Whatever, it was a bitch of a way to die.
But then, hell, what wouldn’t be?
Longarm sighed. The sun had made its first appearance over the distant horizon now, and was lifting free of the earth.
Official sunrise.
Madelyn Williams Bell should be a widow by now. Shit! Longarm thought. “Tyler.”
“Mm?”
“Reckon we should hitch up the bays an’ head back to Bosler now?”
“Yes, I suppose so. I … if you don’t mind, Longarm, I’ll ride along with you as far as Cheyenne. Someone will have to make arrangements on Maddy’s behalf. I didn’t … I never asked what she wants done now. I mean
…”
“Take him home to her, Tyler. That’s what I’d think.”
“Yes, I suppose that would be best.”
To give credit where it was due, Longarm thought, the defeated lawyer seemed genuinely saddened this morning. No man was that good an actor.
They went back inside, and were in the process of getting the harness sorted out ready to hitch the bay team to Bill Fay’s buggy when Longarm heard the creak of rusty hinges as one half of the big double doors at the front of the feed barn swung open.
“Custis? Are you in there, Custis Long?”
“Who …?”
A graying and withered but broadly grinning old man stepped inside and cheerfully proclaimed, “Somebody told me you was in town and looking for me, Custis. By Godfrey, it’s good to see you again after … what’s it been? Two years? Closer to three?”
Longarm gaped, taken completely aback.
Then his complexion turned a mottled, purplish hue and he barked, “You son of a bitch. You lousy, Judas son of a bitch!”
“Windy?” Tyler Overton exclaimed half a heartbeat behind Longarm’s outburst. “Windy Williams. Jesus!”
Chapter 40
Marshal Bill Fay came out of the Bosler town jail and waddled onto the street, his first concern being to see to the welfare of the fast bay horses and the hell with Custis Long and company. Once assured that his babies were unharmed, he was willing to greet Longarm and Overton.
“And who’s the whiskery gent wearing the handcuffs?” the local lawman asked. “Not another murderer surely.”
“Might as well be,” Longarm explained sourly. “The sonuvabitch damn sure caused the death of another. Though not in any way the law can touch him for. Not that I can see.”
“Then why the handcuffs?” Fay asked.
“Jeez, Bill, there’s gotta be something we can charge him with. Not that me and Tyler have figured out just exactly what yet. But we’ll think o’ something. Count on it.”
“Uh-huh. Kind of looks like in the meantime he’s taken a fall and bruised himself up some. What did he do, fall down five or six times in a row?”
“Yeah, well, some people have lousy balance, don’t they?”
Fay helped Williams down onto the street, and was compassionate enough to stand between the old man and Longarm. “I take it you didn’t have any trouble finding him?”
“Hell, he found us. But not until past dawn this morning. He knew what was happening, damn him. Did it deliberately, he did. He was living there under a false name, and when he was sure Gary Bell was cold meat on the hook, then he stepped out all grins an’ playful. Miserable old son of a bitch.”
“Do you think he planned it all from the beginning?”
“The trial an’ the hanging an’ everything? Oh, hell, no. He couldn’t have seen all that ahead. No, what I think—no point in asking him ‘cause he’d lie like the sonuvabitch he is—what I think is that he just took off one day. The old fart never has been one to accept responsibilities. Things start t’ pile up an’ he heads for the other side o’ the hill. But I think he didn’t like Gary Bell none. I know he wouldn’t care about Bell screwing his daughter. But I think he resented it when the hired man up an’ married the girl an’ took her away from her papa. Windy liked the way it was before, I think. Had all the advantages of Maddy being there to fetch an’ do for him, but none o’ the responsibilities of having a wife. I think he liked having a daughter better than he would’ve a wife. So when Gary Bell married her an’ took her away from him, Windy didn’t like it. An’ when they decided up there that Windy was dead an’ Gary Lee Bell killed him, the old bastard curled up an’ hid on purpose instead o’ stepping in to save the life of his own grandkid’s daddy. That’s low. You know?”
“It is low,” Bill Fay agreed. “But it isn’t fatal.”
“Huh?”
“I did something yesterday that I hope you won’t be mad at me for.”
“What’s that?”
“After you left here, Longarm, I kind of got to thinking. I knew my team would get you to the diggings by sundown, but after that it would take a pure-antee miracle for you to get back here in time to make it to Cheyenne before dawn. Even if you saw this man here the minute you pulled into town, that would’ve been hard because the last scheduled eastbound last night went through at 10:12 p.m. No way you could have gotten back by then. Maybe if the team was fresh-rested for the run, but not on a turnaround. So what I did, Longarm, was to send out a telegram to the governor. It went out yesterday afternoon. I got a wire back earlier this morning.”
“What was-“
“The message I sent, I have to admit, I signed with your name. After all, who the hell am I to butt into other folks’s jurisdiction. On the other hand, I added an endorsement under my own name. The governor and me go back a long ways, you see.”
“And you said …?”
“What I told him was that there was strong evidence Gary Bell wasn’t guilty and that I—meaning you, of course—would be along in a day or two to prove it one way or the other. If anyone ever asks, you didn’t ask for a stay, just for a short postponement.”
“And this morning?”
“You and Mister Overton and this … person here … have until Friday morning to present yourselves before the appropriate authorities in Cheyenne. With or without your proof.” Marshal Fay was grinning ear to ear.
“Shit, Bill. I owe you one. I owe you? Man, Gary Lee Bell owes you. I’ll be sure an’ tell him and his widow so.”
Longarm looked at Windy Williams, then back at Bill Fay. “Let me ask you your best judgment on a legal opinion, Marshal. Me and Tyler have been arguing about it all the way back here from Chinaman’s Knob.”
“What’s that, Longarm?”
“If a man has already been declared dead by a duly seated territorial court o’ law, Marshal Fay, can there be a charge placed against a man for killing that previously dead son of a useless bitch?”
“I think I’ll have to take that under advisement, Longarm.”
“You do that, Bill.” Longarm turned to Tyler. “While me and Bill here take care o’ this bag of sour shit, whyn’t you …”
“Send a wire telling them we’re coming. Right. I’m already on the way.” Overton headed for the railroad depot and telegraph office with a spritely spring in his step.
“All’s well and all that shit, right?” Fay said.
“It remains t’ be seen what’s well and what ain’t. Those kids ain’t exactly outa the woods yet. Maddy’s father turns out to be a true sonuvabitch, which won’t exactly set well in the years to come, I’m sure. And the woman, who ain’t a widow after all, still has t’ tell her husband that she’s pregnant even though he’s been in jail a helluva lot longer than she’s been knocked up. No, I wouldn’t exactly say that everything is turning out peaches here, Bill.” Longarm shrugged and reached for a cheroot. “On the other hand, Gary Bell is alive and is gonna stay that way. They got a chance to make it now. An’ I suppose that’s all any of us can ask for. Life don’t come with guarantees. If we’re given a chance, then I reckon we’re doing pretty good.”
“Come on inside, Longarm. We’ll deposit your prisoner with the rest of the garbage you brought with you, then we’ll go to lunch. There’s time enough before the next eastbound is due in.”