Once they had settled down in the compartment, Padgett gave Longarm a cigar, and they both lit up. “Havana,” Padgett said, exhaling and wreathing his head in the blue-gray smoke. “Fine, don’t you think, Marshal?”
“Well, it’s different from those three-for-a-nickel cheroots I usually chew on,” allowed Longarm. “Much obliged, Senator.”
“Why don’t you call me Miles?”
The jovial offer of familiarity had a hollow ring to it, Longarm decided. Like most politicians, Padgett liked to fancy himself a man of the people, just one of the boys, but he actually enjoyed the respect and deference that came with his office. “I reckon Billy Vail would rather I kept things more businesslike between us, Senator—but that doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate the smoke.”
Padgett chuckled. “That’s all right, Marshal. Whatever you think is best.”
Longarm and Padgett were facing each other across the compartment. Mercer sat beside Longarm on the padded bench seat. He had a small valise perched on his lap, and he opened it now to withdraw a sheaf of papers. “I really think you should go over these reports, Senator,” he said. “The bills to which they pertain will be coming up for a vote shortly after Congress convenes again in the fall.”
Padgett waved the hand holding the Havana cigar, leaving a trail of smoke in the air. “There’ll be plenty of time for that later, Leon. Marshal Long, do you really think there’s a chance someone will try to kill me again?”
Longarm shook his head and said, “Doesn’t matter what I think. It’s what Marshal Vail thinks that’s important.”
“Yes, but you must have an opinion,” Padgett pressed.
“Anytime a fella takes a shot at somebody and misses, there’s always a chance he’ll try again. Of course, there’s also a chance that the one time will be the only one he can work up enough gumption for. All I know, Senator, is that you being around all these crowded racetracks will give the fella plenty of opportunity to try again if that’s what he wants.”
Padgett nodded solemnly. “You’re saying that I ought to stop traveling the racing circuit.”
Longarm shrugged and said, “It’s a thought. You might be safer holed up somewhere.”
A bark of contemptuous laughter came from the senator. “Not likely! A man can’t be timid in my line of work, just as he can’t afford to be timid in yours, Marshal. I have to be out there in front, taking care of my business for all the world to see. Otherwise how can I expect the voters to trust me to take care of the government’s business?”
Longarm inclined his head in acknowledgment of Padgett’s argument. “So you intend to follow the circuit the whole way?”
“All the way to Denver,” confirmed Padgett. He puffed on the cigar. “And I intend for Caesar to win some of the races along the way too.”
“It might help if Cy paid more attention to his job,” muttered Leon Mercer.
Longarm and Padgett both looked at him in surprise. “Why, Leon,” said Padgett, “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you speak ill of anyone. What have you got against Cy?”
“Nothing really, Senator,” Mercer replied quickly. “I’m just not sure he’s as devoted to winning as you are. I’ve no doubt he’s back in one of the baggage cars with the other jockeys right now, drinking and gambling.”
“A man’s got a right to associate with his cronies,” Padgett said.
Mercer sniffed. “I suppose so. But it seems to me he could devote more time to his job.”
“Cy likes to gamble and knock back a drink or two, eh?” said Longarm.
Mercer held up his hands, palms out, and said, “I shouldn’t say any more. This … this horse-racing business is none of my concern anyway. I’ve never understood the appeal of watching horses run around and around a track.”
Padgett gave another burst of gravelly laughter. “You’re just not a competitor, Leon.”
“No, sir, I suppose not. Except when it comes to winning elections.”
Longarm had the fancy cigar smoked down to a butt. He put it out in the little keg of sand underneath the compartment’s window and looked out at the night. There wasn’t much to see from here. He stood, stretching his muscles, and said, “Think I’ll take a pass up and down a couple of these cars, just to make sure everything’s quiet. Lock the door behind me, Senator, and don’t open it to anybody except me. I shouldn’t be gone long.”
Padgett nodded. “All right, Marshal. Don’t worry, though. If there is any trouble, I think we can handle it.”
With that, he dropped one eyelid in a wink and pulled his coat back a little. Longarm saw the little pistol hanging in a shoulder rig under the senator’s left arm. The lawman rubbed his nose to hide the grimace that played quickly across his face. A gun in the hands of a politician was enough to make a fella uneasy. They shot themselves in the foot with their mouths all the time; hard to imagine what damage they might do with an actual firearm.
Longarm nodded and left the compartment. There was nothing else he could do. He was certain he wouldn’t be able to talk Padgett into giving up the gun. But it was highly unlikely anything was going to happen, at least tonight.
The senator’s private compartment was at one end of a passenger car. Longarm moved down the aisle of the rest of the car, heading toward the rear of the train. The lamps had been turned down, and some of the passengers were already asleep, swaying slightly on the benches from the gentle rocking of the train.
Longarm reached the door at the other end of the car and stepped out onto the platform. Fresh, cool air buffeted his face. This car was far enough back from the engine so that cinders and smoke weren’t too bothersome. Longarm inhaled deeply.
The tracks ran just west of the Rio Grande along this stretch. From time to time, the train passed a little cluster of lights that marked one of the farming communities populated mostly by Mexicans. As Longarm stood there enjoying the night air, the tracks began to climb to the pass between the Gallinas Mountains to the west and Gran Quivera to the east. He could see the peaks bulking up darkly in the moonlight. New Mexico wasn’t his favorite place in the world, but it did have a certain appeal to it, especially on a night like this with silvery illumination from the moon and stars washing down over the starkly beautiful terrain. It was almost enough to make him forget about the bloody failure of his mission back in Albuquerque.
The door to the next car opened, and Longarm turned his head. A woman’s voice said, “My, it’s lovely out here, isn’t it?”
Longarm’s fingers ticked the brim of his hat. “Miss Janice,” he said by way of greeting. “Or is it Miss Julie?” To tell the truth, he wasn’t sure which of the Cassidy twins had just joined him on the platform, and he didn’t see any point in lying about it.
The lovely young woman, whoever she was, laughed softly and closed the door to the other car. She moved over to the platform railing beside Longarm. “It’s Julie,” she said. “How are you, Marshal Long?”
“Just fine, I reckon. Getting a breath of fresh air.”
“That’s what I’m doing too. Those train compartments get a little stuffy.”
“You and your sister have a private compartment?” One of Longarm’s eyebrows lifted in speculation, but it was unlikely Julie would see that in the shadows.
“Janice doesn’t particularly like to travel with what she’d call the rabble,” Julie said.
“But you don’t mind.”
She shrugged prettily. “I get along with all sorts of people. In fact, I’d rather spend my time with horse trainers than some of the society types Janice tends to cultivate.”
Longarm leaned on the railing and chuckled. “I reckon I’d fall into the category of rabble.”
“Oh, but that wouldn’t stop Janice from liking you, Marshal.” Julie touched his arm lightly. “When it comes to tall, handsome men, Janice is positively egalitarian.”