Longarm slitted his eyes to picture a curtained buggy winding down a cinder lane on a dark night, and said, "All right. Let's assume she ran off with yet another lemon she aimed to squeeze. Knowing she wasn't with you, Homagy would have no call to doubt her confession naming me. I hate to have to tell you this, old son, but it looks as if she wasn't out to protect either of us."
"The scoundrel was a total stranger to everyone but Magda!" the Hungarian gasped in an injured tone.
Longarm said, "I wasn't finished. The cuss she rode off with in that covered buggy must have been known on Bohunk Hill. She'd have had no call to say he was me if he was a total stranger, right?"
Kun stared at Longarm with more respect and said, "You're good at what you do. I'm glad I don't have anything to hide from the law!" Longarm couldn't resist bringing up an under-aged miner's daughter. The Hungarian shrugged and said, "I understand such a charge would have to be made by the girl's legal guardian, no?"
Longarm grimaced and declared, "That's the way they wrote the state laws. Fortunately for you, I have no jurisdiction unless you screw her on an Indian or military reservation. How does her father feel about them buggy rides, since you brought up your own sterling character?"
Kun shrugged and quietly said he'd had no complaints from any of the greenhorns around Trinidad.
Longarm said, "That Artichoke King in New Orleans had everybody scared skinny too, until some of 'em had had enough and started to whisper to the law. If I was you I'd keep it in mind that little Eva Nagy could cost you some time in the Las Animas County Jail if her dad could get up the balls to press charges."
Zoltan Kun shrugged smugly and said, "He won't. In the old country it was understood that my kind did his kind a great honor by breaking in their maidens for them."
Longarm swore under his breath, and rose to leave before he gave in to temptation. He'd never laid eyes on any of the Bohunk gals this greasy lothario had trifled with. So he knew it might not be fair to pistol-whip the oily asshole without anyone asking. He handed back the sissy cut-crystal glass, saying they had nothing more to cover, and headed for his own lonely room feeling frustrated more ways than one.
CHAPTER 21
The next morning Longarm hired a different pony and the same saddle to ride out to the scene of his own supposed crimes.
You got to the coal mining country west of Trinidad by following the one narrower trail along the Purgatoire River, named after the Purgatory English speakers didn't want to go to, by the same Spanish-speaking folks from New Mexico who'd spelled Trinity as Trinidad. The original wagon trace had been widened and cinder-paved, while a spur line of the Santa Fe ran along the north bank as far as the coal tipples forty miles up the valley. The railroads hauled way more coal than they used. Colorado's coking coal was just right for steel-making and commanded top prices, which was just as well when anyone considered how tough it was to get it out from under the Rocky Mountains. The Colorado coal seams were skimpy and bent out of shape, next to the coal beds east of the Mississippi. So the coal-mining communities of the West were smaller and more scattered than back East in Penn State or West-by-God-Virginia. Mining for anything in the crumpled up bedrock of the Rockies left countless try-holes and played-out mines all along the backbone of the continent, with coal, stone quarries, and such in the foothills and metals from gold to lead at higher elevations, where the bedrock was really from deeper down. The Indians said Real Bear had made the Shining Mountains by ripping the earth's belly all out of shape with his mighty claws. Something had surely turned a heap of bedrock inside out up this way.
Longarm found his way to the immigrant settlement known as Bohunk Hill to real Americans of, say, High Dutch or Irish extraction. When he tried to ask some kids poking at a dead cat where the Homagy house might be, they stuck their tongues out at him and ran away.
He had somewhat better luck with an older woman, dressed sort of like a Gypsy fortune-teller but shelling peas instead of reading tea leaves on her front steps.
She allowed she spoke English, sort of, and knew where the Homagy house had been. Then she said, "Other peoples live there now. Attila Homagy quit at Black Diamond to go look for wife, Magda."
The crone made an even uglier face and added, "Magda no good. Her man fool for worrying about she. People moving into house after they gone named Gero. They just get here. No speak English. Never knew Attila Homagy or crazy Magda."
Longarm dismounted anyway, saying, "I'd best lead this pony up the narrow lanes on foot. I'll take your word there's no sense looking for folks in a house they've both moved away from. I understand Miss Magda ran off with some American cuss in a covered buggy?"
The neighborhood gossip cracked open another pea pod as she shook her head and said, "Nobody knows who she ran away with. Some said it was important Magyar she'd been flirting with. But he is still around, flirting with little girl he should leave alone. Is not right to bus children no matter what their fathers say!"
Longarm said, "I was just about to ask the way to the Nagy place, ma'am. If I can't talk to Zoltan Kun's older sweetheart, I might be able to get something out of his new gal."
The old woman looked stricken, muttered to herself in Magyar, and said, "You never heard any of those names from me. You can't talk to either of the Nagy women in English. Neither one of them speaks one word of it. Bela Nagy would be over at the Black Diamond at this time of day. He is in charge of the coal-tram crew. You will have to wait until he gets off, after sunset, if you want to talk to him in English."
Longarm thanked her for the information, led his livery mount in a tight circle, and remounted to ride out of the hillside cluster.
He circled it, asking more directions from more sensible kids, and it only took him a few minutes to make it to the tipples, shacks, and adit of the Black Diamond Mine.
He dismounted out front of their office shack. A burly gent in a clean blue work shirt came out as he was tethering the pony to an iron-pipe hitching rail. Longarm flashed his badge and identification as he said he was there for just a word with Bela Nagy if it was jake with them.
The shift foreman replied in an American accent, "I'll send for him. You just come on inside and have a seat, Deputy Long."
Longarm allowed he'd been down in coal mines before. But the shift foreman shook his gray head and said, "We've even had our own help get lost in there. We're producing bituminous that bursts into flame if you just ask polite. But some of the damned seams are less than a yard thick and the whole formation's crumpled like tinfoil. Take one wrong turn and you can wind up lost forever."
He cupped a hand to his mouth and called out to a kid near the tracks leading into the gaping adit. When the kid headed their way, the foreman told him to go down Drift Nine and fetch old Bela Nagy.
As the kid strode away along the tracks, Longarm followed the easygoing foreman inside. They both sat down and before Longarm could even start to offer, the mining man broke open a box of Tampa Coronas. So Longarm had to settle for lighting them both up.
As he did so he asked about Attila Homagy in a desperately non-caring way. The foreman didn't sound any more excited as he calmly replied, "Good blaster. Couldn't manage his young wife. We were sorry to see him go. Told him there'd always be a job for him here if he ever got tired of tilting at windmills."
The American mining man took a drag on his cigar and added, "Old Attila moved coal like a sculptor carving marble. You have to know how to set your charges if you aim to shatter the coal face without bringing down the shale ceiling. Homagy has that rare touch. I swear he could carve his initials with dynamite and dust off the furniture in your parlor without busting a window!"