“I apologize again for waking you, ma’am. It’s just that I considered it important.”
“Please come in, Marshal.” She showed him to an upholstered armchair next to a lamp and table. The cabin was divided into two rooms of roughly equal size. Longarm had no idea what was in the other, but the front room was
furnished as an office with a desk, storage cabinets, and several chairs arranged for conversation and reading. There was a sheet-metal heating stove at one end, but no sign of a cooking range or any sort of kitchenware. He guessed that the bedroom area must also double as the kitchen. Either that or the back part of the cabin had been cut into several tiny rooms instead of one room of serviceable size.
“A drink, Marshal?” She was standing close by, ready to provide the refreshment if he wished.
“No, thank you, ma’am. If you would just direct me to—”
“That shallow dish beside you is used as an ashtray if you care to smoke, Marshal. I don’t mind.”
“Yes, ma’am, thank you. Now if you’d just—”
“I believe you have a writ in your possession signed by Judge McFee?”
“Yes, ma’am, but—”
The lady cut him off once again, but this time she sighed and turned away. She went to the rolltop desk that was the dominant piece of furniture in the small room, sat down there, and swiveled the chair to face him.
“You are determined to keep it up, aren’t you?” she asked.
“Ma’am?”
“Oh, never mind. It isn’t your fault. I daresay it isn’t even my fault. It is no one’s. And everyone’s.” The lady looked sad now.
“Ma’am?” he repeated, feeling more confused than ever.
“As I say, Marshal, the fault is not yours. The misconceptions are just so ... infuriatingly common. Something I must face over and over again every day of my life. Sometimes I tire of it, that’s all.”
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Able, but I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Longarm decided to take the lady up on that offer to smoke in her presence. He pulled out a cheroot, nipped off the twist, and rolled the tasty leaf on his tongue. There was a jar of broom straws provided on the table, so he didn’t have to waste a match to light his smoke. He lit a
straw in the lamp flame and used that to light the cheroot. “My point exactly, Marshal,” the woman said.
“I hate t’ repeat myself, ma’am. But what you talkin’ about?”
“I am not Mrs. Able, Marshal.”
“No?”
“There is no Mrs. Able.”
“Ma’am, really now, I didn’t come here t’ pry into any private, uh, situations. Between you an’ Mr. Able, that is. Or, um, anybody else.”
“I’m not making myself clear, am I?”
“No, ma’am, I would have to say that you are not,” he agreed.
“Marshal Long, the point I am trying to make here is that there is no Mister Able either,” the lady said. As if that was supposed to explain everything. Longarm would’ve been satisfied if it had just explained something.
“Are you tryin’t’ tell me, ma’am, that Judge McFee back in Nebraska has issued a writ o’ habeas corpus on behalf of a lawyer that don’t exist?” He whistled and shook his head. “Lordy, ma’am, I don’t know how that one is gonna set when they find out about it.”
“Marshal. Longarm. May I call you Longarm?”
He nodded.
“You still misunderstand. There is an attorney named Able. A. B. Able. Agnes Bertha Able.”
“Is that what you been hemming and hawing about, ma’am? Good grief, you been wasting my time for nothing. What I wanta know, Miss Able, is where the hell the Utes are that I’m supposed to serve papers for? 1 just been over to the jail, and it’s empty ’cept for a couple drunks. Now would you please quit fretting about gender and get down to some business with me here?”
Chapter 16
Once she got over the shock of realizing that Custis Long honestly didn’t give a shit if she was male, female, or something else entirely, just so she was the lawyer he’d come there to see, she was brisk, bright, and informative.
“The Indians in question,” she said, “are being held in an old mine shaft close to town. The jail wasn’t large enough, and I agreed that it wasn’t healthy for the women or the children to be caged in public view like that. The quarters at the mine are not really very good, but they are better than the jail would have been. The Indians agreed to the arrangement, and as their attorney of record I concurred, Longarm.”
‘That takes a load off my mind. I was wondering if the police chief was up to something.”
“I’m sure Boo will release the prisoners once service of the writ is made, Longarm. I can’t imagine him doing otherwise.”
“Could get it done tonight, I reckon, if you know where he lives.”
“Frankly I would rather do it in daylight. You won’t believe the levels of fear and animosity that exist in this town.”
“I think I might,” he commented, but didn’t push the point any further than that.
“It frightens even me, Longarm. I’ve had bolts installed on my door. Six months ago I wouldn’t have believed that necessary, yet it is true. And when we do secure the release
of those people from custody, I want it to be in broad daylight so we can see if there is anyone lurking about with guns.”
“That bad, huh?”
“That bad,” she said.
“I’ll accept your judgment on it,” he said. “We won’t try and do anything until tomorrow.”
“Thank you.” She stood. “Would you care for a drink now, Longarm?”
“You wouldn’t have any rye, would you?”
“Sorry. Calvados is the best I can do.”
“Ma’am?”
She smiled. “Applejack, Longarm. Hard cider that’s gone down and dirty. It will put hair on your chest, guaranteed.” “Reckon I’d best try some then.”
“Good. I hope you won’t mind if I join you?”
“Good likker is always better in good company,” he said.
One of the cabinets that he had assumed held files instead held a black glass bottle in an odd, bulbous shape. Aggie Able poured generous measures into a pair of water glasses and gave one to Longarm. This time she chose to sit in the comfortable chair across the lamp table from his rather than returning to her desk.
‘To your good health,” she said by way of a toast. “Hair on your chest,” he agreed, and Aggie laughed. The lady downed half of hers at a gulp. Longarm followed her example. And had to gasp for breath. “Lordy,” he blurted out when he was able to talk again. “That stuff is stout. I never knew you could put fire in a jug like that.” He grinned. “Good, though.”
“I’m glad you like it.” Aggie set her glass down and opened a small wooden box that was sitting next to the lamp. Longarm had thought it an overlarge matchbox. Actually it contained some thin, cheap, sweet-leaf cheroots. He recognized the type. Molasses-soaked wrapper leafs and rum-soaked fillers in a vain attempt to smooth out the flavors of a basically worthless tobacco. Floor sweepings,
Longarm figured. They cost a tenth what his own fine brand went for. And at that the things were viciously overpriced.
“You aren’t gonna smoke one of them things, are you?” he asked when Aggie took one out.
“Do I shock you?”
“Hell, no, but you disappoint me, not having any better taste than that. Here.” He got out one of his own cheroots and passed it to her. Aggie smelled of it, then sniffed at her own. She raised an eyebrow.