Longarm on the Thunderbird Run

Vail paused for a moment before he looked down at the message that Henry thought so important.

The job applicant, poor man, honestly did not realize that he had no chance of finding employment here. He was short and tubby—no harm in that, of course. Vail himself was none too much for height and his waistline had expanded since the years when he served in the field, first as a Texas Ranger, and then later as a deputy marshal himself. But the applicant had a look about him that said he was soft, too. Oh, he thought himself rugged enough for the job, that self-opinion based on eight months’ service as a railroad detective. Billy Vail was not fooled, though. The man simply did not have what it took to be a federal deputy. Vail could see it in the man’s eyes and hear it in the undertones beneath the blustering, frequently bragging voice. The marshal was only finishing out the interview as a politeness. He had no intention of hiring this one, even if they were shorthanded at the moment.

“Um. Yes. With you in a moment.” Vail ignored both the applicant and Henry and concentrated on the telegram.

He read it through, double-checked the signature at the bottom, and read it through again.

“Damn!” he exclaimed.

“I thought you’d want to know right away,” Henry said.

“Yes. You did the right thing. Thanks.”

Henry remained standing by the desk, waiting for instructions.

Vail, although he knew perfectly well what the date was, checked the calendar on his desk and swore again. “We don’t have much time, Henry.”

“Three days,” Henry confirmed.

“Where is—”

“Vacation,” Henry responded quickly. “He never said where we could contact him.”

“Smiley?”

“He’s already left, boss.”

“You’re sure?”

Henry nodded. “He came by last night to pick up his travel vouchers. I happened to be here, finishing up some work after hours. He stopped in, oh, after nine it would’ve been.” It was common enough for faithful Henry to stay late into the night when there was paperwork to be completed. Vail knew that and appreciated the man’s dedication, even if he seldom said so. “He said he would be taking a train out at first light.”

“Did he say which line? We might be able to wire ahead and intercept him somewhere?”

“No, he didn’t. He’s on his way down to Durango to meet Dutch, and could be taking any of three rail lines out of Denver. Half a dozen different stage connections he might be thinking of making to get there. Smiley’s out. So is Dutch, for that matter. I don’t think we could get him up to Idaho in time, even if there was a telephone connection to Durango and you could talk to him right now.”

“Damn,” Vail muttered again.

“I could go,” the interviewee said hopefully. “Whatever it is, Marshal, I could handle it.”

Vail ignored him. So did Henry. If the marshal was not interested in accepting that offer, his clerk damn sure was not going to put an oar into the water.

“Long isn’t too far away,” Henry suggested. “We might be able to catch him with a wire to the sheriff at Snake Creek.”

“And we might not catch him there,” Billy Vail mused aloud. “If we miss him at Snake Creek

”

“He’s the closest man we have. It’s worth trying.”

“But if we don’t reach him?”

“Boss, Longarm is just about the only chance we have to nip this thing before it happens. We just don’t have anyone else.”

“Damn. Damn, damn, damnit! I’d go myself except that senatorial delegation is due in town tomorrow. The attorney general has already made it clear what is at stake there. If I don’t show to hold their damn hands we could lose half our appropriation for next year. Senator Charlesworth gets his feelings hurt awfully easily, they say.” Basically he was just thinking aloud, and Henry knew it.

“I could go,” the job applicant said again. “Honestly, boss, I could handle it.”

This time, at the man’s presumption in the use of “boss.” Vail scowled, effectively shutting the fellow up. Vail looked down toward the telegram again.

INFORMATION FROM PRISONER WALDO STONE RE FORMER WHITE HOOD GANG INDICATES IMPENDING PAYROLL ROBBERY THIS FRIDAY AT THUNDERBIRD MINE COMMA THUNDERBIRD CANYON COMMA IDAHO STOP TRAIN HIJACK PLANNED BY SURVIVING GANG MEMBERS STOP STONE EXCHANGES INFORMATION FOR GOOD BEHAVIOR PAROLE RECOMMENDATION STOP SAYS MAIL CAR COMMA THUNDERBIRD CANYON NARROW GAUGE LINE COMMA TO BE HIT AT THUNDERBIRD TERMINUS STOP SCHEDULED ARRIVAL IS MIDAFTERNOON FRIDAY STOP MY BELIEF THIS FALLS UNDER YOUR JURISDICTION STOP FURTHER INFORMATION WILL FOLLOW IF AVAILABLE STOP SIGNED JOHNSON COMMA WARDEN COMMA FORT SMITH DETENTION

“Damn,” Billy Vail said yet again.

“I already checked the map, boss. Thunderbird Canyon is—”

“Oh, I know where it is, Henry. I was there once, as a matter of fact. It’s a silver-mining camp way the hell and gone back in the mountains on the Idaho side of the Idaho-Wyoming border country. There wasn’t any railroad when I was there, though. Just the damnedest eyelash trail you ever saw. Everything had to move by mule then, in or out. The trail was too poor to trust a horse on, and even the mules lost footing now and then.” Vail shook his head. He was still thinking aloud, and Henry kept his mouth shut while the boss pondered the problem.

A payroll was going to be lifted from a mail car under the protection of the U.S. government, and because of the short manpower of the moment and the poor transportation facilities, it looked like Billy Vail might have foreknowledge of a planned crime and yet be unable to do a thing about it.

“There is some local law there,” Henry suggested. “I looked it up.”

“Who?” There was eagerness in Billy Vail’s voice. It was unusual for the federal government to appeal to local authority for assistance, but it was certainly not unheard of. Vail looked like he was willing to grasp at a straw if that was all he had to cling to on this one.

Henry pulled a note out of his pocket and glanced at it. “The sheriff’s name is Markham. Paul S. Markham.”

Vail rolled his eyes. “Damnit, Henry.”

“Something wrong, boss?”

“Do you know Paul Sebastian Markham?”

“Never heard of him.”

“Well, I wish I could say as much.”

“A bad one, boss?”

“What? Oh.” Vail sighed heavily. “No, Henry, Paul isn’t a bad apple, if that’s what you mean. He’s honest enough. The poor man’s just incompetent. Not his fault, of course. He just doesn’t have it.” Without saying it aloud Vail noted to himself that Paul Markham was very much like Vail expected this job applicant to be. Full of himself and a blusterer and undernourished in the brainpower department.

“We could go ahead and send a warning to him for whatever good it might do.”

Vail sat back and rubbed a palm over his balding scalp while he stared at the ceiling and pondered. “Yes, we’ll have to do that, of course. And try to contact Longarm. If we get lucky we might catch him at Snake Creek. He’s close enough he could reach Thunderbird Canyon by Friday. If we get the message to him in time. If.” He sighed again. “If it wasn’t for that damned delegation of senators

”

“I’ll get the wires off right away to Sheriff Markham and to Longarm,” Henry said. “And if you like, boss, I can draw a weapon and get on a train myself. I could make connections from here. Through Cheyenne and South Pass. You could give me a temporary commission easily enough. We’ve had to do it before, you know.” Henry smiled gently.

Vail looked at the mild-seeming little man and smiled back at him. Yes, he remembered several such occasions from the past. Everything Henry did he did gently. But he was tenacious and honest and decent. He drew a clerk’s meager salary, but that never stopped him from volunteering for hazardous duty when the need arose.

“If you left right now, Henry, you might not be able to make coach connections between the rails.”

“And if I sit here in Denver we know I won’t make those connections. I’m willing to give it a try, boss.” Henry smiled. “After getting those wires off to Longarm and Sheriff Markham, that is.”