"Then I can help you find a decent place to room until you can find another job."
"But what if I can't find one?"
"You will," Longarm assured her, though he had no idea what he was talking about. But Veronica looked so devastated that he added, "Why, a good schoolteacher is as prized in Nevada as squirrel eggs!"
"Squirrels don't lay eggs," she sniffled.
He used the cuff of his sleeve to dry her cheeks. "I know. That's why they're prized."
Veronica tried to laugh, but failed miserably. "Come on," Longarm said. "I know a lady who will take you into her home. She's a fine person and you'll be welcome until we can figure out exactly what you want to do."
"I'm worried about you losing your job. You should be doing something better than squiring me around."
"Mrs. Appleton lives just a few blocks away. She's a widow with a great and generous heart. You'll love her and she'll enjoy your company."
"You are such a sweet, dear man," Veronica said, kissing his cheek. "I don't know how I can ever repay your kindness."
"Oh, I imagine that I'll think of something," he said with a happy smile.
Betsy Appleton had been a madam for many years, but Longarm did not think he ought to mention that. She'd been very successful, saved some money, and invested a good deal more. She lived in a huge Victorian home on Fourth Street, not far from the Truckee River. It was a beautiful home, but Betsy had a soft spot for abandoned cats, dogs, and girls in just that order. The last time Longarm had visited Betsy, the old gal had had twenty-three cats and seven dogs, none of them housebroken.
"What's that smell?" Veronica asked as they mounted Betsy Appleton's huge veranda.
"Aw, she keeps a few cats and dogs inside."
This fact was vociferously confirmed a moment after Longarm knocked. All the dogs and cats set up a deafening chorus.
"I'm not sure about this," Veronica said with growing apprehension.
"You don't even notice the noise or smell after a few hours," Longarm assured her. "And Betsy sure could use some help feeding and cleaning up after them."
"Custis!"
Veronica would have turned and bolted away, except that Longarm grabbed and held her until Betsy opened her door.
"Custis!"
"Betsy, darlin'," he said, stepping up to give the sweet old gal a big hug and kiss on the cheek.
"And who is this lovely child?"
"Miss Veronica Greenwald, and she needs a little help right now, Betsy. Do you think she could stay until she finds a teaching job?"
Betsy was now in her sixties, but her skin was creamy smooth and her eyes were bright and trusting. "Why, of course! I'm sure that she'll love the children."
As they walked into the parlor, Betsy's "children" swarmed all around them. Big dogs. Little dogs. Pretty dogs. But mainly mangy dogs. Barking and yapping, with the cats in the background meowing. It was a real menagerie, and the odor of cat and dog droppings was almost overpowering.
"Of course she'll love your children, Betsy!" Longarm exclaimed, feeling light-headed in the closed room. "Why, Veronica was just telling me as we walked over here how much she loved animals."
"What a kind soul!" Betsy looked at Veronica. "What a dear heart you are. We shall become very good friends."
"I'm sure," Veronica said as a big, black dog began to lick her ankles, causing her to jump about like a car pet flea.
"Well, I have to run," Longarm hollered over the noise. "But I'll be back before you know it."
"Custis!"
Longarm could not bear to see Veronica's desperate expression, so he whirled and ran. He told himself that at least Veronica would be safe with Betsy Appleton, and might even be able to establish some control over the animals and housebreak them.
In any event, Veronica would have plenty of Betsy's "children" to teach.
CHAPTER 15
Longarm found Marshal Bill Denton's office, and checked to make sure that his gun was resting easy in its holster before he entered.
Denton wasn't in sight, but there was a young deputy on duty, and when he saw Longarm stroll through the door he paled.
"Hello there, young fella!" Longarm flashed his badge. "Deputy Marshal Custis Long from the Denver office. And what would your name be?"
The deputy, who had been reclining in an office chair, jumped to his feet, hand moving toward his six-gun.
"Whoa!" Longarm called, his own gun flashing up to draw a bead on the man. "Now what the hell is the matter with you? Haven't we got enough trouble with train robbers without trying to shoot each other?"
The deputy gulped. He was a tall, gangly fella with peach fuzz on his pimpled cheeks and a protruding Adam's apple that was bobbing up and down with fear.
"Yes, sir!"
"Well, then, sit back down and let's get acquainted," Longarm said, returning his six-gun to its holster and resting his Winchester against a wall. "Where is Marshal Denton?"
"He's in the hospital, Mr. Long! You beat the shit out of him and when he fell off that loading dock, he screwed up his back."
"Damn," Longarm said, "I am genuinely sorry about that. I hope he isn't froze up or anything."
"No, he's not froze but he's in some pain. Doctor says you also broke his nose and cracked his jaw. He's going to be out of commission for a couple of months."
"Damn," Longarm repeated. "I didn't realize that he'd taken that fight so hard."
"What fight? From what I hear, he never got in a punch. And believe me, no one has ever whipped Marshal Denton in a fair fight."
"There isn't such a thing as a 'fair fight,' " Longarm said. "I'll bet you that Marshal Denton has pistol-whipped plenty of men or dropped them with a single punch."
"Yeah, sure! But he's the marshal!"
"He was in serious need of a lesson in manners," Longarm said. "You see, we're all in this together. And unless a man who wears the badge proves himself incompetent or corrupt, there's an unspoken rule that we treat each other with courtesy and respect. Your marshal broke that rule, and when he laid his hand on me, I had little choice but to teach him a hard, hard lesson."
"Well, he's going to kill you when he can get up and walk."
Longarm clucked his tongue. "I don't know how men like Denton ever last in government service. And as for 'killing me,' well, I'll just face that if and when it happens."
"It'll happen."
"Maybe." Longarm sat down heavily. "I always thought that a man should not worry too much about the future. Most of our fears never materialize. Those that do aren't ever as bad as we expect them to be."
Longarm smiled disarmingly. "Now, what is your name?"
"Deputy Ronald Dudley."
"Glad to meet you, Ron. We have our work cut out for us on this railroad case. Have you been up to Donner Pass to see the damage?"
"No. The marshal told me that he was going to go up there with you, but ... well, he won't be even getting out of the hospital for a while."
"the man should have been up there hours after the wreck, looking for clues or leads."
"Reno is a pretty wild town, Mr. Long."
"Custis. You call me Custis."
"Yes, sir. Well, Custis, there are just the two of us and this is a tough town."
"No tougher than Rock Springs or Cheyenne and they only have one lawman." Longarm frowned. "Ron, we need to get up to Donner Pass first thing. When does the next train leave?"
"In about fifteen minutes. It's the same one that you rode in on. It's still got to get over the hump before it ends its run in Sacramento."
Longarm was hungry and tired, but he knew that he could not afford to delay this trip for even a day. "Grab your coat and let's go, Ron.
"I can't leave here now! There's no one else to keep a lid on this town! Why, what if someone robbed the bank? Or there was a murder?"
"If it happens, it happens and we'll just have to take care of it when we return."
"Dammit! I just can't go!"
Longarm could see that the young man was determined to remain at his desk no matter what. "All right," he said, "I'll go on up myself and see if there is anything left worth noting. Have you had any snow or rain since the derailment?"