The first old-timer who had spoken buffed up and said, “No call to get all peevish, mister. If you were lookin’ for Mal Burley, why didn’t you just say so?”
Longarm gritted his teeth and refrained from pointing out that he had done that very thing a few seconds earlier.
“You’ll find Mal down at the bank,” the old man said, pointing to a substantial brick building about a block away. “I wouldn’t bother him right now, though. He’s talkin’ to Mr. Thorp.”
Longarm didn’t know or care who Mr. Thorp was, but he didn’t waste his time or breath saying so. He just nodded to the codger, grunted “Thanks,” and headed the Appaloosa toward the bank, leading the chestnut behind him.
Before he could reach the bank, Longarm spotted a man wearing a star pinned to his vest emerging from the brick building. In contrast to his name, Mal Burley was short, slender, and narrow-shouldered. Most small-town lawmen relied on brawn to get their jobs done, but Burley wouldn’t have that luxury. On the other hand, Cottonwood Springs looked like the sort of place that was fairly peaceful most of the time, even though for some reason there were a lot of people in town at the moment.
Another man followed Burley out of the bank. He wore a town suit, but his boots and Stetson were those of a rancher. He was medium-sized—which still made him bigger than the local marshal—and had graying dark hair. His clean-shaven face wore a belligerent expression.
Longarm was already within earshot as the local lawman swung around and said to the man following him, “I told you, Mr. Thorp, I’m doing everything I can. You said you wanted reports every day, and it’s not my fault that there’s nothing new to tell you.”
“It’s been three weeks, Mal,” Thorp said. “You can’t blame me for being worried.”
“No, sir, I sure can’t,” agreed Burley. “But I can’t change the way things are either.”
Thorp’s mouth tightened. “Maybe it’s time I made a change.”
For a moment, Burley didn’t say anything. Then he nodded curtly and said, “You do whatever you have to do, Mr. Thorp.”
“I always do.”
This exchange was interesting as all get out, Longarm thought as he reined up in front of the bank, but it didn’t have a damned thing to do with him. He cleared his throat and said, “Marshal Burley?”
Both Burley and Thorp looked up at him in surprise. They had been so wrapped up in their own conversation they hadn’t seen him approaching with his prisoner. Burley asked, “What can I do for you, mister?”
“Name’s Custis Long. I’m a deputy United States marshal out of Denver, and this is a federal prisoner I have with me. I was wondering if I might take advantage of your hospitality and put him in your lockup for a spell. He needs a doctor to look at him too.”
“A federal badge, eh?” Burley said, clearly a little annoyed at the interruption but interested and impressed in spite of himself.
“That’s right. I’ve got my bona fides right here.” Longarm reached under his coat and took from an inner pocket the small leather folder which contained his badge and identification papers. He handed them to Burley, having to lean over in the saddle to do so because of the man’s short stature. Burley studied the badge for a moment, and as he did Thorp was also examining it over his shoulder.
“Looks like you’re the genuine article, Marshal Long,” Burley said as he handed the folder back to Longarm. “You can leave your prisoner in my jail for as long as you like. I don’t get too many customers in Cottonwood Springs. Not likely we’ll run out of room. I’ll send word for Doc Carson to come down there, if that’s all right.”
“Much obliged.”
“Who have you got there?”
“His name’s Mitch Rainey,” Longarm said. “He and his partner have been holding up stages hereabouts.”
Burley let out a low whistle. “You caught up to Rainey and Lloyd?” He sounded impressed.
Longarm didn’t want to point out that it hadn’t been all that difficult of a chore, when it had obviously proved too much for this local lawman. He merely shrugged and jerked a thumb over his shoulder toward the prisoner. “There’s half of ‘em.”
“Where’s Lloyd?”
“In a shallow grave about twenty miles a little north by west from here.”
Thorp stepped forward, suddenly showing even more interest. “That’s on the other side of the Brazos.”
“Yes, sir, it is,” Longarm agreed. “We crossed the river along about noon.”
Thorp reached out, grabbing hold of the Appaloosa’s bridle. “Did you see it, man?” he demanded in a shaky voice. “Did you see it?”
Longarm wasn’t sure he wanted to hear the answer, but he asked the question anyway. “See what?”
“The Brazos Devil!”
Chapter 4
Longarm hesitated, unsure how to respond to the man. He looked over at Marshal Mal Burley, but didn’t get any clue from the diminutive lawman. Longarm had a pretty good idea what Thorp was talking about, but he didn’t know how much he wanted to say about the incident beside the river earlier in the day.
He was saved from having to say anything by the pitiful whimper Rainey suddenly let out. The outlaw might have been almost back to normal when they entered town, but now he was hunched over in his saddle again and that terrified, furtive look had returned to his eyes. His breath hissed between tightly clenched teeth.
Thorp turned toward him. “You have seen it!” he exclaimed. “You must have! Was there a woman with it?”
The man’s excitement was drawing a crowd, and Longarm heard the murmured comments that leaped from bystander to bystander. “The strangers had a run-in with the Brazos Devil!” one man said. Variations on that theme filled the air.
“Maybe we’d better go on over to your jail,” Longarm suggested to Burley as he put away his cheroot still unlit. “Then you can tell me what’s going on here.”
“Not a bad idea,” Burley said. He lifted his arms and raised his voice as he addressed the gathering crowd, and the words boomed out with a surprising resonance for a man of his size. “Just go on about your business, folks! This is nothing to do with the Brazos Devil!”
Nobody seemed to believe him, but the crowd parted to let Longarm, Rainey, and Burley through as they headed for the jail. Thorp strode along right behind them as if he belonged, and for all Longarm knew, he did. Maybe he was the mayor of Cottonwood Springs; Longarm just didn’t know.
He didn’t know anything about a creature called the Brazos Devil either, but he could make a reasonable guess. The people in this area had themselves a local legend, and judging by its name, the Brazos Devil was some sort of monster, like the Wendigo, Sasquatch, the Caddo Critter, and that Goatman.
Well, Rainey had seen something, whether he denied it now or not, and something had made those tracks Longarm had found near the river. It had been his experience that things supernatural always turned out to have some logical, reasonable explanation. But there was always a first time …
The crowd trailed along behind Longarm and his companions, and stood around chattering excitedly while Longarm dismounted and hauled Rainey down from the chestnut’s saddle. Marshal Burley took the reins and looped them around the hitch rack in front of the jailhouse made from blocks of native stone. After sending one of the bystanders down the street to fetch the doctor, he led the way inside and the crowd stopped short of entering—all but Thorp, that is. He shut the door behind them and said urgently, “Was there a woman with the creature?”
Longarm ignored the question for the time being. He took hold of Rainey’s arm and pulled the outlaw across the small office in the front of the jail toward a heavy wooden door with a small barred window set in it. Longarm knew from experience that such a door always led to the cell block. Burley went first, using a key from a large ring to open the cellblock door.
The cells on the other side were all vacant, their doors standing open. Longarm took Rainey to the closest one and shoved him, not too roughly, through the door. He slammed it shut with a clang.