Matador’s head passed Caesar’s shoulder, and then the two horses were running neck-and-neck as the finish line loomed right in front of them. With one final lunge, Matador extended himself, and although it was extremely close as the two horses flashed past the finish line, everyone in the stands knew who had won the race. It was Matador by a nose. Longarm whooped and thrust both clenched fists into the air. Padgett cursed loudly, fluently, and profanely. He snatched off his soft felt hat, threw it on the floor of the box, and stomped on it in sheer rage and frustration and disappointment. Longarm turned to him, ignoring the way Mercer was desperately shaking his head in warning, and clapped a hand on the senator’s shoulder. “Look at it this way, Senator,” Longarm said, “at least your horse came in second.”
“Second!” Padgett repeated in an injured tone at the top of his lungs. “What damned good is second place? I won last time. From here on out, if I don’t win I might as well come in last every time!”
Longarm just shook his head. He couldn’t understand that reasoning. Second place wasn’t bad—in anything except a gunfight.
“I’m going to congratulate the Cassidy sisters,” he said to Padgett. “Don’t you reckon you ought to come along?”
“I’m going to go fire Cy! He never should have made his move when he did. He should have waited and made Matador commit first.”
Longarm didn’t point out that Padgett had been yelling for Cy to bring Caesar on for several seconds before the jockey had actually done so. If Cy had not waited as long as he had, the race wouldn’t have even been close.
Padgett sighed heavily and reached down to pick up his trampled hat. He tried to push it back into some semblance of its normal shape, finally gave up in disgust, and jammed the hat into his pocket. “All right!” he said. “I suppose I have to be a gentleman about this. Let’s go down to the winner’s circle.”
Trailed by Mercer, Longarm and Padgett made their way through the crowd in front of the grandstand and reached the winner’s circle after several minutes. Janice and Julie were there, tears of joy streaming down their faces as they hugged Matador, their jockey, their trainer, and each other. All the other owners were on hand to congratulate the Cassidy sisters, and their good wishes and excitement seemed genuine. Everyone was glad to see the lovely young blondes win for a change. They all knew how hard Janice and Julie had worked for this.
Padgett leaned over and kissed each of the sisters on the cheek. “Congratulations, my dears,” he said over the hubbub surrounding them, “I’m glad Matador won.” The words didn’t sound like they choked him—too much.
Longarm threw his arms around Janice and Julie at the same time. “I told you it was Matador’s day,” he said. “And it’s your day too.”
“Thank you, Custis,” Julie said somewhat breathlessly, “I’m glad you’re here to share this with us.”
“So am I!” said Janice. She pulled Longarm’s mouth down to hers, and whoops and cheers went up from the crowd as she kissed him.
Grinning, Longarm stepped back to let the twins bask in their glory a little while longer. He hated to think about ruining this celebration for them, but he still had a job to do, and for his purposes, this was the best place to wrap it up.
He slid his left hand into the pocket of his coat while his right hovered near the center of his body, not far from the walnut grips of his .44. His coat was pushed back a little, giving him easy access to the cross-draw rig. With his left hand, he took a bundle of the counterfeit money from his pocket. He had slipped into the senator’s room earlier in the day while no one was around and removed it from the false bottom of Padgett’s valise.
“Senator,” he said loudly, “I think you lost something.”
Padgett turned toward him, a puzzled frown on his beefy face, and Longarm tossed the bundle of bills at him. Instinctively, Padgett reached up to catch the money and exclaimed, “What-“
Longarm drew the Colt, leveled it, and cocked it in the same motion. The sight of the gun brought startled curses from several of the horse owners and the other bystanders, and quite a few of them began scrambling backward to get out of the way of any gunfire. “Don’t move, Senator,” Longarm said as the winner’s circle practically cleared out around them. A few yards away, Janice and Julie Cassidy were staring at him in a mixture of confusion and horror, as was Leon Mercer.
Padgett recovered his tongue first. “What the bloody hell is this all about?” he demanded furiously. “Put that gun down, Marshal!”
Longarm shook his head slowly. “You’re under arrest, Senator, for murder, conspiracy, and possession of counterfeit money.”
“Counterfeit money? Possession? You threw it at me!”
Padgett shook the bundle of bills at Longarm, his hand trembling from the depth of his emotion.
“There’s plenty more where that came from, hidden in the false bottom of one of your bags.”
“That’s a lie! I never saw this money before, or any other counterfeit money!” Padgett drew his shoulders back and puffed up his chest. “Have you forgotten who you’re talking to, Marshal? By God, I’ll have your badge for this! I’m going to wire Marshal Vail right now-“
Padgett started to take a step forward, but Longarm pointed the muzzle of the .44 right at his forehead, making him come to an abrupt stop. “I know who I’m talking to,” Longarm said coolly. “I’m talking to a murdering bastard who used his positions—position the people of Colorado elected him to!—to organize a counterfeiting ring that could’ve brought the whole country’s economy crashing down if you hadn’t been stopped. Well, you have been stopped, here and now.” Longarm waggled the barrel of his pistol. “I know you’re carrying a gun, Senator. Take it out with your left hand, nice and easy, and put it on the ground.”
Leon Mercer took a step toward Longarm, saying, “Marshal, this is insane! The senator couldn’t have-“
“Back off, Leon, or I’ll crack this six-shooter right across that bald noggin of yours!”
Mercer’s eyes bugged out, and he stepped back with a frightened gulp.
Padgett regarded Longarm narrowly. “You’re going to regret this, Long,” he said. “You’re going to regret this more than anything you’ve ever done in your life.”
“I doubt it,” Longarm said with a smirk. “What I really regret is voting for you a time or two before, back when I didn’t know what a low-down skunk you really are.”
Goaded beyond endurance, Padgett let out a howl and flung the bundle of phony bills back at Longarm. He charged right behind the money, swinging a fist at the lawman’s head.
Longarm let the money bounce harmlessly off his chest and set his feet for the straight, hard punch he shot out with his left. His fist smashed into Padgett’s mouth and snapped the senator’s head back. Padgett flew backward, arms windmilling, and crashed down heavily on his rump. Blood welled between his fingers as he pressed his hand to his pulped lips and groaned thickly.
Longarm stepped over to him, bent, and jerked the little pistol from the holster under Padgett’s coat. “On your feet,” he said grimly as he stepped back again. “I reckon, Senator, that your next term’s going to be served behind bars.”
Chapter 12
Well, thought Longarm as he was leaving the Carson City jail an hour or so later, that had gone about as well as could be expected. The sheriff and the jailer had been mighty impressed by the fact that they now had an actual United States senator locked up in their hoosegow. “Don’t get used to it, boys,” Longarm had warned them. “Most of them politicians are just too damned slick for us poor lawmen to ever catch up to ‘em when they’re up to no good.”