“They said you killed a man,” added Julie.
“I’m afraid that’s right,” Longarm said. “Didn’t have much choice in the matter. He was trying to kill me at the time.”
Janice shuddered. “I’m getting a little tired of the West. It’s so violent out here!”
“It can be,” admitted Longarm. “A lot of people are working to make it less dangerous, though.”
“Including you,” said Julie. Longarm acknowledged the comment with a nod and a half-shrug.
Janice linked her arm with his. “I’ll be glad when we reach Denver. At least it’s a civilized town!”
Longarm didn’t bother mentioning all the times he had come too damned close to getting killed right there inside the city limits of Denver. If Janice wanted to believe it was a civilized place, then so be it. He was more concerned at the moment with the way her breast was pressing softly and warmly against his arm. Julie took his other arm and leaned into it. “Walk us to Matador’s stall,” Julie said.
“My pleasure, ladies.”
And it was, just as it was his pleasure to eat lunch with them in the clubhouse a little later. Senator Padgett and Leon Mercer joined them, of course, as did the other owners. Longarm had met all of the other men at least briefly during the trip; Janice and Julie were the only females on the racing circuit this time around. For the rest of the day, Longarm paid more attention to the other owners, watching them closely, engaging them in idle conversation. They were a diverse group, as might have been expected. Three of the men were from Texas, two each from Louisiana and Kansas, and one apiece from Arkansas, Iowa, and Kentucky. Senator Padgett’s home state of Colorado was the farthest west of any man’s in the bunch. That didn’t surprise Longarm. Western horses were bred more for short, fast bursts of speed as they worked cattle, so that was what Westerners knew best. The long-legged thoroughbreds that ran the longer distances came mostly from the South and East, although like everything else in the country, they were spreading west.
By and large, the owners were a friendly group and got along well despite the natural rivalries. Longarm didn’t sense any real bitterness among them, certainly nothing that would lead to violence. Of course, he wasn’t expecting to find anything of that nature. He was on the trail of cold-blooded greed, rather than hot-blooded anger.
As he watched the race later that afternoon from Padgett’s box, Longarm began to worry that the senator would have a fit of apoplexy and fall down dead. Padgett was that excited as he jumped up and down, screaming and red-faced, while the horses swept around and around the track and Caesar gradually pulled ahead of the others. Longarm was no expert, but as far as he could tell, Cy was riding the ride of his life, doing everything right and not making a single wrong move. By the time the horses began flashing across the finish line, Caesar was a full three lengths ahead, the clear winner.
Padgett whooped and embraced Leon Mercer, jerking the smaller man off his feet in his exuberance. “We won, Leon, we won!” shouted Padgett.
“Indeed we … did, sir,” Mercer gasped. “I’m sorry, sir, but I … can’t breathe!”
Padgett released his assistant and turned to Longarm, who stopped him by holding up a hand. “I’m happy for you, old son, but don’t even think it,” Longarm warned.
“All right, but I’m buying all the drinks!”
Longarm grinned. “I got no problem with that.”
The three of them began making their way down toward the winner’s circle. Longarm also wanted to find the Cassidy sisters and congratulate them on Matador’s third-place finish. He knew they needed some wins in order to accumulate enough prize money to get their ranch back on its feet, but at least they had finished in the money in this race.
As he had been doing all day, Longarm kept an eye out for Guzman, the other Mexican from the cantina. Deputy Bullfincher had been convinced that Guzman would be gunning for him too. Longarm wasn’t quite so sure. Rodriguez had been paid to bushwhack him, but that didn’t mean Guzman had been too. Even if the person who wanted Longarm dead had enlisted Guzman in the effort, Guzman had surely seen what had happened to Rodriguez. Guzman could have returned the money to his erstwhile employer—or else kept it and pulled a double cross by taking off for the tall and uncut. Either way, Longarm didn’t think he had to worry overmuch about Guzman, but he still didn’t intend to take any foolish chances.
When they reached the winner’s circle, Padgett grabbed Cy and O’Malley both, hugging the jockey and the trainer in turn. “God, I’ve never been so thrilled in my whole life!” he said. “When Caesar reached the finish line, I thought I was going to die from the excitement!”
“We all did, Senator,” Mercer said dryly.
Several of the other owners arrived to pump Padgett’s hand and slap his back in congratulation, so Longarm took advantage of the opportunity to slip away and find the Cassidy sisters. They looked excited at Matador’s finish, but nevertheless somewhat disappointed.
“I really thought he’d win today,” Julie said as she stroked the shoulder of the big chestnut. Matador was sweating and his sides were still heaving from the exertion of the race.
“I reckon it was just Caesar’s day,” said Longarm, knowing the words were scant comfort. “You’ll get ‘em next time.”
“I hope so,” Janice said with a sigh. “Coming on this trip was expensive, you know. If we don’t go home with a sizable amount of money, we won’t be able to cover our expenses and make the necessary repairs to the ranch.”
Longarm shook his head. “Wish I could help you, ladies, but I don’t know a damned thing about this kind of horse racing. And on what Uncle Sam pays me, I can’t loan anybody more than whiskey-and-cigar money.”
Both of the young women looked alarmed. “Please, Custis, don’t think we were hinting for any such thing!” Janice said.
“We can take care of ourselves,” Julie said.
Janice took one of Longarm’s hands in both of hers. “We’re just glad you’ve been along for most of the trip, Custis, because having you for a friend has meant so much to us.”
“It’s been my pleasure, ma’am. And I mean that.”
Janice smiled up at him and practically puffed, “It’s been our pleasure too. Quite a few times, in fact.”
Longarm had to grin at her boldness.
The aftermath of the race passed without incident, as did that night at the hotel. The next westbound train would pass through Tucson the following morning, and the circuit would continue. Though there were no races scheduled for California, the route of the group would take them through the eastern part of that state, following the rail line as it curved north and made connections with the Union Pacific Railroad, which would take them to Carson City and Reno. Several days of travel would be involved, Longarm knew. He didn’t mind. He didn’t expect anything to happen while they were on the train—although he would not have ruled out the possibility of another attempt on his life—and the interval would give him time to ponder everything that had happened. A couple of theories had started to take shape in his mind, and he wanted to test them out by taking every fact he could think of and holding it up to scrutiny.
He went to sleep that night thinking about the case, and dreamed about clues that proved too elusive for him to grasp.
Mountains and deserts had a bleak, spectacular beauty to them for the most part, Longarm had learned over the years, but such landscapes got mighty old and tiresome after a few miles, especially when they were viewed from the window of a moving train. It wasn’t like riding horseback through such terrain, when you were moving slowly enough to appreciate all the subtle differences. When he had to do too much traveling by rail, he usually wound up sitting as far back in his seat as he could, hat tipped down over his eyes, an unlit cheroot clenched in his teeth. That was the position in which he found himself a couple of days after leaving Tucson. It would be another day and a half before the group of travelers arrived in Carson City for the next race.