me to get a start somewhere where they don’t know … you know … somewhere fresh,” she said, obviously in awe of the amount of money that she held now in her lap.
“That’s kinda what I was hoping you’d want to do,” Longarm admitted.
Angela smiled. Her bruises were still horridly discolored and her face was lumpy and swollen. But there was nothing wrong with her eyes, and Longarm found that he liked it when he saw her smile reach them. “I’m a good seamstress, you know. Really and truly good. With this much money to start with I could set up a shop. Not just another shop catering to ladies, though. There are lots of them everywhere you go. I could make fancy clothes for children. I’m very, very good at that anyway. And I think there might be a good market for that. You know. Something that not everyone is doing. What do you think, Mr. Long?”
“Sounds fine to me. You’d want to set up someplace where there’s lots of rich folks.”
“Denver?”
“Maybe. Central City might be better. Lots of money there. And it’s close enough that the swells from Denver would take the train out to shop an’ buy from you if you was to advertise in the Denver newspapers. Make it, you know, special because of the trip involved. Make it a big deal goin’ out there to get the very best in the way of fancy kids’ duds.”
Angela was beaming now. She clapped her hands in excitement. “This sounds wonderful. Eric? What do you think, dear?”
“Can we take Peppy and my cart?”
She gave Longarm a questioning glance, and he quickly nodded. Hell, it wouldn’t cost but a few dollars to haul a pony and cart along with them on the train. Angela had money enough for that and more now.
“Of course we’ll take Peppy, darling.”
The boy’s enthusiasm was quick to join in with his mother’s once he had that promise in hand. But then with kids like Rick for pals in Cargyle, it was obvious Buddy wouldn’t be leaving anything very dear behind when he shook off the dust of this place.
“And what about you, Mr. Long?”
“Oh, I’ll be pulling out soon too. No real point in stayin’ now. I don’t know who it is that was wantin’ me gunned down, but odds are I never will know now. His hired man couldn’t do the job, an’ I reckon he ain’t man enough to try it his own self. I sure ain’t gonna sit around here makin’ a target of myself while I wait for him to get his nerve up. I got better things to do than that. No, I got done what I needed to here. I’ll stay over one more night, then pull out tomorrow.”
“Will I, that is to say, will we see you again? In Denver perhaps?”
“If you like, Miz Fulton, an’ if you’re feeling up to the travel, I don’t see why we couldn’t take the train together as far as Denver. Then when you get settled in Central City, or wherever it is you decide you want to go, you could, like, drop me a note to say where you are. Y’know? And I could maybe stop in sometime. If that’d be all right.”
Buddy put his approval on the plan immediately. And vocally. Angela endorsed it as well, but with a look she kept carefully hidden from her son.
“Eric, do you feel up to getting dressed and running an errand?” she said to him.
The boy seemed a mite reluctant to give up his recuperation period. After all, any kid likes to be waited on and fussed over. But with the prospect of moving to a fancy town like Central City—and with Peppy too—he abandoned his invalid status readily enough and hopped out of bed. After all, he hadn’t been very badly wounded by those shotgun pellets. It was the status much more than any pain that had kept him bedridden since.
“I want you to run down to Mr. Tankerson’s store. Tell him he can come make an offer on the things we won’t be taking with us. And mind you tell him he can make part of the payment in kind. We’ll be needing crates and packing goods, things like that. That will make it more attractive to him, knowing he can render a part payment in materials. Oh, and you will need to ask someone, Mr. Martinez, I think, about what we will need for Peppy’s travel. If we have to carry hay and water or if we will need ropes to tie him in place with. Gracious, there is so much I don’t know about travel.” A cloud of sadness crossed her battered face. “Your father always used to take care of everything like that, you know.”
Neither Angela nor Buddy had ever said much about the boy’s father, and Longarm hadn’t wanted to ask. Whatever the story was, it was a painful one for both of them. And apparently the man was dead, and not just a runaway who’d grown tired of the responsibilities of heading a family.
Longarm stood and, stretching, gave Buddy a wink. Angela had things under control here now, and Longarm was just underfoot.
Besides, the two of them had had their breakfast this morning, but Longarm never had gotten around to eating yet today. He figured he could walk down to the cafe—it was lunchtime and soon would be past that—for a bite. Then maybe he’d drop over to the saloon for something to settle his meal with.
After all, for the past couple days he’d been sitting there with a warm beer in front of him but hadn’t allowed himself a drop to drink. The way he saw it he was damn well entitled now if he wanted a shot to warm his belly and maybe a beer to chase that with.
He said his goodbyes—neither Angela nor Buddy seemed to notice that he was leaving, they were so wrapped up in their own excited plans—and wandered out into the sunlight of the early afternoon.
Chapter 33
Longarm sat in his usual spot—hell, he’d been in that same chair so much lately that anything else would’ve felt unnatural—with an empty shot glass and a half-full beer in front of him.
The rotgut whiskey still tasted like wildcat piss, but the beer was going down mighty nice. He lighted up one of his own good cheroots and leaned back to enjoy himself.