LONGARM AND THE RENEGADE ASSASSIN [066-066-4.9]
By: Tabor Evans
Category: Fiction Western
Synopsis:
The commissioner for Indian Affairs is in Denver to settle a dispute between the ranchers and Ute Indians over cattle grazing rights. But fighting’s the last thing on Longarm’s mind. He’s looking forward to a week’s leave with that shapely nurse from the Denver hospital. What he gets is an entirely different kind of bombshell—the kind with a fuse. A handful of homemade hell tossed into the commissioner’s carriage blows the rig clear off the ground—and Longarm’s boss, Billy Vail, with it. And when the smoke clears, Longarm smells a conspiracy that stinks worse than gunpowder and charred flesh. 234th novel in the “Longarm” series,
1998.
Jove Books New York Copyright (C) 1998 by Jove Publications, Inc. All rights reserved.
This book may not be reproduced in whole or in part, by mimeograph or any other means, without permission. For information address: The Berkley Publishing Group, a member of Penguin Putnam Inc., 200 Madison Avenue, New York, New York 10016.
ISBN: 0-515-12292-0
Jove Books are published by The Berkley Publishing Group, a member of Penguin Putnam Inc., 200 Madison Avenue, New York, New York 10016.
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A Jove Book / published by arrangement with the author
Printing history Jove edition / June 1998
PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
If you purchased this book without a cover, you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the publisher, and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”
DON’T MISS THESE ALL-ACTION WESTERN SERIES FROM THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP
THE GUNSMITH by J. R. Roberts Clint Adams was a legend among lawmen, outlaws, and ladies. They called him … the Gunsmith.
LONGARM by Tabor Evans The popular long-running series about U.S. Deputy Marshal Long—his life, his loves, his fight for justice.
SLOCUM by Jake Logan Today’s longest-running action Western. John Slocum rides a deadly trail of hot blood and cold steel.
BUSHWHACKERS by B. J. Lanagan An action-packed series by the creators of Longarm! The rousing adventure of the most brutal gang of cutthroats ever assembled—Quantrill’s Raiders.
Chapter 1
United States Marshal William Vail, chief marshal of the Justice Department’s Denver, Colorado, office, leaned back in his creaking, spring-loaded swivel chair and closely scrutinized the piece of paper his top deputy had just handed him.
“Look, uh, I know this is kinda sudden, Billy,” U.S. Deputy Marshal Custis Long tried to explain, “but …”
“Shhh, I’m concentrating.”
“Yes, sir. Sorry.” Which he wasn’t, but it sounded nice and polite. And politeness counts for a lot when one is seeking favors.
The deputy known usually, at least to his friends and closest enemies, as Longarm stood up, impatient, and began to pace Billy Vail’s office while he waited for his boss to finish reading.
Longarm was a tall man, something over six feet in height, with a horseman’s lean build, broad shoulders, and a craggy, sun-and wind-burned face. He had brown hair, brown eyes, and a large handlebar mustache. He wore a Colt revolver strapped at his waist in a cross-draw rig carried just to the left of his belt buckle, and a derringer carried much less conspicuously in his vest pocket where an ordinary watch fob would have been expected. Normally calm and unexcitable, this morning Longarm was more than a little nervous.
Billy Vail glanced up at him and observed, “The lady must be something special.”
“Lady? That request doesn’t say anything about any ladies.”
The marshal smiled. “How long have I known you, Longarm? Ten years or more? I think by now I know what’s up when you come rushing in here at the last moment and ask to take actual leave time starting immediately. Not just a couple days off, mind. But time charged against your annual leave? Custis, you surprise me with this. And you haven’t surprised me in an awfully long time now.”
Longarm didn’t bother arguing with his boss. There would have been no point. Once Billy decided on a point of view, it would take some serious proofs to the contrary if one expected to make the man change his mind.
Besides, Billy was right. There was a lady involved in Longarm’s desire to take an unannounced holiday in the mountains west of Denver. A very special lady indeed. And if he let this one get away, well …
“Well?” Longarm asked, unable to contain the question any longer.
Vail smiled. “Sure, you can have the time off. The rest of this week and … what was it you wanted? Until next Thursday too. Will that suit you?”
“Perfect,” Longarm enthused. “Just what the doctor ordered.” Or if not the doctor, then the nurse, although he kept that to himself. “Thanks.”
“One thing,” Billy cautioned.
“What’s that?”
“Before you go, Longarm, I want you to help me show the colors here at noon.”
“Show the colors? I don’t understand. You want me to do something with the flag, Boss?”
“I didn’t mean literally. But I want a nice show of force from as many of our people as we can put together this morning. There is a very important visitor I want you all seen by.”
“Mm?”
“A close friend of the president, actually. He’s been appointed Special Commissioner for Indian Affairs and sent here to look into the question of grazing rights on the Ute lands.”
Longarm grimaced. He was familiar with that particularly thorny problem. There was a large and highly vocal contingent of stockmen, ranchers who raised both beef and sheep, who felt they should have the right to graze unfenced lands including those claimed by the Ute nation. And there was a smaller but equally vocal group of moralizers, most of them not Coloradans at all, but fainthearted folks from back East who Longarm privately referred to as the Lo! the Poor Indian crowd, who supported Ute demands that the open lands be kept free of privately held livestock and available only to the Indians for their own hunting needs.
Neither side had yet expressed any willingness to compromise.
And each had solid political influence, the ranchers receiving support from senators and congressmen representing voting blocs in the West, and the Indians’ supporters enjoying the support of politicians in the East, and Midwest. Southern politicians seemed indifferent to the question; they had their own problems.
In any event, Longarm knew the question was a potentially explosive one, and whoever won this small and seemingly insignificant battle might well achieve a superiority of power that would carry over into other decisions for months or years to come, certainly until the next congressional elections, and possibly much longer. So yes, this visitor was important indeed, and could well have much influence on the entire western part of the country.
“The U.S. attorney and I will be hosting a luncheon for the commissioner and his wife,” Billy explained. “At the Cargile Club,” he added.
Longarm’s eyebrows went up and he whistled. “Fancy,” he said. Which was something of an understatement. The Cargile was without question the grandest, most elegant—and most expensive—outfit ever to hit Denver. Or probably anyplace else between San Francisco and—Longarm didn’t know, maybe Boston. Anyway, it was one highfalutin son of a bitch.
“I could wait until afternoon,” Longarm offered, “if you’d take me with you.” After all, going as the guest of someone with money and influence was the only way Custis Long would ever be allowed through the gilded doors of a place as tony as the Cargile Club.
“You know I’d take you except that you’re officially off duty now.”