LONGARM AND THE SAN ANGELO SHOWDOWN
By Tabor Evans
Synopsis:
San Angelo is a town as dry as a whore’s kiss—and equally sincere when a man’s time is up. Even the indians don’t bother making trouble down that way. So Longarm doesn’t understand why soldiers from Fort Concho are being picked off under cover of the night. But he’s going to get a firsthand look at the situation, posing as a high-rolling gambler and horse trader. Seems the soldiers have worn out their welcome around town. Especially in the eyes of the Castles, a clan of cattle barons whose word is law in San Angelo. Now Longarm must find out if it’s greed or madness that’s leading to murder—and the search will send him up against a whole town. 193rd novel in the “Longarm” series, 1995.
Jove Books New York Copyright (C) 1995 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, 200 Madison Avenue, New York, New York 10016.
ISBN: 0-515-11528-2
Jove Books are published by The Berkley Publishing Group, 200 Madison Avenue, New York, New York 10016.
JOVE and the “J” design are trademarks belonging to Jove Publications, Inc.
A Jove Book / published by arrangement with the author
Printing history Jove edition / January 1995
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.”
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Chapter 1
Billy Vail, United States Marshal, First District Court of Colorado, said, “The army is asking us for some assistance. They’ve got a little trouble at one of their forts and they want us to come in and give them a hand. Considering how cooperative they’ve always been with the Federal Marshal Service, I don’t see how we can refuse.”
Longarm lounged in a chair across the desk from his boss. He had it tilted back against the wall and was idly smoking a cheroot and dropping the ashes on the floor. He said, “Well, Billy, that sounds like a pretty fair proposition to me. God knows that I’ve used enough of their horses and enough of their supplies. Is it something here locally?”
They were in Billy Vail’s office in Denver, which was the headquarters for the district.
“No,” Vail said, “it’s not that local, Longarm. I think you’ll be taking a little trip.”
Longarm brought his chair to the floor with a thump. “How long of a trip? I just got back from one. I’m due a little relaxing and laying around time. I don’t mind law work, but does it always have to be at such long range?”
Vail laughed. “Don’t you want to live up to your nickname of Longarm? The long arm of the law? Why, Custis, you’re the most famous deputy marshal in the country.”
Longarm said, “Billy, turn me over. You’ve buttered me well enough on this side.”
Billy Vail chuckled. He was a man with thinning gray hair. He and Longarm had a running battle about each other’s ages. Vail would never admit to more than forty-five, even though Longarm had accused him of being well past retirement age. “I’m sorry you said that, Custis. It was absolutely unnecessary considering the favor I’m going to do you, knowing how you like to travel in this particular area.”
Longarm looked wary. “Just tell me gently.”
Billy turned in his swivel chair and put both of his arms on his desk, locking his hands together. “Our friends at Fort Concho are having a little trouble. They need a first-class lawman to come down there and straighten things out.”
At the mention of Fort Concho, Longarm’s face fell. “Oh, my God, Billy. No … don’t tell me that. First of all, I don’t ever want to go back to Texas. Secondly, Fort Concho is in San Angelo, and that is the worst place in the world. My God, I could live the rest of my life and never go near San Angelo. That place is as dry as a whore’s kiss and about as sincere. Those people that live there have been trying to scratch a living out of that hardscrabble ground so long, they have all turned as tight and as mean as a wildcat eating green persimmons. Don’t say Fort Concho to me and damn sure don’t say San Angelo to me. Hell, Billy. No!”
Billy put up a placating hand and said, “Just hold on, just hold on. This one is important. You are the perfect man for it.”
“I cannot think of anything happening in San Angelo, Texas, that would be important enough to rate even a glimmer of my attention.”
Billy Vail went on earnestly. “Custis, they’ve got about a hundred and ten, hundred and twenty men and officers in garrison there. To refresh your memory, Fort Concho was established in 1850, back during the Indian troubles, and has been there ever since, part of a chain of forts along the southern edge of Texas and on into New Mexico and Arizona. Well, things have been pretty quiet until lately. They’ve had five soldiers killed there in the past two months.”
Longarm said, “I don’t want to appear unsympathetic, Billy, but what the hell does that have to do with me? If you’re a soldier, you got a chance at getting killed, and if you’re a soldier at an Indian fort, you got an even better chance.”
Billy slapped the flat of his hand on the top of his desk. “Aw, hell, Custis, Don’t talk nonsense. There hasn’t been any Indian trouble in that country in ten years, and besides that, these soldiers were not killed in the line of duty. Custis, somebody has been murdering soldiers at that fort.”
Custis got out another cheroot and lit it. It was a small, cheap cigar. It wasn’t his preference. But sometimes he felt like being noble and denying himself the luxury of the long panatellas he liked.
“Murdering, Billy? They’ve been murdering soldiers? More than likely, they committed suicide just because they couldn’t get out of the damn place. If anybody killed them, it was because the soldiers discovered the one sprig of grass growing around there, or maybe the one drop of water still left in the damn place, and the civilians wanted it for themselves. Why would civilians want to murder soldiers anyway?”
Billy Vail shook his head. “I don’t know. That’s the strangest part of it. You would think that a town like San Angelo, being no bigger than it is—what is it, around five thousand?”
Longarm nodded. “Maybe a little bigger.”
“Well, you would think that a town like that would want soldiers hanging around there spending their pay, but the town has been on a tear to get that post moved. They’ve written congressmen, they’ve complained. It doesn’t make a damn bit of sense, but there it is. And now, here come these murders.”
“Well, why in hell didn’t the army just shut down the fort and move them if the town didn’t want them there. Like you said, there hasn’t been any Indian trouble around that country since Lord knows when. The Comanches have been staying on the reservations and the Apaches are all in New Mexico—western New Mexico at that. Why doesn’t the army just move them?”
Billy Vail said, “Where? When you’ve got a bunch of soldiers on the payroll, you’ve got to keep them somewhere. You can’t keep them all in Washington, D.C. You’ve got a fort, you’ve got to put soldiers in it. Hell, Custis, don’t you know anything?”