"I need some bandages," Longarm said. "And hurry."
A few minutes later the maid returned with clean bandages, and Longarm managed to staunch the flow of blood. He tied Ortega's hands loosely behind his back and led him outside.
"Marshal!" the maid cried.
Longarm turned. "What?"
"What am I to do now?"
"Clean and care for the house as usual," Longarm told the frightened woman. "Senora Ortega and Maria Escobar will return very soon."
The maid crossed herself and looked exceedingly happy at this news. Longarm was happy as well.
"Haggerty will kill me if he can," Ortega grated through clenched teeth. "And he'll kill you too."
"He may try," Longarm said, "but he won't succeed."
When Longarm returned to the prison wagon with Ortega, the women prisoners stared through the bars of their wagon at Ortega with great curiosity.
"What are we going to do with him?" Putterman demanded.
"He's a prisoner," Longarm said, "so we'll put him in the wagon."
"With all those women?" Hawkins asked, jaw dropping.
"He's hardly in any shape to take advantage of them." Longarm reminded the young deputy.
"It isn't him that I was thinking about doin' the abusin'," Hawkins said. "They're the ones that are going to have the fun with the poor sumbitch."
Longarm shrugged his shoulders and unlocked the door of the prison wagon. When Ortega realized the company he was going to be forced to keep, the pain on his evil face gave way to unbridled panic.
"No, please! Do not put me in there with those whores! I beg you."
"Shouldn't have called them that," Longarm said as the ten women cursed an spat at the Mexican. "I got a feeling that was a big mistake."
Ortega renewed his struggles with even more desperation, but all his efforts were to no avail as Longarm forced him into the prison wagon. The women crowded around prodding and poking the terrified Mexican. When Ortega's screams took on a higher pitch, Longarm conceded that he might have made a poor decision. However, he did not think that the women would actually kill Ortega, though some of them were certainly capable of the act.
"Let's go," Longarm said, climbing back onto the roof of the wagon.
"Your new prisoner may be dead by the time we reach Prescott," Putterman said.
"Too bad," Longarm replied, wondering again about a snake who'd had a hand in the murder of his own brother.
CHAPTER 20
It would have been a pleasant enough journey to Prescott if Juan Ortega had not kept screaming for mercy. Longarm lay stretched out and dozing on his bedroll until Putterman finally pulled the prison wagon to a halt at the edge of town.
"Well, Marshal Long, how do you want to handle this?" the prison supervisor asked.
Longarm sat up and rubbed his eyes, wishing he'd lately gotten more sleep. He yawned and slowly swung his long legs over the side of the wagon.
"Might as well just roll on in and pull up in front of Marshal Haggerty's office. I don't expect he'll try and run."
"What if he decides to shoot it out?" Hawkins asked.
"That's his choice."
"What the kid is really asking," Putterman said with more than a trace of exasperation, "is are we going to be in the line of fire?"
"Worried?"
"Damn right!" Putterman exclaimed. "People get killed all the time by stray bullets. Besides, we're responsible for these women."
"Somehow," Longarm said cryptically, "I don't think it's the prisoners that you're really worried about."
Putterman didn't like to hear that because it was the truth. Longarm said, "Why don't you just pull up at the livery and make arrangements for the team? They're going to need some rest."
"What are we supposed to do with the women and that Ortega fella, providing he's still alive?"
Longarm leaned far over and peered into the wagon. He could see Ortega lying stretched out on the floor and he was a real mess. The women had bloodied his face and Ortega's shirt and pants were torn open. Longarm didn't even want to think about what had happened to his prisoner because it might cause him to start feeling very guilty.
"All right," Longarm said a few minutes later when the wagon came to a stop. "I'll go arrest Marshal Haggerty and we can cram everyone in his two jail cells."
"That'll be cozy," Hawkins said.
"Very cozy," Longarm agreed, climbing down and checking his six-gun.
"If the marshal kills you first," Putterman called, "I'm not waiting around. I'll pull out for Colorado without you!"
"You do that," Longarm yelled back.
Longarm was aware of the attention that he was attracting as he strode down the boardwalk towards the marshal's office. It was almost as much attention as their caged prisoners were receiving.
When he came to the door of the office, Longarm drew his six-gun and took a deep breath. He placed his hand on the doorknob and started to open it and step inside, but suddenly he saw Marshal Haggerty's reflection in the front window and the man was moving awfully fast.
Longarm jumped aside, kicking the door open and flattening against the outside wall. A great blast of shot filled the doorway, shredding its frame. Longarm stuck his gun around the frame and fired once. The shotgun boomed a second time and Longarm dropped to his belly, scooted into the doorway, and fired again. His first two shots had been merely to distract, for he had not yet located his target. But now he saw the big marshal hauling his gun up to fire.
"Freeze!" Longarm shouted.
"Like hell!" Haggerty bellowed, as his gun thundered in his meaty fist.
But Longarm had already rolled and fired all in the same motion, and his bullet ripped into Haggerty's gut right over his belt buckle. The man's feet jittered on the floor and Longarm shot him again, this time through the chest. Haggerty's eyes rolled up into his head. His feet stopped dancing and he stumbled back until he struck his jail cell bars. Then he twisted as if he were trying to run and hide, and held himself erect against the bars of his cell.
Longarm came to his feet and stepped inside the office, watching Haggerty hang onto the bars and then begin to slide to the floor.
"Dammit, Haggerty," Longarm complained, "it makes me sick when a lawman goes bad. Hurts every one of us who tries to live up to the law. Do you understand what I'm telling you?"
Haggerty's forehead thunked hard against the jail cell, so hard that the bars rattled, and then he sighed and collapsed.
Longarm punched the expended shells from his sixgun and went over to the marshal's body. He extracted the cell keys from the man's pocket and opened both cells in preparation for receiving their wagonload of prisoners.
"Better not put you in one," Longarm mused aloud to the marshal. "Better to drag you outside for the under taker."
And that's what Longarm did. He dragged the heavy marshal outside and a little ways up the street, then laid him out, saying to a gaping spectator, "Go get the undertaker."
"Yes, sir!"
Longarm paused to catch his breath. The marshal must have weighed a quarter of a ton. Longarm became aware of the big staring crowd, and he supposed that he owed them a brief explanation. If for no other reason, then so that Lucy would no longer be under suspicion.
Longarm spoke very loudly although this aggravated his still-aching throat. "Folks," he began, "I'm a U.S. deputy marshal, and the sad truth of the matter is that your own marshal was in cahoots with Juan Ortega, Manuel Padilla, Renaldo Lopez, and Hal Brodie. They all plotted and took part in the murder of Don Luis Ortega."
Longarm paused to let them absorb this startling news, then continued his explanation. "The important thing that you need to understand is that Mrs. Ortega had nothing to do with her husband's death. The only one of the killers still alive is Ortega, and he's going to rot in Yuma Prison."
The crowd stared, and Longarm batted dust from his clothes. "So now that you all know what happened, why don't you all just go on about your business? Your undertaker has got work to do and you folks need to hire a new marshal."