Chapter 8
Early the next morning Longarm got up and sent a telegram to Marshal Billy Vail explaining how he and Marshal Oatman had found two dead bodies at the St. Clair Ranch and that there were no suspects in sight.
Billy replied almost immediately with a very short, terse telegram that read:
FIND AND ARREST MARSHAL LINK ST. CLAIR
Well, Longarm thought, that’s plenty clear enough. Longarm understood that because Link St. Clair was a sworn federal officer of the law, Billy felt that the man had to be either cleared of any wrongdoing or arrested with as little public attention as possible and the sooner the better.
Longarm had some breakfast and then went to see Marshal Oatman. “Are we headed back out to the ranch soon?”
“Yeah, just as quick as Arnie can find us a buckboard and get it hitched up and ready to roll.”
“He wouldn’t . . .” Longarm’s voice trailed off.
“Wouldn’t what?” Oatman asked.
“Wouldn’t hitch Homer and Hammer up to a wagon, would he?”
Despite the grimness of the job they faced this morning, Oatman managed a tired smile. “Don’t worry. Arnie knows that those paint geldings would wreck a wagon and probably kill anyone driving or riding in it.”
“Good,” Longarm said with relief. “Have you come up with any local suspects since we got back last night?”
“Afraid not. What you said about Link makes a lot of sense.”
“It does, but what a good lawman can’t afford to do is to jump to conclusions and put his entire focus on what might be an innocent man.”
“Are you changing your mind about Link being the most likely killer?”
“No,” Longarm replied. “I still think he either killed and robbed the Chinaman . . . or knows who did.”
“So we just have to find him.”
“That’s what I was sent up here to do and nothing has changed. Did you go to the bank yet and see if the Chinaman had a savings account?”
“He did, but not a lot,” Oatman said. “So it seems likely that either most of the Chinaman’s money is hidden on the ranch or it was stolen.”
“What about the other man, Otto?”
“I also checked at the bank and was surprised to learn that he put most of his earnings in the bank. But that doesn’t mean he didn’t have cash stashed away somewhere at the ranch like the Chinaman.”
“Was Otto a spender, gambler, or heavy drinker?” Longarm asked.
“He was a loner and he’d have a few beers when he came into town, but I always got the impression that he was very tight with his money. Otto was kind of a surly fella and I don’t think he had many friends in Cheyenne.”
“But he might have had at least a few,” Longarm offered. “And when we get back with the bodies, I’ll need to talk to them.”
“Come to think of it, he was pretty fond of Gloria Pope.”
“And who is she?”
“She’s a fat and over-the-hill whore that works at a run-down hotel here in town.”
“I’ll talk to her as soon as we return.”
“Let’s go over to the livery and see if we can put the prod on Arnie. I’d like to get out there and retrieve those bodies as soon as possible. They’re already plenty ripe and way overdue for burying.”
Longarm thought that was the truest thing he’d heard this morning.
* * *
Longarm wasn’t at all surprised to see that Arnie’s buckboard was in poor shape and the horses hitched to it old, scrawny, and weak. “Charlie, is this the best that we can get for this job?”
“Oh, I’ll agree that they sure don’t look like much, but they’ll pull the wagon to the ranch and back.”
“I hope so.” Now that Longarm knew that the marshal was courting Arnie’s daughter, he understood that any argument on this matter would be pointless.
“It’s not that far to the ranch and back,” Arnie reminded them. “Just go easy on these old horses and you’ll be fine.”
Longarm was so annoyed that he had to bite his tongue and keep quiet as they drove out of Cheyenne.
* * *
They finally arrived at the St. Clair Ranch around noon and when they entered the house to collect the Chinaman, Longarm pulled up short.
“What’s the matter!” Oatman asked with alarm.
“Someone has been here since we left last night,” Longarm told the man, drawing his gun. “And they might still be around.”
Oatman also unholstered his pistol and looked around. “How do you know?”
“The pantry,” Longarm explained. “It was well stocked with tins when I was here last night and now it’s nearly empty.”
“You remember what was in the pantry?”
“Not exactly, but I did recall that it was full. And there was a smoked ham on the butcher-block counter that’s missing. Also, it’s clear that someone searched every drawer and cranny in this kitchen.”
“Looking for even more food?”
“No,” Longarm said, “looking for something of much greater value. Money, gold, or precious stones.”
“But . . .”
“Let’s search the house again,” Longarm said. “And be ready just in case we’re not the only ones here and for cripes’ sakes don’t accidently shoot me in the back if something happens fast.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” the town marshal replied, trying to hide the tension in his voice.
* * *
A few minutes later it was obvious that there was no one else inside. Longarm made his way outside and quickly circled the ranch house. “Look,” he said coming back around to join Oatman. “Someone was here early this morning and they tied their horse at that tree and entered by the back door.”
Longarm studied fresh hoofprints leading toward the ridge and the west. “Our killer is running. He’d have known we were coming back for the bodies this morning and so he returned and found provisions and whatever else he needed to go on the run and then he took off in a helluva hurry.”
“Link?”
“Only one way to find out,” Longarm said. “I’ll have to take one of those old wagon horses and see if there’s a saddle in the barn and go after whoever was here.”
“But you’d never catch them on either of those horses.”
Longarm knew that Chief Marshal Oatman was right. Yet, it really galled him to give the killer an extra three or four hours. Still, he needed to get some supplies of his own before he set off on what could be a long and difficult manhunt.
“You’re right,” he said. “Let’s pitch those bodies into the buckboard and make those old horses move faster going to the barn.”
“Don’t want to risk killing them,” Oatman cautioned. “Arnie sets quite a store by those horses. Said he’s had them more’n twenty years.”
“I’d have guessed forty years from their appearance,” Longarm said caustically. “Let’s go!”
* * *
The buckboard ride back to Cheyenne was slow and tedious. Longarm tried to make the old horses walk faster but they refused. So when they finally reached Cheyenne he handed the lines over to Oatman and said, “Take ’em to the mortuary and have someone put them in the ground before sunset.”
“I’ll do that. What about you?”
“I’m going to find a good horse, buy some provisions and a rifle, and be on my way in two hours or less. I need to pick up that trail behind the ranch house before dark and try to make up some ground on the killer.”
“Sure wish I wasn’t tethered to this town,” Oatman complained. “I’d like to go with you and see how you work.”
“I work fast and this buckboard ride has been an agony given the time that has been wasted,” Longarm told the man as he jumped off and trotted over to his hotel to get his belongings.
Ten minutes later Longarm locked his room door and headed downstairs through the lobby. “Marshal, I understand that there are two murders out at the St. Clair Ranch,” the desk clerk called. “Not surprising.”
Longarm stopped. “Why would you say that?”
“Something wasn’t right out there. That old man that you found murdered, well, he would stay here a couple nights a month with his whore and I overheard the talk.”
“What talk?”
But the desk clerk shook his head. “Just talk. I knew that Otto hated Link St. Clair and that they’d had words. He also didn’t like the Chinaman. But then, Otto didn’t like anyone other than that whore.”
“Whose name is Gloria Pope?”
“Yeah. Can you believe a whore would give herself the name of the pope!”
“Where can I find her?”
“Upstairs where you just came from,” the clerk said. “She’s with someone, though.”
“Room number?”
“Listen, I can’t . . . oh, what the hell. Room number eight.”
Longarm dropped his gear and headed up the stairs. He was in a hurry, but if Gloria Pope was upstairs, then he figured he’d better take a few minutes and find out what she knew that might help him learn something valuable.
* * *
The door at room eight wasn’t locked so Longarm barged inside to see a pair that were as naked as old, plucked chickens and just about as attractive. Gloria was on top and she was big with rolls of fat around her waist that were bouncing almost as violently as her huge breasts and buttocks. The man underneath her looking like he was being pounded through the mattress was small and skinny. He was still wearing his socks that had gaping holes in both toes.
“Jaysus!” Gloria shouted, twisting around to glare at Longarm. “You’re gonna have to wait your damned turn outside. This isn’t some gawdamn peep show, you big pervert!”
“Get off him!” Longarm yelled loud enough to get the whore’s full attention. “I’m a marshal and we need to talk right now.”
“Can’t I at least finish him up so I won’t have to do it all over again for my money?” Gloria whined. “All I need is about thirty more seconds.”
The skinny man being ridden so hard wheezed, “Please, Marshal, I’m almost there!”
“Oh, for hell sakes,” Longarm spat, whirling around and exiting the room. “You got one minute!”
A minute had almost passed when the skinny man let out a whoop and then the bedsprings went silent. Longarm, out of simple decency, gave them another couple of minutes.
“Thank you,” the skinny man said, pulling on his pants as he shot out the door.
“You’re welcome,” Longarm replied, stepping back into the room to see Gloria lying on the bed with her big, pale thighs spread open. “Want some of this while we talk? Only cost you a dollar, Marshal.”
“Hell no!” Longarm growled. “Cover yourself up, woman. I’m about to get sick to my stomach.”
“Well, screw you!” she hissed, whipping the covers over her and pulling them up to her neck.
“You’re Gloria Pope and you were a favorite of a man named Otto who worked at the St. Clair Ranch.”
“Yeah, we like each other. I am the only friend Otto has. He wants to marry me.”
“If he wants to marry you, then he must have been . . .” Longarm bit back the last of the comment.
Gloria’s expression changed. “Otto must have what?”
“I’m sorry to have to tell you that Otto is dead.”
Gloria’s hand flew to her mouth. “Oh, no!”
“He and the Chinaman who worked at the ranch were murdered and I’m trying to find out who did it and why.”
“That dirty, murdering bastard! I told Otto to watch out for himself.”
“Who are you talking about?”
“Link St. Clair, of course! Otto hated the man and so did the Chink. They were both going to quit.”
“Why would Link kill those two?”
“Money.” Gloria wiped a tear from her chubby cheeks. “Otto had been saving up for years and he always told me he was going to take me out of the whorehouse and we’d go someplace far away where no one knew either of us. He was going to buy a little house and we’d live happily ever after.”
“And you believed him?”
“Of course! Otto really loved me. I was saving up some money on my own and even though he was twenty-three years older than me he could still fuck like a young buck. And he was decent to me.” She sobbed, entire mountain of fat shaking now. “I loved Otto. We didn’t just fuck, we talked a lot and held hands, too.”
“How much money had Otto saved all these years?”
“About three thousand and I have about a thousand. We figured that would take us far away and give us a good, fresh start.” She dropped the sheet that had been pulled up to her neck, bent her head and began to cry.
“Gloria,” Longarm said, feeling pretty rotten about what he’d been thinking about this woman, who obviously had loved a man that no one else seemed to have liked. “I’m sorry. I really am. I’m going to try to find the man that killed Otto and the Chinaman. If it’s Link St. Clair, then I’ll bring him to justice and that will mean a necktie party.”
She looked up, sniffling. “If you find him, he’ll have Otto’s money. A thousand dollars was hidden at the ranch, the rest is in the bank. It should belong to me.”
“That won’t be up to me to decide,” Longarm told her. “How much do you think that the Chinaman had stashed away at the ranch?”
Gloria shrugged. “He put money in the bank, but Otto always thought he had large stashes squirreled away at the ranch.”
“Do you have any idea what happened to Mrs. Lilly St. Clair?”
“No,” Gloria said in a small, sad voice. “She was real nice and her husband didn’t treat her right. I wouldn’t be surprised if she just ran away or if Link killed her, too.”
“Describe her for me please.”
“What?”
“Tell me the color of her hair and her height.”
Gloria did as she was asked. “That’s the same woman I saw in Denver only a few days ago with a man she said was her father. Their buggy was a runaway and it overturned right in the middle of town. The old man died and then Lilly St. Clair disappeared. Any idea where she might have gone?”
Gloria Pope sniffled and blew her nose on a dirty handkerchief, then used it to wipe herself downstairs. “You know where I think she is?”
“No.” Longarm had turned away for a moment, repulsed by what Gloria was doing. Now, he turned back to her and asked, “Where?”
“Underground,” Gloria gravely pronounced. “That handsome bastard Link St. Clair murdered all three of them as sure as we were born.”
“Do you know if he had family somewhere? Or a friend or a place that he talked about liking? Anything you know would be of help.”
Gloria leaned back on the pillow. “Otto said that he talked a lot about the gold fields in California. Said he’d been there and had struck it rich some years ago and that he always talked about going back and retrieving some gold nuggets that he’d hidden in the Sierra foothills east of Sacramento.”
“Are you sure that’s what he said?” Longarm asked.
“Yes, and Otto told me that more’n once. Said that Link was always talking about a gold town called . . . I forgot.”
“Try hard to remember. If you want me to help you get that money back, then you need to remember.”
“Gold Hill! That was the name of the town. She wiped her nose on the sheet. “You know, Marshal, you nearly scared the shit out of poor little Marvin just a few minutes ago.”
“I didn’t intend to.”
“A handsome man like you ought to know when to knock.”
“Sorry. Are you sure it was called Gold Hill?”
“Pretty sure.” Gloria Pope began to cry so Longarm left the room in a hurry. He would sure as hell try to overtake Link before the man could rendezvous with a train that would take him through Reno and then over the Sierras to a town called Gold Hill. And if he failed to do that, he would wire Billy Vail for more money and if Billy didn’t want to foot the expenses, then Longarm would just have to figure out what next to do. And at the top of his list was to find out for sure if Lilly St. Clair really was dead and buried.