CHAPTER 11
Longarm circled wide in the gathering dusk to enter the Pilgrim Hotel by way of its connections to the stable out back. He snicked his Winchester off Safe as he eased up the back stairs to the dark upper hallway. They hadn't lit the hall fixtures yet. But there was enough light from outside to see the pale match stem on the darker hall runner near the bottom of his hired room.
He didn't try to open the door. He eased on by and used a certain blade of his pocketknife to open the cheap lock of the room next door he'd hired for little Daisy.
He followed the muzzle of his Winchester inside, crouching low, to see her room was empty. He moved through the gloom to the bath shared by both rooms. Daisy had naturally left the door on her own side unbolted because the bolts were on the insides of both doors for the sake of private bathing.
He glided across the tile floor on the balls of his feet to find that Daisy, bless her, hadn't bothered to bolt the door leading on into his hired room. She'd offered right out to fuck him, thinking back on such free-and-easy bathing. The asshole-puckering part came next. There was no better way to manage. So Longarm set the Winchester on the floor tiles and drew his six-gun for close-quarters chores as he gingerly reached for the bolt with his left hand.
He took three deep breaths, held the last, and hunkered down to charge into the room beyond in a crouch, crabbing to one side as he snarled, "Drop your hardware and grab some ceiling you son of a bitch!"
There came no answer. The room was empty. Longarm put his six-gun away with a sheepish grin, muttering, "Shit, just as I was starting to enjoy myself!"
He moved back the way he'd just come, picking up his Winchester and leaving by way of Daisy's door. He didn't bother to lock her door with his pocketknife. The hotel's keys were where he'd left them to be found by the chambermaid. He wondered idly what that one looked like as he moved down the front stairs, this time wondering why a man who'd just shot his wad in one chambermaid cared what yet another one might look like.
As any experienced housefighter knows, sneaking up a flight of stairs is way safer than sneaking down one. Because when anyone might be laying for you up or down, your head popping suddenly into view offers a poorer target than almost all of you, pussyfooting down the stairs before your fool head can see where its going. So while the tall deputy and his Winchester tried to move quietly, they just went down the last flight of stairs in a sudden bunch, ready to return any fire aimed their way.
But as he got to the bottom, Longarm saw that nobody seemed at all interested in him. He could only make out some of the desk across the lobby and two ladies sitting at a dinky table under a potted paper palm between him and the front entrance.
So he circled the stairs he'd just come down to ease into darker shadows with his back against a solid wall. When nothing happened, he moved along the wall until, sure enough, on the far side of those descending stairs, he spotted the white-clad Deacon Knox seated sideways to him in a big leather easy chair, smoking a cheap-flash cigar as if he didn't have a care in the world.
Longarm swept the shadows all around with suspicious eyes. But if it was a trap, it was a new one on him. He slid along the wall until he could beeline in to gently but firmly shove the muzzle of his saddle gun between the top of the chair and the back brim of that big white planter's hat.
Deacon Knox stiffened as Longarm warned in a conversational tone, "One twitch of your dick and your head winds up in a side pocket. For this ain't a pool cue I'm holding against your brains, you two-faced tinhorn rascal!"
Deacon Knox sighed and kept looking straight ahead as he replied, "Use your own brains, Longarm. Would I be sitting here like a big-ass bird with both hands empty on the arms of this old chair if I meant you harm?"
Longarm left his rifle muzzle where it was as he asked, "How come you picked my lock and tossed my room upstairs, you harmless cocksucker?"
Deacon Knox soberly replied, "I never went up there to commit crimes against nature or yourself. I've been waiting here a spell. Knowing you'd been marked for death, I finally let myself into your quarters to pay my respects to your remains, read your mail, or whatever. I saw by the keys you'd left on the bed you meant to be leaving town tonight. I've been all over town trying to catch up with you and tell you not to do that. I finally came back here because it occurred to me that since you'd asked your office to wire you in care of this hotel, you might come back to check with yonder desk before you left."
Longarm withdrew his Winchester from the nape of the tinhorn's neck and moved around to face him with the rifle pointed a mite less rudely. He reached for a nearby bentwood chair, spun it around so he could sit it astride while facing the older man in the easy chair, Winchester across his spread thighs and.44-40 hanging handy, before he declared, "They told me about the con you pulled at Western Union. I'd like to read that wire you intercepted, now. Reach for it slow."
Deacon Knox smiled sheepishly and said, "I threw it away lest it be found on me. Your boss, Marshal Vail, wants you to meet with the county board of supervisors, convey his suspicions to the sheriff in command of the whole shebang, and head back to Denver unless you come across something really new. He says others have investigated other shootouts all over this great land without managing to indict even one of those Wyoming wildwomen."
Then he took a drag on his big cheap cigar and added, "What's a Wyoming wildwoman, old son?"
Longarm said, "I was hoping you'd be able to tell me. But let's talk about you. What the fuck have you been up to, Deacon?"
The tinhorn wistfully replied, "I wish I knew. I thought I knew until you bigger boys commenced to play too rough for this delicate child. You know me of old, Longarm. Did I throw down on you or try to get somebody else to gun you after you'd treated me so mean over Nebraska way?"
Longarm smiled thinly and replied, "I didn't treat you so mean. I exposed you as a cardsharp after I caught you dealing dirty to a lady. Nobody killed you. Nobody even arrested you. You and your pals were allowed to leave town in peace, as long as you left sudden."
Deacon Knox nodded soberly and said, "Then it's established we left peacefully. I told you at the time I didn't want to catch any north-bound trains because I'd met up with a rougher crowd up this way. But your pals gave me no choice and so that's what happened. I was sitting there minding my own business with a faro shoe in a back room when Texas Tom Taylor, who was really named Hatfield, caught up with me the night before last. Texas Tom and I went back to a summer on a Missouri road gang. We had little else in common. But he knew I knew you on sight. So he offered to let me in on a good thing if I'd be willing to point you out when you came to town."
Longarm nodded and said, "I can see you pointed me out. What was the deal he offered for my demise, thirty pieces of silver?"
Deacon Knox blew smoke out both nostrils and gasped, "Be fair! I never played Judas on nobody! Lord knows you've never been no pal of mine! You damn near got me killed, myself, when you exposed the way I'd got so lucky at Slapjack in that dinky Nebraska trail town. But I was never out to get you or anybody else shot in the back. They told me they were out to avoid you, not to murder a federal lawman! I like to shit my pants when I heard how you'd shot it out with Texas Tom. I could have told him how safe it was to shoot at you, had he asked me. But he never! I swear to God!"
Longarm said, "Keep your voice down. Let's keep this private. You said they told you fibs about me. I only got Texas Tom. Who else am I gunning for?"
The tinhorn told him, "Ram Rogers and vice versa. Taller than you but twice as skinny. Dark hair, dark complexion, dresses dark, and some say he has some colored blood, but he says it's Cherokee. Soft spoken and slow moving, until he tenses up to slap leather. He's said to move like spit on a hot stove when he has to. I've never seen him kill anybody. I didn't even know he had that rep when I first fell in with the two of them, Dear Lord, just a few short days ago that seem like years!"