“Yeah. I owe you, Jason.”
“Don’t mention it. Lucky I seen the sunlight flash on his barrel as he was fixing to do you. Anyone you know?”
“They called him Curley. He was a friend of the one I got last night. I’ll be surprised as hell if he don’t have a record, too.”
By now Chadwick had joined them, peeking around the corner to gasp, “Jesus H. Christ! How many of these hired guns do you figure we have in Switchback, Longarm?”
“Don’t know. I make it two less, right now. I’ll get him out of there in a minute. Right now I owe Jason, here, a drink. He just saved my ass.”
Chadwick followed them to the saloon, as did the hat shop owner and a dozen others in the neighborhood who’d heard the shooting and wanted to steady their nerves.
The scout didn’t seem to think he’d done all that much, considering, but he let Longarm buy, muttering something about the way the army paid folks, these days. As they leaned against the bar together, Longarm said, “It’s lucky I found you in town. I mean, aside from what you just did for me. I’ve been meaning to ask some questions about the army’s interest in the Blackfoot.”
“Hell, they ain’t all that interested, Longarm. Beats me why we’re here. Likely Washington just figures soldiers’ve got to be some durned place if they ain’t another.”
“You been getting anything on expected Indian trouble?”
“From the Blackfoot? They were ornery enough, a few years back. Ain’t lifted anybody’s hair for a coon’s age, though. They were rooting for Red Cloud back in ‘76, but only a few kids really rode with the Sioux. The old men kept most of the tribe back, playing close to the vest till they saw which way the cards were stacked. It’s a small tribe, but they bled enough for a big one in the Shining Times.”
“Were you out here then? You don’t look old enough to go back to the beaver trade.”
“I ain’t. Came West as a hide hunter after the War. Knew some of the old Mountain Men, though. Most of ‘em’s getting on in years, now, but my first boss hunter was left over from the Shining Times. Used to brag on a Blackfoot arrow he still carried in his hide.”
“You ever hear mention of a breed called Johnny Hunts Alone?”
“Hell, I know him. He skinned for me five or six years ago, down by the Powder River. Wasn’t very good at it, though. He was sort of a lazy, moody cuss.”
“Damn! You’re the first man I’ve met who can tell me what he looks like, then!”
Jason stared soberly at his drink and said, “Maybe. But he never done me enough harm to mention, Longarm. How important are the papers you might have on him?”
“I could lie and say I just wanted to talk to your old sidekick, but you just saved my ass, so I won’t. Telling it true, I aim to take him in dead or alive on a murder warrant, Jason.”
The scout shifted uncomfortably. “You’re giving me a hard row to hoe. Johnny once talked some roving Sioux out of taking my hair.”
Longarm shrugged. “I can’t make you tell me, but-“
“But you can likely make me wish to God I had, huh? All right. As long as I was fool enough to allow I knew him, and seeing he ain’t around Switchback anyway, he’s maybe half a head shorter than me and looks like what he is—half white, half Blackfoot.”
“Can’t you do better than that?”
“He’s only got one head, damn it. He’s just another breed. Maybe younger than me and not as pretty. Oh, he does walk with a limp. I disremember which leg—he got shot one time. To tell you the truth, we never jawed much. He was a quiet, moody cuss, like I said. Never killed anybody while I rode with him, though.”
“The limp’s the only thing I don’t have on my papers, so I owe you another drink. Chief Real Bear told us Hunts Alone was on the reservation.”
“Maybe he is. I’m buying this round.”
“You said he looks half white. The Indian police say they know all the breeds out there and none of them is him. You figure Real Bear could have lied for some reason?”
“Beats me. I didn’t know the man. I’ve jawed with a few Blackfoot since they sent me out here, but I’d be lying if I said I knew any of ‘em well.”
“You talk their lingo?” Longarm asked.
“Not enough to matter. I’m pretty good in Sioux and I can make myself understood in the sign lingo all the plains tribes use. Blackfoot’s sort of like Cheyenne, ain’t it?”
“Just about the same. You said Johnny Hunts Alone talks Sioux as well as Blackfoot, right?”
“Oh, that old boy could pow-wow fierce,” Jason said. “He’d have made one hell of a scout if he hadn’t took to robbing and such. We figured he had something gnawing at him, but like I said, he was only after buffalo when we rode together.”
Longarm picked up the fresh drink the bartender had put before him and said, “I’d like you to think about this before you answer, Jason. If you were to see Hunts Alone before I did-“
“I’d warn him,” said the scout, flatly. Then he added, “I’d tell him you were after him and give him a head start for old times’ sake. Then I’d come and tell you true which way he’d lit out. I don’t like being in the middle like this, but we’re both working for Uncle Sam, so I’d do both duties as best I could. If that sticks in your craw, I’m sorry as all hell, but that’s the way I am.”
“A man has to stick by old friends, as long as he don’t get crazy on the subject. Let me ask you one more question and have done with it. If I was to come on the two of you together, how big a slice of the pie would you be expecting?”
Jason took a swallow of his drink and said, “That’s a pisser, ain’t it?”
“Yeah, but I’d like an honest answer.”
“Well, to be honest, I don’t know. I can’t see gunning you. I reckon I’d likely stand aside.”
“That’s good enough, Jason. Naturally, if you saw me coming before Johnny did, you’d likely mention my intentions to him?”
“Yep, I likely would. After that, the two of you would be on your own.”
The officious Sheriff Murphy had circled back from wherever he’d hidden to take command once the smell of gunsmoke had faded away. Longarm was only too happy to leave him with the disposal of the bodies after wiring Denver where to send the reward for Fats. He knew Billy Vail would be discreet about bruiting Roping Sally’s name and address about.
Longarm, as a federal employee, couldn’t claim the reward for Curley. Jason said he didn’t want blood money, so Longarm let Murphy put in a claim. If he ever got it, he’d likely brag on shooting outlaws into the next century, but what the hell—the poor idiot needed some brag to go with his badge.
Longarm hauled the mortal remains of Spotted Beaver back to the reservation for another interesting funeral. He arrived a little after one in the afternoon to discover some changes had taken place.
Prudence Lee had set up shop in the late Real Bear’s house and was beating a drum and shaking a tambourine for some reason that Longarm didn’t go over to find out. He joined Calvin and Nan Durler in the agency kitchen after giving the body to Spotted Beaver’s kin.
He sat at the kitchen table and lit a cheroot as he told the Durlers about the interesting times he’d been having since last they’d been together. He didn’t imagine they were interested in Roping Sally, but he told them everything else.