“No,” Randy said quickly. Too quickly. “Maybe … maybe tomorrow.”
“I’m going to be leaving Helldorado tomorrow,” Longarm said, “unless you have changed your mind and decided to buy some of our ponies after all.”
“Not very damned likely,” Clyde said.
“There is one horse I kind of admire,” Randy said.
Longarm turned his attention to the kid. “You’d be referring to the buckskin.”
“That’s right. He doesn’t even belong with those others. Is he really a mustang?”
“No,” Longarm said. “I figure he was a saddle horse that broke free and then went wild. He was running with the mustangs and we just brought him along.”
“He’s handsome,” Randy said. “How much?”
“For you, ten dollars.”
It was a ridiculously low price, one that Longarm knew the kid from Helldorado could not afford to pass up.
“Is he still rideable?”
“I don’t know,” Longarm said honestly. “But the Indian will know.”
“Then let’s talk to him now,” Randy said.
Longarm looked at the others, and when Clyde did not object, he gave them a simple smile and followed Randy out the door, sucking on the knuckles that he’d barked.
“Are you as good with a six-gun as you are those fists?” Randy asked.
“Nope.”
Randy stopped and looked at him. “I’m not sure that I or anyone else that saw you whip Dean believes that.”
“Like I said,” Longarm answered, “I had this friend in the Yuma prison.”
“When were you there?”
“Got out last summer.”
“And you were there at least four years?”
“Closer to five,” Longarm lied.
“For what?”
“Killing a man over a deck of cards as poorly marked as the ones that we were just playing with.”
Randy blinked. “If you knew they were marked, why did you play?”
“I didn’t have much choice, now, did I?”
“No,” Randy said, “I guess not. Is Custis your real name?”
“Yep.”
“I doubt it,” Randy said, then quickly added, “But I’m not calling you a liar.”
“Sounded like it.”
“Let it go,” Randy warned. “If you kill or whip me, my pa and my brother will make you wish you’d never been born.”
“Is that how it goes with you, kid? You just rely on your pa and big brother to back up your play?”
Randy was stung by the insult and he whirled on Longarm. “Are you forgetting that I just had a gun in my hand aimed at your heart and that I could have shot you?”
“Yeah,” Longarm admitted, “I did forget. Thanks for not drilling me. But why didn’t you-“
“I don’t kill men unless I have to.” Randy relaxed. “And besides, I like that buckskin.”
“Then let’s go talk to George about him,” Longarm suggested.
Ten minutes later, they were rousing George out of a deep sleep. The Indian fumbled for his gun, but Longarm pinned his wrists to the ground, saying, “It’s all right, George. It’s me, Custis.”
The Paiute shook free and sat up. He started to speak, then saw Randy and changed his mind.
“This is Randy and he’s all right,” Longarm said in the way of an introduction. “He likes that buckskin and wants to know if the horse is broke to ride.”
“No.”
“Damn,” Randy swore. “I’m not sure that I want to break him. Leastways, not in front of the others. If I get bucked off and land on my head, I’ll never hear the end of it.”
“You don’t have to buy the horse,” Longarm said, wanting to give the kid an honorable out. “Why don’t you just think about it tonight and then we can talk in the morning before George and me leave?”
“Sounds good,” Randy said. He walked over to the corral and draped his arms across the top rail. He watched the buckskin for several minutes and then he said, “That horse is about two hundred pounds light. How old do you think he is, George?”
“Six, maybe seven.”
“He looks younger,” Randy said. “You can tell by his teeth and we’ll have a look at ‘em in the morning. I may still buy him from you.”
“That’d be dandy,” Longarm said, “seeing as how I’m almost dead broke now.”
“This hasn’t worked out so good for you, has it?”
“Nope.”
Randy frowned. “Let me tell you something, Custis, or whatever your name is. You’re just damned lucky—far luckier than you can imagine—that you’re still alive. And my advice is to get out of Helldorado as fast as you possibly can.”
“Thanks.”
“Here,” Randy said, dragging out a few rumpled dollars. “I’m going to buy your horse for ten dollars because he doesn’t belong in the company of those sorry mustangs. And if you’re gone before daylight, just leave the buckskin in the corral and I’ll take my chances with him tomorrow.”
“Sounds more than fair,” Longarm said, taking the money. “Thanks.”
“Just leave Helldorado while you can,” Randy said again, this time to them both before he walked away.
Longarm watched the kid go back into the saloon. Turning to George, he said, “That kid sure doesn’t belong with this crowd of thieves and cutthroats.”
“Don’t trust kid,” George warned. “Blood thicker than liquor.”
“Yeah,” Longarm said, not sure that he got the Paiute’s meaning. “But that kid deserves a chance to get out of this mess before he is brought to a sad end.”
George didn’t say anything, and Longarm walked over to the corral and stared at the buckskin. It was the one good horse in the band, although it was thin and you had to look beyond its current condition to see its true quality.
“The kid has a good eye for horseflesh, George.”
“Maybe.”
“And maybe you should ride out tonight.”
“What about wild horses?”
“Take ‘em back to Pyramid Lake,” Longarm said. “They’ve served their purpose.”
George thought hard about that for a few minutes, and then he shook his head. “I go when you go,” he said before he lay back down in his blankets and immediately began to snore.
Chapter 12
Longarm did not sleep particularly well that night. He couldn’t help but wonder if Dean would recover enough to come looking to even the score. Longarm had rarely delivered such a savage beating, but he’d been in a fighting mood and he’d wanted to leave no doubt in anyone’s mind that he was not quite the bumpkin that his clothes and easygoing manner had initially suggested.
Randy, of course, would tell his father and others about Longarm’s supposed imprisonment in Yuma, and Longarm thought that someone in the gang might eventually check that out and discover it to be pure fabrication. But by then, Longarm was confident that he would already have broken the Killion gang and put them permanently behind bars.
“Still hanging around, huh?” Randy said, coming over to join them bright and early the next morning. “I thought you had enough sense to get out of Helldorado while the getting was good.”
“Maybe your father will change his mind and decide to buy our mustangs after all.”
“Not a chance.”
“You did.”
“Even you admitted that my buckskin isn’t a mustang.” Randy was dragging a saddle. “You fellas going to sleep all day, or are you going to help me saddle and shake out the buckskin?”
“If there’s a breakfast in it for the trouble, we’ll help you,” Longarm said, looking at George Two Ponies, who nodded in agreement. George and Longarm had not eaten well since leaving Pyramid Lake.
“Fair enough,” Randy said. “I was hoping one of you was handy enough with a rope to catch him and then help hold him steady while I cinch him up good and tight.”
“I forgot to bring a rope,” Longarm said, “and so did George.”
“I’ll get one for you,” Randy said, dropping his saddle and wheeling around to march toward the town’s livery.
“Why hurry?” George asked. “Eat first, then ride buckskin.”