Longarm had to keep everything in balance. Two carpenters from Valmere; two carpenters from Stonecipher. One man with pick and shovel from Wyoming; one man with pick and shovel from Nebraska. And never mind that only one man at a time could work in the hole that would serve as the latrine. Balance between the twin towns, always balance.
“When you’re finished putting that last wall in place,” he told them, “start on the outhouse. An’ after that, build me some stools, a cot for inside the cell, stuff like that. We can’t afford t’ buy ready-made furniture so’s we’ll just build what we need. Oh, an’ make me a desk, too, please. An’ some shelves to go on that wall there. I’ll need someplace t’ file the records.” He sighed. “Two pairs o’ shelves, I suppose, since the records will have t’ be kept separate for the two towns.”
“That will keep us busy another two, maybe three days,” carpenter Tom Faroe said.
“Whatever it takes,” Longarm told the man. Faroe was a good worker, sent by Cal Bonham, the Stonecipher storekeeper; Longarm liked Faroe. Liked Bonham too for that matter.
“Are you leaving already, Marshal?”
“Just t’ see to my prisoner. I figure to take him for lunch, then back here so’s he can have the honor of bein’ the first prisoner in that brand-new jail cell. For a few days anyhow till the Wyoming circuit judge gets here. Then I s’pose you boys will have to come back an’ build us a gallows.”
“Whatever you say, Marshal,” Faroe said.
Longarm headed across the wide street to Garrett Franz’s general mercantile, where Dave Ashford was chained to a post. When he got there the prisoner was curled up into a tight ball, lying with his back to the store.
“Wake up, Ashford. It’s time I can take you for a shit an’ a wash and something to eat. Personally I’m hungry, so rattle your bones an’ get around, man.”
Ashford did not move. Longarm nudged him in the butt with the toe of his boot. Still the man did not so much as quiver.
“Uh-oh!” Longarm knelt behind the man, wary lest Ashford was trying to pull a fast one and make a break for freedom.
Dave Ashford was already free. Free from bondage, free from pain, free from life.
“Well, shit,” Longarm said, rising to his feet. He removed his Stetson and wiped his forehead.
He turned to Franz and asked, “Is there a doctor hereabouts?”
“Over in Lusk there’s a pretty good man. I don’t know as he’d be willing to come here, but we’ve sent a few of our really sick folks over to him. The drive only takes a day and a half,” Franz said.
“We’re not gonna go t’ all that trouble,” Longarm said. He knelt again, rolled Ashford onto his back, and began unbuttoning the man’s shirt.