"A fatal dose of lead poisoning?" the telegraph operator asked with raised eyebrows.
"Just send the message, okay?"
"Sure thing."
Once his telegram had been sent, Longarm hurried outside. He considered visiting the sheriff, who was his friend, but when he passed by the man's office, it was locked and empty.
Longarm was amazed at how Rock Springs was growing. The streets were filled with wagons and pedestrians. And while there were some ranches and farms in the neighborhood, as evidenced by a handful of cowboys, Rock Springs was unquestionably a railroad town. Its coal mines, owned by the Union Pacific, were among the largest west of the Mississippi River and of vital importance to keeping the railroad moving. Because of the prominence of coal mining, there were huge open-pit mines nearby and dozens of spur tracks leading off to those gaping pits.
Like Laramie and Cheyenne, Rock Springs could boast a colorful past. In 1861, a Pony Express rider, detouring to escape marauding Indians, had discovered the sweet-water springs flowing out of a massive rock formation. This had given Rock Springs its name. Later, the site became a stage station, and when the Union Pacific arrived, the town had already mushroomed into one of the largest in the territory, and boasted a growing population and evidence of continuing prosperity.
About ten years earlier, a significant Chinese population had been recruited to Rock Springs by its mine owners in order to defeat a miners' strike. Longarm recalled that a mob of whites had soon attacked and pillaged the thriving Chinatown and set it on fire. The leaders of the mob had put a twenty-dollar bounty on every Chinaman, and six hundred dollars had been claimed before the Governor of Wyoming had sent federal troops in to stop further loss of life among the terrified Chinese. Now, as Longarm hurried up K Street, he could see that Chinatown had been rebuilt larger than ever.
"I want a bath and a shave," Longarm told the Chinaman in the barbershop.
The man bowed and hurried away, his long, braided queue bobbing like a cork on a fishing line. In minutes, Longarm was soaking in a copper tub while the Chinaman washed, dried, and pressed his clothes, then poured Longarm a cup of delicious herb tea and waited to give him the finest shave of his life.
Two hours later and only a dollar shorter, Longarm returned to board the train. He caught his reflection in the train windows, and was satisfied that he was looking almost human again.
Veronica barely recognized Longarm when he took his seat. "What a difference two hours can make!" she exclaimed. "How could you get so much done in such a short time?"
"The Chinese are amazing people," Longarm explained. "They can do miracles and are extremely quick and efficient."
Veronica smiled. "I have to admit that I didn't realize how handsome a man you are, Custis."
"I hope that we have a chance to become better acquainted in Reno."
"I doubt that will be possible."
"Oh?"
"You told me that there was another train wreck at Donner Pass. I'm sure that every bit of your time and energy will be directed toward that terrible crime."
"Well, it will," he said quickly. "But these things don't usually take forever to clear up. I was thinking about afterward."
"Afterward what?"
Longarm took Veronica's hand. "Afterward we might go for a long buggy ride and then have dinner."
"That would be lovely... if it's all that you have in mind."
He decided to act mildly offended. "Why, Miss Greenwald! Whatever are you trying to say?"
"I'm trying to say that when you fell asleep this afternoon you had what appeared to be a very... stimulating dream."
"I did?"
"Yes. Very! You were calling a woman by name."
"I was?" Longarm could feel his cheeks warming.
"A Miss Martha Noble... at first."
Longarm gulped. "You mean there were others?"
"Oh, yes! Surely the name of a woman named Milly is enough to quicken your desire, eh, Mr. Long?"
Longarm sighed. There was really nothing he could say, so he excused himself and went for a short walk and to smoke a cheroot. Maybe by the time they arrived in Reno, Miss Greenwald would be inclined to forget about his amorous past.
CHAPTER 14
When the train finally pulled into Reno, a federal marshal was standing in the depot waiting for Longarm. His tone and manner were decidedly unfriendly. "Custis Long?" he asked around a wad of chewing tobacco.
"That's my name." Longarm said, noting the man's badge and the worn six-gun strapped low on his hip. Longarm stuck out his hand.
The marshal ignored the offered handshake. He was a big, heavy-set man with muttonchop whiskers and a potbelly. He had deep-set eyes and a fist-busted nose. Longarm pegged him for a one-time rounder.
Spitting a long stream of tobacco juice onto the depot floor, the marshal barked, "Follow me."
Longarm bristled, taking an instant dislike to this man. People who knew Longarm quickly learned that a smile and a request would work wonders, but that a command would have quite the opposite reaction. "I'll be along soon enough."
"You'll come now!"
Longarm smiled, but there was no warmth in his expression when he drawled, "The hell you say."
The marshal had been about to turn and lead them out of the throng of milling train passengers, their friends, and their families when Longarm's words pulled him up short.
"Listen to me," the marshal said, swinging around and jabbing a finger at Longarm. "You may be someone out in Colorado. I don't know and I don't care. But this is Nevada and you're going to be working for me and taking my orders. And the first order is get your skinny ass moving and follow me!"
Longarm glanced over at Veronica Greenwald, who was standing nearby and gave him a nervous smile. Longarm had promised to wait and make sure that there was someone to greet Veronica from the new school where she was supposed to work. Unfortunately, it didn't look like anyone had bothered to welcome her to the West and serve as her escort.
"What's your name, Marshal?" Longarm said, turning his attention back to the big man.
"Denton. Bill Denton. Now-"
Longarm cut the man off short. "Well, Denton, you see this young schoolmarm waiting for someone to greet her?"
Denton scowled at Veronica. "Yeah. What about her?"
"I'm going to help her find the school where she is starting a new teaching job."
Denton exploded. "Don't you understand English? I said you're coming with me right now!"
Longarm gave up on the big fool. He turned on his heel toward Veronica, but Denton grabbed him by the shoulder and spun him around.
Longarm drove a powerful uppercut to Denton's protruding gut. The marshal was caught flat-footed with surprise. His mouth, twisted in anger, formed a big circle, and his eyes bugged as he sucked for air and tried to recover.
Longarm hit him again. And again. Denton weighed in at least fifty pounds heavier than Longarm, who was not about to give the marshal a chance to recover. The crowd parted like the Red Sea as Longarm drove Denton into a retreat across the depot floor. Each time the marshal tried to plant his feet and retaliate, Longarm's fist hammered his jaw or turned his big gut to jelly. Denton's nose cracked and flowed heavily. His lips were soon mashed to pulp, and one of his eyebrows was ripped by a slashing right uppercut. He was grunting with each blow, and when Longarm drew back and smashed him one final time, Denton flew off the baggage loading dock and landed on his back between two carriages waiting for hire.
"You all right, Marshal?" Longarm asked, flexing his fingers and then massaging his bruised knuckles as he gazed down at the man.
Denton wasn't all right. Longarm's blows had left his face a misshapen mass of welts and bruises. Furthermore, though his fall from the loading dock hadn't been a long one, only about four feet, the impact of his landing had emptied the last bit of oxygen from Denton's lungs. Bloodied, dazed, and unable to get his breath, Marshal Denton was a tragic sight as he lay between two spooked carriage horses who snorted and rolled their eyes in fear and suspicion.