Chapter 1
The question was whether Blue Tooth Tanner spoke true or false when he said he wasn't hungry after fifteen hours aboard the westbound Burlington overnight train in the custody of Deputy U.S. Marshal Custis Long of the Denver Federal District.
Lx)ngarm, as he was better known to friend and foe alike, knew just how he felt about the fair grub and genuine Arbuckle coffee they'd be serving up ahead in the dining car most any time now. For they'd both missed dinner back yonder in Chicago Town the previous evening because of all the paperwork it took to transfer a convicted road agent with homicidal tendencies from one court's jurisdiction to a more serious one. And they both had slept past breakfast aboard the train that morning.
Longarm's pocket watch and the way the autumn sun was glsiring down at the monotonous tawny prairie they were crossing were in total agreement that it was time for someone to be sounding the dining car chimes in the corridor outside their stuffy private compartment. Figuring on most any minute now, Longarm rose to his considerable height, even in low-heeled army boots, to see what he could do about his public image before exposing it to the snooty glances of the mostly greenhorn public a good old boy was likely to encounter on a train to Denver, which was getting
mighty fancy since they'd turned the old Cherry Creek gold fields into an official state capital.
Staring morosely at his lean, tanned self in that full-length mirror mounted on the compartment door, Longarm adjusted his limp shoestring tie. They'd made him wear it with a whole damned suit on official visits like this one ever since President Hayes and his Lemonade Lucy had made it to the White House with all those promises to tidy things up after the hell-for-leather Grant Administration.
The suit, of course, was a rough tobacco brown tweed that an active gent could act up in without it showing much. The free-swinging tails of the frock coat kept the Colt .44-40 he still had to pack, cross-draw, along with handcuffs and such, from disturbing dudes unduly in passing. He naturally kept his federal badge, identification, and back-up derringer completely out of sight until such times as he might have call to show them.
Few greenhorns noticed his spurless stovepipe boots under the cuffs of his snugly tailored pants. This far east, the broad-brimmed snuff-brown Stetson he wore telescoped in the High Plains style drew amused or confused glances now and again. But Longarm didn't care. Government regulations called for a hat and tie on duty in town. It didn't say what sort of hat.
Adjusting his Stetson cavalry-style, as if getting ready for an inspection by Miss Lemonade Lucy Hayes in the flesh, Longarm told his prisoner, "I ain't more anxious than yourself to get stared at in the dining car, old son. But this train won't get us into more discreet surroundings this side of sundown, Lord willing and the trestles all stay up. So there's two ways we can work her. Them handcuffs you have on won't attract too much notice if we put a flannel blanket over 'em from my possibles roll, as if you maybe had the ague and needed a lap robe whilst you eat."
"I ain't about to walk the length of this blamed train chained up like some wild beast!" the prisoner shouted.
raising his cuffed wrists to shake both fists at Longarm. "I'd rather starve!"
To which Longarm firmly replied, although not unkindly, "Speak for yourself. I'm hungry as a bitch wolf, and you were a wild beast when you shot that schoolmarm as you tore out of the Castle Rock Post Office."
Tanner said, "Aw, I was only trying to scare folks. I swear I never aimed at that gal coming outten a shop across the way. First time I noticed she was in my line of fire was when she commenced to flop about on the walk!"
Longarm muttered dryly, "It's a caution how folks do that, once they've been gut-shot with a .45. But as I was saying before you reminded me why I'm taking you back to Colorado, there's two ways. Trail bedding ain't all I carry with me in my possibles roll when I figure to be out in the field overnight."
Stretching some, Longarm reached for the McClellan saddle he'd lashed earlier to the baggage rack above his own seat. "My boss. Marshal Billy Vail, makes me tote cruel and unusual punishments along whether I need to use 'em or not. I told you when I picked you up last night I'd as soon just gun any asshole dumb enough to run from me, next to hauling him about chained hand and foot. But fair is fair and you just said you didn't want to traipse up to the dining car with me of your own free will."
Blue Tooth Tanner eyed the massive, brutal leg-irons warily as Longarm turned to face him with them, explaining, "If I was to fit one of these around each of your ankles, with the chain back behind that steel end-brace of your seat, I'd say it would almost be safe to leave you alone in here for, oh, five minutes?"
The more casually dressed prisoner smiled sheepishly, exposing the bucktooth that had died and turned slate blue to give him his handle as he replied, "Five or even six. Boss. I don't suppose I could get you to bring me back some
bread and butter, once you've finished your noon dinner up forward?"
Longarm almost said something dumb. Then he reflected that his prisoner might not try so hard at first if he thought he had plenty of time. So he simply nodded and said he might even manage a ham on rye if Tanner would promise not to escape before he got back.
Blue Tooth did, for all that meant. So Longarm hunkered down to chain Tanner's booted ankles securely. Then, lest a gent on his way to a federal hanging bruise his fool self in thrashing about, Longarm removed one wrist cuff and snapped it back in place with the chain threaded under the armrest at that same end of the green plush seat. Blue Tooth bitched it was an uncomfortable way to ride. Longarm told him it wasn't half as uncomfortable as it could get in any position by sundown without a bite to eat all day. Then he rose, put a thoughtful hand on the door latch, and studied his securely chained prisoner to see what he might have done wrong.
He couldn't see anything. Besides, Blue Tooth Tanner had been dumb enough during the robbery to disguise his horse face with a small domino mask covering only his nondescript oyster gray eyes. So Longarm figured he didn't have much to worry about. He nodded, said something about being back in less than an hour, and ducked out into the narrow corridor running a third the length of that particular car.
There were close to a dozen other cars, coach or Pullman, this side of the forward diner. Longarm knew his prisoner knew that. So he only moved up to the wider space near the front of their car, where he could still keep an eye on the door to his compartment, as he fished out a three-for-a-nickel cheroot and lit it.
A million years and, say, two dozen drags of smoke later, a young colored gent in a white linen jacket came along the corridor with a forearm's worth of flat chimes, banging them fit to bust as he called out more softly that
they were fixing to start serving up ahead.
Longarm saw he hadn't been the only one aboard with a growling stomach as soon as other doors along the corridor commenced to slide open. A mighty fine young blonde in a tan poplin duster popped out of her own compartment to lead the stampede, passing Longarm before the colored gent with the gongs made it up to him.
Longarm didn't care about the hungry blonde. He stopped the dining car crewman with a friendly smile and bet him four bits a lawman transporting a prisoner couldn't get served back here in a private compartment.
He lost, of course, and decided it was worth it when the easygoing colored gent produced a menu out of thin air and said he'd be back to take their order once he got done donging the others forward to dine the usual way.
There sure were a heap of them, male, female, handsome, not so handsome, and downright ugly. More than one old boy and at least two women who passed Longarm were dressed more ragged-ass than old Blue Tooth inside. None seemed to have any trouble easing by as Longarm stood his ground in that wider but far from spacious end of the corridor. Then a sort of gorilla or grizzly sporting a checked vest, white Texas hat, and Walker .45 conversion strode dead-center down on Longarm to grumble, "You're blocking my way, pilgrim."