Longarm did not take time to admire his work, however. He swung the muzzle of the Colt toward the next man in line, but before Longarm could pull the trigger that policeman too was driven backward off his horse.
The third warrior was unseated almost in the same instant, and Longarm of a sudden had no more targets. All three Piegan policemen were down, either dead or dying, the last two having been practically cut to ribbons by half-a-dozen bullets or more.
Longarm climbed to his feet and looked up toward the ridge he and the Piegan had vacated minutes earlier.
Tall Man showed himself on the skyline there. Tall Man and at least a dozen of his Crow warriors.
Under the circumstances, Longarm decided he would not complain about the Crow killing their old Piegan enemies, even if they were all supposed to be friends and neighbors nowadays.
No, sir, he wasn’t going to fuss at them even a little bit for shooting down their agency neighbors like that.
Instead he pulled out a pair of rum crooks—he did wish Tall Man would get around to sharing some of those good cheroots he’d won off Longarm—and hoped he had enough of the vile things left in his saddlebags to properly reward the warriors Tall Man brought with him.
Chapter 34
“You already knew,” Tall Man said, mouthing his words through a dense curtain of smoke from the crook Longarm had given him. Longarm thought the Crow sounded disappointed.
“I knew,” Longarm agreed.
“How?”
“Same way I bet you figured it out. Short Tail Rabbit wasn’t shot by accident from a distance. He couldn’t have been mistaken for me and shot in my place. Whoever murdered him damn well intended to because they were standing not more than a few feet behind him. A heavy, slow-moving slug like one from a .50-70 rifle will only punch a hole at any range over fifty, sixty yards or so. In order to make as big as mess as Short Tail Rabbit’s head was, the shooter had to be close enough to damn near tap him on the shoulder.” Tall Man grunted once and nodded, turning to repeat Longarm’s words in his own language for the benefit of the other warriors.
“You did not need us as we thought you did.”
“A man always needs his friends.”
“But with these Piegan you did not need us,” Tall Man said.
The truth was that Longarm had fully intended to take the Piegan alive if he could. He certainly had wanted at least one of them left alive and available for questioning.
That was no longer a possibility, however. Tall Man’s Crow warriors had seen to that.
“What will you do now, Longarm?”
“I still need to speak with Cloud Talker.”
“How will you find him?”
Longarm grinned. “That’s another thing that was kinda a giveaway about those Piegan murderers. Usually, my friend, the most effective thing is also the simplest. To find Cloud Talker, I’ll first go look for him at his lodge. If he isn’t there, well, we’ll worry about that if the time comes.”
“Ha!” Tall Man barked. “Good. We will go with you.”
“I’m not expecting trouble, Tall Man. Not from Cloud Talker.”
“One never knows where trouble will find you. Or when.”
“If you want to come along …”
“I will come.”
Longarm grunted in agreement with the statement. It wasn’t really a request. “After we see Cloud Talker, Tall Man, the three of us can go make sure there won’t be any war between your people an’ his.”
“You know who killed the Piegan shaman and Short Tail Rabbit?”
“If you mean do I know yet exactly who it was that clubbed John Jumps-the-Creek, no. I don’t. Though when it comes to Short Tail Rabbit, I expect that the killer is lying on the ground over there. I don’t think it really matters now which one of them killed him. The point is why they done it.”
“And you know the answer to this?” Tall Man asked.
Longarm sighed. Then shrugged. “Old friend, I don’t have the faintest idea why all this has been done. I wish to hell I did, because then I think I could figure out all the other details that aren’t lining up in my mind just yet.”
“We will go now. Talk to Cloud Talker.” Tall Man stood, and his warriors sprang to their feet also.
Longarm glanced back at the bodies of the dead Piegan policemen. They probably ought to be given burials.
On the other hand … piss on them. What they already had was precisely what they deserved. If the Piegan wanted them properly buried, then the Piegan could come out and do the burying.
“Let’s go, my friend.”
Chapter 35
Cloud Talker wasn’t exactly in hiding. The man was sitting outside his own lodge, cross-legged on a coyote skin, with a mirror in one hand and a pair of tweezers in the other, busy pulling stray whiskers off his face and neck. Longarm had seen Tall Man and others do the same thing many and many a time, and it purely hurt just to look at. A good razor and strop seemed mighty fine in comparison, and never mind the nuisance of having to shave so often.
Cloud Talker seemed surprised, and perhaps more than a little afraid as well, when he saw Tall Man and his band of Crow coming. Cloud Talker came to his feet and reached behind him for one of the ubiquitous Springfield rifles. “Does it start here, Long Arm? Have these enemies come to kill me?”
“They haven’t come to kill you, Cloud Talker. And they aren’t your enemies. Right now they could well be the closest thing you got to having friends. Have you heard about Short Tail Rabbit?”
“What of him?” Cloud Talker made his feelings on the subject clear enough. He turned his head and spat at the mention of his rival’s name.
The Piegan shaman’s attitude changed when he heard about the murder. A look of sharp alarm made his eye grow wide. But then, if the Piegan tribal police could murder Short Tail Rabbit, what would they do if they became angry with him as well.
“What does Agent MacNall say about this, Long Arm?”
“We haven’t discussed it with him, Cloud Talker. We wanted to come see you first thing. Figured you, Tall Man, and me could all go see MacNall next an’ see can we bring this mess to a conclusion everybody can live with.”
“Yes, please. Whatever you say, Long Arm.”
“Tell me something, though, Cloud Talker. Do you think you can control your tribal police? There’s at least a few rogues runnin’ with them.”
“I … when the sun was young in the sky, Long Arm, I would have said to you that these men are Piegan. That they will follow me. But if what you say about Short Tail Rabbit is true …”
“It’s true enough, Cloud Talker,” Longarm said.
“With my own eyes I saw the police try to shoot our friend in the back,” Tall Man added. “If Longarm were not a warrior to be reckoned with, he would be dead now.”
Cloud Talker shook his head. “I do not know. I do not know what to do now.” He looked beyond Longarm, grimaced, and looked down toward the ground.
Longarm glanced around. The girl Angelica was there behind him. And the big white dog. For some reason Cloud Talker seemed unwilling to look at the girl.
“Hello,” Longarm said. He smiled. “Do you know you’re even prettier in daylight?”
Angelica ignored the flattery and approached Cloud Talker. She lightly touched Cloud Talker’s forearm, a small gesture which aroused a pang of jealousy—stupid but undeniable—in Longarm’s chest. Damn, the girl was gorgeous. She went way the hell past being merely pretty. She was so beautiful there ought to be, maybe was, a law against screwing her.
“You are a good man, Cloud Talker,” she said. “But you are not your father. You cannot be shaman. Not such a one as he was.”
“But you …”
Angelica nodded. “Yes. For our people.”