It came out a croak, but it came out. Longarm said, “Guess that was his last role. He didn’t do it too good.”
His strength was coming back, but he was still unsure of his footing as he made it to the back of the stage and hunted up the bottle of whiskey he’d left there. He took down two good swallows and then corked the bottle. There was still a lot of work to be done before he could rest. He walked out from the stage. Carl Lowe was sitting up, shaking his head. Rita had walked away from Anson’s body and was hugging herself and crying. Longarm said, “Carl, get the hell up. And you too, Rita Ann. These mules have got to get unhitched and put away. So put your cares and woes aside and get over here and help.”
Chapter 11
That first night, after a little something to eat and drink, all he could do was bind both of them hand and foot. Lowe he bound with leather thongs, his hands behind his back. He knew the man could open safes, and he might also be able to open knots. He tied up Rita with less severity, allowing her to have her hands in front of her. The only leather he used on her was around her ankles when he secured her to a post in the common room of the station. Through it all Rita had been stoic and silent, not having spoken a word to him since he’d killed Anson. Lowe had been submissive and frightened. He seemed grateful that all Longarm was going to do was tie him up in an extremely uncomfortable position for the entire night. Longarm had made it clear from the first that he wasn’t fond of either one of them and the less trouble they gave him the easier they would find life.
It had taken half the night, but they’d finally managed to get all the mules unhitched, the bathtub mules as well, and into the corral for water and hay. Longarm had turned the four saddle horses, the one he’d brought and the three the men who’d ridden to the station had brought, in with the mules. It had caused some kicking and squealing among the mules, but they had gradually settled down and accepted the horses.
There was nothing he could do about the bodies. Rita had slipped out while they were making a kind of supper and put a blanket over Anson, but nothing else had been done. As best he could figure it, the next stage was not due until about thirty-six hours after they had arrived. Until that stage came, or somebody showed up who knew how to work a telegraph, there was really nothing he could do. He knew that he was not up to the task of harnessing a team of mules that could pull the stage, and he had no intention of breaking his fingers trying.
But he had to figure some way to handle his prisoners. He didn’t want to watch them every moment, and there were firearms and horses all about. There was no good place to lock them up, either together or separately, and he wasn’t sure there was a lock on the place that would hold Carl Lowe. In the end he gathered up all the ammunition from all the firearms, and there were quite a few, and took it out in the desert and hid it. He did the same with all but one of the bridles and saddles for the horses. He didn’t figure either Carl Lowe or Rita could ride a horse without either one of those necessary articles.
But by noon of the next day he had discovered the bodies of the stationkeeper, who had been a bachelor, and the two mule hustlers who had worked for him. Longarm put Carl Lowe to work with a shovel and pick burying them in individual graves. After that he felt the necessity of doing something about the three bodies lying in front of the station. He saddled the best of the horses, led him around to the front, and got a rope around Riley Hanks and the gunmen. Then he mounted up and dragged them a mile or two out in the desert, and left them for the coyotes and the buzzards. He took the identification from both men, noting that Hanks had been carrying almost a thousand dollars in cash. That was probably intended for use on their trip to Mexico with the gold.
When he returned, he gave Rita the choice of taking a shovel and burying Anson. When she just folded her arms and walked away, he roped the actor’s ankles together and dragged him off to join his collaborators.
After that he put the horse away and hid the bridle in a stack of hay. There was a small, stout wagon parked at the back of the station, and Longarm asked Rita if that had been the vehicle they had intended to transport the gold to Mexico in. She refused to answer him. He said, “You were all suckers, you just didn’t know it. And that includes that actor fellow you were so fond of. At least I got some respect for him. Once Riley Hanks got his hands on that gold you were all dead anyway. Riley Hanks, or any of his kind, don’t share. So you ain’t lost nothing.”
She rounded on him. “That’s all you know! Anson had it all figured. It would have been Riley and his gunmen who would have perished. We’d have been the ones took the gold to Mexico.”
He laughed. “How the hell were you and Doc going to do away with four gunmen, figuring that I wouldn’t have killed three of them for you, and Riley Hanks and Carl Lowe?”
“Poison,” she said. “Their first meal here would have been their last.”
Longarm shook his head. “You two were a pair of sweethearts, weren’t you. Remind me to keep you out of the kitchen.”
She put on a pout. “Don’t worry. Doc threw away the poison when you captured us. He knew the game was up.”
“He damn sure didn’t go out like it.” He rubbed his neck. “Strong sonofabitch. Like to have broke my head off.”
“Yes, and you had to shoot him. Like a coward!”
Longarm shook his head and walked out to check on Carl. He stood, watching the plodding, methodical way the man worked. Carl Lowe was fairly small, fairly ordinary-looking, and completely indistinguishable from any one of a thousand men. Longarm realized that he could stare at Carl’s face for fifteen minutes and then look away and not be able to give an accurate description of the man.
Carl was more than willing to talk about the robbery and how it had come about. He seemed very anxious to please Longarm. Longarm thought he’d always been anxious to please anyone with power over him. Carl said that the original idea had been Anson’s. His real name was Anson Burke and he really hadn’t been that much of an actor. Carl gave a shy smile. “He was good, all right, you understand, but he preferred other ways to gettin’ his supper. He liked to make fools out of folks and he figured the best way to do that was steal their money. Anson wasn’t a man cared much for folks. Thought he was a good deal superior.”
It had been Anson, whom Carl had worked with before, who had reached him in prison with word about the gold shipments. Carl had gotten word back that he’d be more than glad to help if he could be broken out. But money had been a problem. Carl had recommended that Anson hook up with Riley Hanks. He knew the man had money and he knew he’d bankroll a job if the payoff was big enough.
Carl said cheerfully, “My cut was to be a quarter of the take, plus bein’ broke out of prison. Anson and Riley was gonna split the balance after expenses. Them gunhands was just that, hired gunhands. They didn’t get no split.” Carl shook his head. “But I’ll tell you, Marshal, soon as I figured it was you on my tail, I knowed we didn’t have much chance. Minute I heard you yesterday evenin’ call on us to get our hands up I knowed the dance was over. I just went for the dirt and hoped you’d shoot high.”
Longarm knew that Rita believed he was not going to arrest her. He knew she believed it because she thought he had given her and Anson his word that if they cooperated with him they could write their own ticket. He knew she fully expected to go back to civilization as a free woman at the first opportunity. When he’d been tying her up the night before she’d asked why. He’d answered that he’d killed her lover and he always made it a point to tie up the girlfriends of the lovers he’d killed, especially when he was sleeping under the same roof with them. She had seemed to accept that readily enough.