Longarm and the Train Robbers

"So," Cotton said, buffing his badge with the cuff of his sleeve. "What exactly can I do for you?"

"As you might imagine," Longarm began, "I'm looking for the men who derailed and robbed that Union Pacific passenger train. I have reason to believe that Eli Wheat--a prisoner I was transporting back to Denver--was a member of that gang and escaped with them."

"Hmmm. Interesting. Unfortunately, I've never met this Wheat fella, but if you want to give me his description, I'll sure enough keep a sharp eye peeled for him."

Longarm was not impressed. "It's damned unlikely that Wheat would ride into Laramie. He was pretty well known and would be easily recognized by too many people. What I am looking for is anyone who has caught your eye as being a stranger and having a lot of money."

"Well," Cotton said, placing his boots up on his desk and lacing his fingers behind his head, "as you know, this is a railroad town. We get a lot of folks passing through and some of them do have a considerable amount of money."

Cotton chuckled, then winked conspiratorially. "Money that our local gambling halls and painted ladies take great pains to extract and invest in our local economy. If you know what I mean."

"I know what you mean," Longarm replied, deciding that this man was a complete fool. "Did you see any strangers enter Laramie in the last day or two on horseback?"

Cotton dropped his folksy facade and put his boots on the floor. "Now listen here, Deputy. Laramie is a damn busy town and I'm a busy man. There are no less than fifty big ranches within a hard day's ride, and all of them are constantly sending cowboys in to raise hell or to buy supplies. I couldn't begin to keep my eye on the comings or goings of all them cowboys and line riders."

"The men I seek," Longarm said, thinking that Jimmie Jeter's assessment of this incompetent sheriff had been right on the money, "would have been riding hard-used horses and wouldn't have necessarily had the look of cowboys."

"If they were on horseback, then how would a man know if they were cowboys or not?"

Longarm gave up. It was clear to him that further conversation with Sheriff Ike Cotton would be a complete waste of time. "Well," he said, coming to his feet, "that's a real good question."

Slightly mollified by this response, Cotton relaxed. "How can I help you, Deputy? I don't like other lawmen nosin' around in my town, but we are in the same line of work and we have to help each other."

"That's the way I see it."

"So what do you know?" Cotton asked point-blank.

"Not a damn thing," Longarm said. "I followed the outlaws to Laramie and-"

Cotton's double chins sagged. "They rode into my town?"

"Yes."

"How many?" Cotton exclaimed, almost falling out of his desk chair.

"I couldn't exactly say." Longarm frowned. "Somewhere between six and a dozen would be my guess."

"I'd have noticed them if they came here."

"They came in one and two at a time to avoid your notice," Longarm explained, saying what should have been obvious. "And for all I know, they might already have left the same way."

Cotton sighed with audible relief. "I sure hope so."

"I don't," Longarm said. "I hope they're here to the last man so that I can track them down."

"How do you propose to do that?"

"I'll just keep looking. And I know you will too."

"But I don't even know what to look for!" Cotton raised his hands, then let them fall helplessly to his sides. "You've got to give me something to work with."

"Look closely at every stranger," Longarm said. "See if their horses are wearing local brands or not. Ask them what ranches they are working. Find out if they're known by people hereabouts or are judged by the townspeople to be newcomers. And try to see if they've got any money."

"Cowboys coming into Laramie always have money to spend."

"Yeah, I'm sure that they do," Longarm said, "but these boys will have quite a lot of money."

"How much did they get?"

"All the U.P. would say was that there was several thousand dollars cash in their mail car safe. There may also have been other valuables and documents. Sheriff, my advice is that, if anyone tries to cash in jewelry, stocks, or such, let me know."

"I sure will!" The sheriff licked his lips and wrung his hands. "You know how poor the pay is for a lawman--especially on the local level."

"No one forced you to take the job.

"No one else wanted the job for fifty dollars a month!" Cotton looked away for a moment, beat the anger out of his voice, and said, "What's the reward money like on these train robbers, and particularly this Eli Wheat fella?"

"It's not been posted yet, but I imagine there is already at least a hundred dollar reward posted on Eli."

"Well, I'll sure be on the lookout for them," the sheriff said brightly. "And we should keep in close touch."

"I'll stop by at least once a day," Longarm said, though he knew that this sheriff would be pumping him for information and not gather a shred of his own. "I'm staying at the Outpost Hotel."

"Nice place! Best in town. I eat in their dining room on every payday." The sheriff dredged up a sad and slightly hopeful smile. "That's only once a month, but to tell you the truth, I'd give anything to eat there more often."

Longarm ignored the thinly veiled hint at a free meal and headed out the door. "I'm sure they like having you just as often as possible, Sheriff Cotton."

He checked into the Outpost Hotel, which mostly catered to the big game hunters that came to the West to kill trophy-sized buffalo, elk, moose, and grizzly bear. The Outpost Hotel was the finest establishment in Laramie, and beyond the means of a federal officer, but Longarm was dirty and tired, had spent too much time on the trail, and was in no mood to save the government money. Besides, the Outpost would send his expense vouchers into Marshal Vail's office, allowing Longarm to hang onto his travel expense money in case of an emergency. That was why he stayed there whenever he was passing through town.

"Hello, Deputy Long," the tall, elegant proprietor said with genuine warmth. "Welcome back!"

"Thank you, Earl. I just wish that the circumstances weren't so grim."

Earl pushed the register book at Longarm. "Forgive me for saying so, but you look very tired. I suppose that you've been working night and day on that train derailment and robbery."

"Not nights," Longarm admitted. "But I was on that train when it went down the mountainside. It was a miracle that any of us survived because it was very bad."

"I heard the locomotive rolled for half a mile."

"Not quite, but it's there forever. Fortunately, most of the coaches were light enough that they broke up on the mountainside instead of rolling all the way to the bottom of the gulch. Ours caught on some rocks or I wouldn't be here today."

"I can't imagine anything like that," Earl said. "It must have been a nightmare."

"It was. There were no dead children, thank God. But there were some ladies that died."

Earl's voice shook with passion. "I hope you find the... murderers who committed that terrible act."

"I'll find them," Longarm vowed. "In fact, I think they might even be in Laramie right now."

"No!" Earl whispered, leaning forward with an expression of pure amazement.

"I mean it. Earl, I've been a regular customer for three or four years, haven't I?"

"Oh, yes, sir!"

"Well, I want you to keep a sharp eye out for rough men with fast money."

"This isn't the kind of a place such men would frequent, Deputy Long."

"We can't be too sure of that. Sometimes when a man gets a lot of fast money, they step out of their normal haunts and try to show a little class."

"I've seen that happen," Earl admitted. "Usually they've just gotten lucky at cards. They rarely stay for more than one night as our guest and they never return."

"That would be the kind of men I'm looking for. There is one other small thing."

Earl leaned forward. "And that is?"

"I found this cigarette butt in a corral up on the mountain. I can't say for sure, but I'm confident that it was smoked by one of the train robbers."