"One thing for sure," Longarm said. "If he had money, he wouldn't be supping on tinned goods. The man is a fraud."
Longarm searched through the clothes closet, the bathroom, the luggage, and even riffled the pages of several books. He found nothing that would incriminate Blake Huntington or in any way tie him to the train derailment.
"Damn!"
Longarm spied a trash basket filled with more whiskey bottles, a crumpled, week-old newspaper, and some more smelly food tins. Marshal Billy Vail had often preached that a lawman could find more evidence in a trash basket than almost any other place. Longarm carefully went through the contents, and only when he decided there was still nothing of interest and began to stuff everything back did he notice that the Laramie newspaper contained an advertisement for the Union Pacific, with a timetable for the service across the Laramie Summit to Cheyenne. The advertisement was boldly circled, and beside it were the penciled words "ELI AND DEPUTY."
Longarm's pulse quickened. These three words would not constitute evidence in a court of law, but they told Longarm that, without a shadow of doubt, Blake Huntington was a member of the train-robbing gang. That meant that Huntington was the only real link that Longarm now had with the gang, and that the man would have to be shadowed until more was revealed.
Longarm tore the page out, neatly folded it, and then stuffed it into his pocket. Satisfied that his inspection was complete, Longarm started for the door. Just as his hand clamped onto the knob, he heard the metallic click of a key being inserted in the outside lock.
Longarm whirled and sprang for the window. He tried to open it, but the thing was frozen shut. And even if it had been wide open it would have been a long, long drop to the alley below. He twisted to see the door handle turning, and heard Milly's forced laughter.
Longarm dove for the carpet. He rolled over onto his back, and barely managed to squeeze under the bed just as the door opened.
"Well, now!" the man said in his slightly British accent. "I can see that the hotel needs to get someone up here to do some housekeeping, don't they!"
"I'll say," Milly replied.
There was a moment of silence, and then the bedsprings groaned and sagged to rest against Longarm's chest. He heard the sound of kissing, and then felt the bedsprings moving as the couple began to roll around. Then heavy breathin , and then clothes hitting the floor.
Longarm ground his teeth and cursed himself for not leaving earlier. The last thing he wanted was to be under the bed while this pair coupled.
The bedsprings began to squeak and Longarm could hear Milly start to moan, and he knew from the sound of it that she was faking.
"Oh, baby," the Englishman panted. "What you got is what I want. Roll over."
"No," Milly said quite firmly.
"Aw, come on, beauty! You'll like it!"
"No, I won't! It hurts that way!"
Blake's voice hardened. "Just do it!!"
"No! Blake, stop it!"
Longarm heard fear in Milly's voice. She began to plead and then struggle with the man. The springs pressed down on Longarm as the pair fought, and when Longarm heard the sharp sound of flesh being struck by flesh, he knew that he could not remain a bystander any longer.
"Please!" Milly cried. "Please stop!"
"You bitch!"
Longarm tore a gash across his chest as he struggled out from under the bed. Blake Huntington was on top of Milly and she was bleeding from the mouth. Longarm jumped up, grabbed the naked man, and hurled him across the room to bounce against the far wall.
Blake Huntington was all man and all mad. Cursing and spitting, he charged Longarm with murder in his eyes. He drove a knee at Longarm's groin that was deflected. But before Longarm could smash Huntington, the man gouged his eye and tried to tear it out of its socket with his thumb.
Longarm struck out powerfully. His knuckles hit bare flesh. Huntington grunted in pain. He backed up, snatched a heavy water pitcher from the dresser, and charged Longarm with every intention of smashing his brains out. Longarm could have drawn his gun and shot the man, but he needed him alive. So he dove for Huntington's ankles. The Englishman's momentum carried him over Longarm and into the window.
The glass shattered and Huntington's scream was hideous, but it ended abruptly when he struck the alley below. Longarm jumped up and ran to the window. Blake Huntington was sprawled on his back, covered with glass and blood. His neck was twisted at a very unnatural angle and he was staring up at Longarm while his naked body twitched.
"Honey!" Milly cried. "He hurt me bad!"
Longarm was also in great pain. The vision in his left eye was blurry. He grabbed Milly's clothes and then pulled her to her feet. Wrapping a blanket around her, Longarm hissed, "Let's get to my room!"
Milly was sobbing, but she understood the sense of urgency. She snatched up an errant shoe and hurried after Longarm toward the door.
"It's too late," he said. The hallway was filled with people who had heard the screaming and yelling.
Longarm took a deep breath. He produced his badge and said in his most officious voice, "Everyone go back to your rooms! I'm United States Deputy Marshal Custis Long and everything is under control!"
He managed to reach his door and get it unlocked. "Get inside and get cleaned up," he told Milly. "I'll be along soon."
"But-"
"Just do it!"
He pushed Milly into his room, then slammed the door shut and used his key to lock it. Glaring at the other guests, Longarm repeated, "It's all under control! Now for the last time, get back into your rooms!"
Only one man stood firmly, Clarence Huntington, who had rushed up the stairs. "Where is Blake?"
Before Longarm could stop the man, Huntington barged into Blake's room. His eyes took in the scene, and came to rest on the shattered and bloodstained window.
"No," he whispered.
Longarm jumped into the room behind the man. "I'm a United States deputy marshal and your nephew was beating a woman to death. I tried to stop him and when he attacked, he accidentally tumbled through the window."
Clarence pivoted, and Longarm saw the old man dig into his coat pocket for what was almost sure to be a derringer. Longarm jumped forward. As the derringer came up, Longarm's fist exploded against Clarence's jaw. The old man's eyes crossed and he staggered. He was tough and he was game. Longarm had to hit him twice more: first a brutal uppercut to his protruding belly that lifted Clarence to his toes and turned his face fish-underbelly white, then a left hook that knocked Clarence halfway across the room before he struck the wall and collapsed in a semiconscious heap.
Longarm pressed the flat of his palm against his throbbing eye and walked heavily over to Clarence. "You're under arrest," he said to the old man. "For trying to shoot me and maybe for having something to do with the destruction of railroad property and the murder of innocent passengers."
Clarence Huntington roused himself to mutter something that was not complimentary. Longarm turned to the door. "Someone get me a pitcher of water!"
A moment later, Longarm had water. He poured some into his hand and splashed it into his injured eye. It felt soothing and when he squinted, he could see much better again. Longarm used the remainder of the water to pour over Clarence. The old man sputtered and spit.
"Come on," Longarm said, hauling Clarence to his feet. "You're going to jail."
Clarence stared at Longarm, and when he spoke, his voice was choked with hatred. "I swear that I'll see you in your grave, Deputy!"
"I doubt that," Longarm said. "I doubt that very much."
Clarence, in a fit of renewed vigor, kicked Longarm in the shin, and tried to break free until the lawman drew his Colt. "Keep it up," he said, "and I'll put a bullet in your knee so you can't possibly try and escape."
Clarence started to curse, but when he looked into Longarm's bloodshot eyes, the old Englishman had an abrupt change of heart.