“Think of it this way, Molly. Oakley is going to believe that he can somehow escape. He’s going to be so sure of that that when-“
“He will escape! As sure as day follows night, Oakley will figure out something to save his neck.”
Longarm leaned back in his chair. “He won’t escape. I would never allow that to happen.”
“You won’t have any choice. Marshal Long, you simply don’t know Ford Oakley!”
“You’re right,” Longarm said, wanting very much to reassure the distraught woman, “but I do know his type. You see, I’ve been hunting them down for years. I know how a man like him thinks. I am just as ruthless and determined to deliver him to justice as he is to escape. Even more so.”
Longarm leaned back in his chair and smoked for a moment, then continued. “Miss Bean, I have the great advantage of experience. Oakley has never had to travel under arrest, chained and guarded. I, on the other hand, have had to deliver dozens of killers to trial. I’ve seen every trick in the book. There is nothing that the man can do that would take me by surprise.”
“You’re much too confident.”
“I’m not,” Longarm argued. “I am aware that, if I relax my guard even a moment, Oakley will take my life. I know that I am only human and I can make mistakes.”
“You should shoot him at the first opportunity.”
“No,” Longarm countered, “I should not. That would be far too easy on the man.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that I’ve seen how men of this type behave, and I promise you that Ford Oakley will begin to lose all hope as we get closer to Denver. He’ll become more and more desperate, and I’ll probably have to pistol-whip him a time or two. By the time we arrive in Denver, he’ll be broken. He’ll have played all his hole cards and realized that all he held was an empty hand.”
“I want to go with you,” Molly said. “To make sure.”
“Not a chance.”
“I am going with you,” she vowed. “You’re taking the stage to Elko and from there you are boarding the train to Cheyenne. Both are public conveyances. You can’t prevent me from buying tickets on the same coach and train.”
Longarm had to admit that she was right. “Please,” he said, “just put Ford Oakley out of your mind. Give up the hatred. Be satisfied knowing that Oakley will swing from a noose until dead.”
She took a long, shuddering breath and then whispered, “I … I wish that I could believe that.”
“You can!”
“No!” she said with passion. “Not until I see it with my own eyes.”
Longarm gave up, but it was always a shame to watch a person suffer from hatred. “All right then,” he said finally. “What if I send you an invitation to the hanging. Or a telegram when justice has been carried out.”
“I wouldn’t believe it.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t think you will ever live to deliver Ford Oakley to Denver, much less Elko.”
“Because he has friends?” Longarm leaned across the table and looked into her sky-blue eyes. “Is that why you are so certain that I will fail?”
Molly Bean bit her lip and studied her hands. They were large and looked very capable. They were ridged with callouses indicating that she was not averse to doing hard labor whenever it was necessary.
“Marshal Long,” Molly said, “I can’t tell you exactly what I think will happen once you and Ford get on that stagecoach. I can only say that I believe, with all my heart, that you are a good and a brave man but that you will be killed and Ford will escape.”
Longarm could not help but feel as if he had been insulted. He mashed his smoking cigar in an ashtray, wiped his mustache, and then came to his feet.
“We’ll see, Miss Bean. We’ll just have to wait and see. But please don’t make the mistake of being on that stagecoach when it leaves carrying me and Oakley north.”
“I will be on it, Marshal Long,” she told him in a flat voice. “Because, you see, you haven’t a prayer without my help.”
Longarm frowned. “I wish I had your full confidence, Miss Bean.”
“Why? You have too much confidence of your own, Marshal Long.”
Longarm smiled politely, and then he reached for his Stetson and turned to leave. “Marshal?”
He stopped and pivoted slowly. “Yes?”
“Ford Oakley raped and tried to strangle me too.”
Before Longarm could say anything in reply, Molly got up and hurried away.
“Damn,” Longarm whispered. “Damn!”
Longarm stopped by the marshal’s office once more that evening. Deputy Trout was on guard and when Longarm entered the office, the deputy glared at him with hatred.
“How’s our prisoner?” Longarm asked.
“He’s fine,” Trout managed to say. “But you ain’t taking him away without me coming along.”
“Not a chance.”
“Neither Marshal Wheeler or me is going to let you screw up and lose our reward!” the deputy shouted. “I’m coming, with or without your okay.”
Longarm’s first impulse was to hit the young man again, but this time he resisted. Trout was an asshole, but like Miss Bean, he was a free man and had every right to travel to Denver. There was nothing that Longarm could do to prevent his interference.
Ignoring the deputy, Longarm walked over to the cell and stared at Ford Oakley, who was stretched out on his hard bunk. Almost a minute passed before Oakley even turned his head. “What the Hell are you staring at?”
“A man that deserves to die on a gallows and will come to that bad end very soon.”
“Ha!” Oakley laughed. “You just keep telling yourself that, Marshal Long. I’ll even let you tell it to yourself one last time before I put a bullet into your gut.”
Longarm could feel the evil that this man radiated. For an instant, the thought occurred to him that Molly’s advice had not been so wrong after all. Ford Oakley was extremely dangerous and desperate. He would never give up, and if he ever got the upper hand, even for an instant, Longarm knew that his own life would not be worth a plugged nickel.
“We’ll see,” Longarm said to the man.
“How about a cigar for the condemned man?” Oakley asked. “I can see you got a couple in your coat pocket. Probably cheap bastards, but I can’t be fussy right now.”
“Go to Hell,” Longarm said, deliberately taking another cigar out of his pocket and shoving it between his teeth, then striking a match on the cell bars and lighting the thing.
Oakley sat up and stared at him from the dimness of his cell. When he spoke, there was a taunting laughter in his voice. “Oh, Marshal,” he said, “I don’t think I can remember anyone that I’ve looked forward to killing as much as you. Maybe Deputy Trout, but he’s just small potatoes. You’re the one that is going to give me the most satisfaction.”
“Well,” Longarm said, “we’re all entitled to our little fantasies.”
“How soon are we going to leave for Denver?” Oakley asked. “Are we going by horseback, stage, or-“
“Why don’t you just wait and see,” Longarm said, turning on his heel.
“Where’s the marshal?” Longarm asked when he reached the front door.
“Home asleep, I imagine,” the deputy said. I’m guarding that rattlesnake at night. He comes on to guard him in the day.”
“I’ll spell you both,” Longarm suddenly decided. “We’ll take it in eight-hour rotations until it’s time for me to escort him to the stage for Elko.”
Deputy Trout wanted to throw the offer in Longarm’s face, but he also didn’t want to be stuck with a twelve-hour shift. So finally, he swallowed his pride and said through his mashed lips, “That suits me.”
“I thought it might,” Longarm said. “I’ll start tomorrow morning after your shift. Stay alert.”
Trout’s face twisted in fury, but he had learned better than to mouth off to Longarm, and so he said nothing. But as Longarm walked down the boardwalk, he could hear the deputy’s cursing, followed by Ford Oakley’s chilling and crazy laughter.