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He waited politely until the Indian agent wrapped it around his own shins and was frowning down at the results before he asked quietly, “Are you trying to hogtie yourself, Cal?”

The agent grinned sheepishly and said, “It looks so easy when you fellows do it. What am I doing wrong, Longarm?”

“Don’t know. What in thunder are you aiming to do?” Longarm chuckled.

Durler untangled the gray rope from his legs and answered, “I’m trying to learn to twirl a lassoo, of course. What’s so funny?”

Longarm got to his feet, saying, “You can’t twirl a throw rope put together like that, Cal.”

Durler held the length of limp clothesline out, saying, “I know I can’t, damn it. Will you show me how you’d do it?”

Longarm shook his head as he took the improvised reata, explaining, “No mortal born of woman can twirl this thing, Cal. You’ve just made a slipknot for your noose. Every kid who ever played cowboy has made a creation like this. As you can see, they don’t twirl for shit.”

“Come on, I know there’s a knack to it, but I’ve seen you old-timers do it and-“

“Damn it, Cal, you’re not paying attention. You got any bailing wire?”

“Sure. There’s a coil on that nail near the screen door.”

Longarm spotted the coil of thin iron wire and stepped over to it, saying, “We have to do something about the way you hold a gun on a gent, too. That settler would have gone for you, had you been alone.”

Durler watched as Longarm broke off about eighteen inches of bailing wire and then, not having any idea what the lawman was doing as he started fooling with the end of the rope, Durler said, “You told me you let him off easy because he was harmless, Longarm.”

“No man is harmless. He just wasn’t worth my time. Takes months to get a cow thief in front of a judge, so most folks just shoot ‘em and the hell with it. I didn’t think he was worth a killing. Not if he heeds my neighborly advice, at least.”

“All right,” Durler said in an exasperated “what did I do wrong over there with my gun?” tone.

Longarm finished wrapping the slipknot in wire before he said, “I’ll get to guns in a minute. You see what I’ve done here? Your noose runs through what we call the honda on a throw rope. It has to be heavy, like the sinker on a fish line, if YOU want the rope to follow where it’s aimed.”

Longarm shook out a modest loop of the limp line and started to twirl it. “You see? The loop part’s trailing after the heavy honda, the way smoke trails behind a locomotive’s smokestack. Most folks think the loop’s some sort of hoop, but it ain’t. You don’t twirl the loop. You twirl the weighted honda and the rest just follows natural.”

He suddenly reversed his wrist action, swinging the honda in a figure-eight as the rope drew a pretty pattern in the air between them. Longarm said, “We call this the butterfly. You can’t hardly catch anything with it, but it’s good for showing off if gals are looking.

Durler laughed and said, “You know, I think I see how you’re doing that!”

“There you go. Want to try her?”

He handed the rope to the agent and watched as Durler made a brave try. The loop stayed open for a few rotations and then, as Durler laughed in pleased surprise, wrapped itself around his waist.

Longarm said, “We’d best add some weight. Knew a Mexican fancy roper once, who used lead sinkers braided into his leather reata.”

Durler handed back the rope and Longarm started wrapping more bailing wire around the improvised honda. As he worked, the agent said, “Let’s get back to my gunmanship, Longarm. I thought I was pretty ornery-looking over at that sod house just now. Are you saying you thought I was bluffing?”

“Don’t know if you were bluffing or not, Cal. The point was, you looked like you were trying to make up your mind what you’d do if that man pushed it to a real fight.”

“Oh, hell, he was outnumbered four-to-one and you said yourself he was just a petty thief!”

“I know what I said. Know I won’t be here if he should ever steal a cow from you again, too. Rain Crow looks like he’s serious enough about such matters. So be sure you take him with you if it comes up a second time. He might have you down as an uncertain gunfighter, and even if he’s Wrong, such doubts lead to most of the trouble out here.”

“Damn it, I wasn’t afraid of him. If he’d made me use my gun, I reckon I would have.”

“Back up and go over what you just said, Cal. You said you reckoned you’d throw down. Unless a man’s certain he’s out for blood with the first shot, he’s better off not having a gun in his hands at all!”

Longarm finished wrapping the honda and twirled the rope experimentally, rolling the loop around him like a hoop as he turned on one heel, muttering, “This looks like I’m rolling it on the ground, but if you watch the wired knot, you’ll see I’m not. Wish there was something to catch around here.”

He handed the rope to Durler. “You fool with it for a while. I’ve got other chores to attend to. You got a survey map I can ruin?”

Durler took the rope but didn’t try to spin it as he frowned and asked, “A map? I’ve got some maps of the reservation if that’s what you mean. What do you mean about ruining one?”

“Pencil marks. I have to stop running in circles after this Wendigo critter. I’m going to mark out all the spots I’ve searched or know real well. Then I’m going to have a closer look-see at the blank parts. If I haven’t found anything by the time I’ve covered the whole map with check marks, I’m in trouble.”

Still holding the rope, Durler ducked inside and came out shortly with a folded survey map. He handed it to Longarm who sat on the steps and spread it out as the agent watched, idly twirling the rope. To Durler’s surprise, the loop opened and began to spin easily as soon as he stopped concentrating too hard on his own wrist.

He laughed boyishly as Longarm drew a loop of his own on the stiff paper and muttered, “If Johnny Hunts Alone, the Wendigo, or whomsoever is inside this I’m blind as a bat. Rain Crow’s searched most of these outlying settlements, so what’s this X? About five miles north of the railroad tracks?”

Durler let the loop collapse and stepped over to stare down at Longarm’s questioning finger. He shrugged and said, “That’s an old, abandoned sod house. A white homesteader built it back in the sixties. Before this land was set aside as a reservation.”

“What happened to the nesters? Government buy ‘em out?”

“No. They were wiped out by Indians. My Blackfoot say they didn’t do it. Others say they did. There’s not much left of the place. Just some tumble-down sod walls and a few charred timbers.”

“What about the well?” Longarm asked.

Durler looked puzzled. “The what?”

“The well,” Longarm repeated. “You can see there’s no stream bed within a mile. If they settled there, they had to have water, so there ought to be a well.”

“Gee, I don’t know, Longarm. I’ve only been out there once or twice. Don’t remember seeing a well.”

Longarm folded the map and put it away in a pocket, saying, “Ruined walls to cut the wind. Maybe water somewhere on the claim. Nobody living near it. Yep. I’ll have a look on my way into town this evening.”

“You’re not staying here tonight? Miss Lee’s moved into the house next door, so there’s plenty of room for you, and Nan’s expecting you for supper.”

“Uh, I’ll be staying in Switchback tonight. I’ll likely be … investigating till right late.”

“Hell, I’ll be up past midnight, Longarm.”

“I might be up even later. I’ll hunker down in town.”

“You’re on to something that will keep you up past midnight?”

Longarm managed not to grin as he said, “I’ll likely get some sleep, sooner or later.”

Chapter 9

The abandoned rains told their mute tale of frontier tragedy to Longarm’s practiced eye as he left his mount grazing on the surrounding short-grass to poke on foot through the rubble. It was late afternoon and his shadow lay long over the weed-grown tangle of charred furniture and heat-scorched metal framed by the knee-high walls of rain-washed sod. With the toe of his boot, he gently kicked a baby’s bottle, melted out of shape by fire, muttering, “Hope they had enough sense to send you away when the smoke-talk rose, little fellow.”