“No need for that, Marshal. I told you he’s dead.”
“I have to make sure. Someone must have buried him and I need that information for my investigation. I’ll be seeing you around, George.”
“I doubt it.”
Longarm frowned. “Why?”
“Either the Marble brothers or whoever the hell gut-shot Red will kill you first.”
“I wouldn’t bet on that,” Longarm said. “A lot of men have tried, and a lot of men have died.”
“Jake would have killed you for sure, Marshal. Nothin’ he liked better than to kill some sonofabitchin’ lawman.”
“Well, then, I’m glad he was killed for that just saves me the trouble,” Longarm said as he reined his horse around an started to ride on.
Longarm hadn’t ridden twenty feet when he heard George curse. Instinctively, Longarm threw himself from Splash as George opened fire. Striking the ground, Longarm rolled over twice, dragging his own gun up and firing. His bullets struck George in the chest.
The man folded to his knees trying to raise his weapon and fire again.
Longarm hurried over to George and saw that the man was dying. “Who are you really?”
“Go to hell!”
“You’re Jake Mill, aren’t you?”
Jake’s eyes burned with hatred but he locked his teeth, unwilling to cooperate.
“Well,” Longarm said, “I guess that Jake Mill wasn’t such a top gunman after all. In fact, you were piss-poor, in my professional opinion.”
Jake choked with rage. “Tom and Dave will get you! Your luck can’t last forever!”
Longarm collected the man’s gun. “Luck had absolutely nothing to do with me beating you to the draw. I knew you were a damned outlaw.”
“How!”
“This gun. You’ve cut notches on its handle. Pretty stupid thing to do, Jake. Besides that, you’re wanted for murder and I had your description. I wasn’t sure it was you until you began to brag about how good Jake Mill was with a gun. After that, there was no doubt in my mind.”
“But … but you turned your back to me!”
“Yeah,” Longarm said, “but I was making my play knowing that you would be taking your time thinking you could drill me. So you see, I had you figured out right from the start and you never really had a chance.”
The outlaw tried to curse, but instead began to cough up blood. Longarm went back to his horse and remounted. Jake was almost gone, and Longarm figured that someone would eventually come along to bury the sorry, back-shooting bastard.
Longarm pushed his horse hard, and arrived in Durango three days later. He and Splash were tired and hungry, so he wasted no time in getting the paint into a good livery and himself into the best hotel in town. He had a bath, a shave, and a steak in that order. When he stepped out of the cafe, the sun had gone down and Longarm was feeling human again. Human enough to even go in search of a couple of whiskeys and maybe a low-stakes game of monte or poker.
There was another reason why he thought it would be a good idea to socialize, and that was to ask questions about the Marble brothers. Longarm’s information said that they wouldn’t be in Durango, but one could never be certain. This was their backyard, and people in these parts could be expected to know of their comings and goings.
Longarm knocked the trail dust off his coat and went out to socialize. Durango was a pretty little town, but it wasn’t all that big. He stopped at a saloon named the Flying Beaver and ordered a whiskey.
“Nice town,” he said with a smile to the bartender.
“We like it.”
“So do I. You lived here long?”
“About twenty years,” the bartender said, not acting all that friendly. “Drinks are four bits each.”
“Here,” Longarm said, paying the man and leaving him an extra dime. “And here’s to your good health!”
Longarm’s hearty salute didn’t even raise a smile out of the taciturn bartender, but he wasn’t ready to quit yet. “Nice saloon. I like the way you’ve got it fixed up with all the animal heads mounted on the walls and this fine mahogany bar. Yes, sir, this is a real fine little establishment.”
Instead of being flattered and pleased like any normal human being, the bartender just growled, “You wanna buy the gawdamn joint? Sell ‘er to you cheap.”
“Sorry, but I’m not interested.”
“Then who cares about what you think the place looks like?” the bartender snapped as he marched off to serve his regulars at the other end of the bar.
“Grouchy sonofabitch,” Longarm muttered, finishing his whiskey and heading for the door without so much as even a wave of farewell.
The Square Peg Saloon looked to be a friendlier and much busier watering hole. Longarm went inside and had to wait a few moments in order to shoulder his way up against the bar and hail a bartender, who called, “What’ll it be, stranger?”
“Whiskey!”
“Imported and in a bottle … or homegrown and served out of a mason jar?”
“Imported.”
“Coming right up!”
Longarm thought the bartender was kidding about the homegrown whiskey until he saw him refilling another man’s glass from a big mason jar.
“Four bits of a shot of Old Respectable, a fine brand of whiskey if I do say so myself,” the bartender said to Longarm, arriving with an impressive-looking green bottle.
“Thanks,” Longarm said. “Have you lived in this part of the country long?”
“Not nearly as long as I hope to,” the bartender said, hurrying away.
Longarm turned to his right and looked into the glassy eyes of a drunkard who was clinging to the edge of the bar and swaying as if he were bracing himself against a high wind. “Howdy,” the man said with a lopsided grin. “Wanna buy me another drink?”
“No,” Longarm replied, taking his whiskey and moving down the bar in search of someone who might give him a few leads on the Marble brothers.
He spotted an opening at the bar and eased up to a reasonably sober-looking cowboy. “How you doin’?” Longarm asked.
“I’m lookin’ for a pretty gal named Alice and not seem’ her right now,” the cowboy said, craning his head all around. “That’s how I’m doin’.”
“I see some gals over there,” Longarm said, pointing them out to the cowboy.
“Them’s new whores to town and they want more money than I got left. Besides, I am crazy about Alice. But she’s probably with some other fella.”
“I suppose,” Longarm said. “You happen to know either Dave or Joe Marble?”
The cowboy finally looked at Longarm. “Of course. Everyone knows ‘em.”
“You seen them in town lately?”
“Nope, but then, I ain’t been in town much myself. Just got paid and now I can’t even poke Alice until someone else has had his fill of her.”
“Do the Marble brothers live around here?”
“Naw, they sold their place a couple years ago and they keep on the move.” The cowboy regarded Longarm closely. “Why you askin’ about them boys?”
“They owe me.”
“Well, you ain’t likely to collect anything but a damned bullet.”
“They’re pretty tough, huh?”
“Yep, and as techy as teased snakes.”
“I see. Maybe they’re in Cortez.”
“Probably,” the cowboy said. “I heard that’s the last place they were spotted.”
“How long ago?”
“About two weeks. Last I heard, they were rustlin’ cattle again. Mostly, though, they rob banks and stagecoaches. Them boys are good at it and always have a lot of money.”
“I see.” Longarm tossed down his drink and ordered one for the cowboy and another for himself. He and the cowboy talked awhile more, but then Alice appeared and the cowboy jumped up and disappeared.
Longarm finished his drink and played a few hands of poker, hoping to learn more about the comings and goings of the Marble brothers. But no one at the card table was in a mind for loose talk, so Longarm quit the game and went up to his room and went to bed.