Longarm and the Train Robbers (17 page)

About ten years
earlier, a significant Chinese population had been recruited to
Rock Springs by its mine owners in order to defeat a miners'
strike.  Longarm recalled that a mob of whites had soon attacked
and pillaged the thriving Chinatown and set it on fire.  The
leaders of the mob had put a twenty-dollar bounty on every
Chinaman, and six hundred dollars had been claimed before the
Governor of Wyoming had sent federal troops in to stop further
loss of life among the terrified Chinese.  Now, as Longarm
hurried up K Street, he could see that Chinatown had been rebuilt
larger than ever.

"I want a bath and
a shave," Longarm told the Chinaman in the barbershop.

The man bowed and
hurried away, his long, braided queue bobbing like a cork on a
fishing line.  In minutes, Longarm was soaking in a copper tub
while the Chinaman washed, dried, and pressed his clothes, then
poured Longarm a cup of delicious herb tea and waited to give him
the finest shave of his life.

Two hours later
and only a dollar shorter, Longarm returned to board the train. 
He caught his reflection in the train windows, and was satisfied
that he was looking almost human again.

Veronica barely
recognized Longarm when he took his seat.  "What a difference two
hours can make!" she exclaimed.  "How could you get so much done
in such a short time?"

"The Chinese are
amazing people," Longarm explained.  "They can do miracles and
are extremely quick and efficient."

Veronica smiled. 
"I have to admit that I didn't realize how handsome a man you
are, Custis."

"I hope that we
have a chance to become better acquainted in Reno."

"I doubt that will
be possible."

"Oh?"

"You told me that
there was another train wreck at Donner Pass.  I'm sure that
every bit of your time and energy will be directed toward that
terrible crime."

"Well, it will,"
he said quickly.  "But these things don't usually take forever to
clear up.  I was thinking about afterward."

"Afterward
what?"

Longarm took
Veronica's hand.  "Afterward we might go for a long buggy ride
and then have dinner."

"That would be
lovely... if it's all that you have in mind."

He decided to act
mildly offended.  "Why, Miss Greenwald!  Whatever are you trying
to say?"

"I'm trying to say
that when you fell asleep this afternoon you had what appeared to
be a very... stimulating dream."

"I
did?"

"Yes.  Very!  You
were calling a woman by name."

"I was?"  Longarm
could feel his cheeks warming.

"A Miss Martha
Noble... at first."

Longarm gulped. 
"You mean there were others?"

"Oh, yes!  Surely
the name of a woman named Milly is enough to quicken your desire,
eh, Mr. Long?"

Longarm sighed. 
There was really nothing he could say, so he excused himself and
went for a short walk and to smoke a cheroot.  Maybe by the time
they arrived in Reno, Miss Greenwald would be inclined to forget
about his amorous past.

CHAPTER
14

When the train
finally pulled into Reno, a federal marshal was standing in the
depot waiting for Longarm.  His tone and manner were decidedly
unfriendly.  "Custis Long?" he asked around a wad of chewing
tobacco.

"That's my name."
Longarm said, noting the man's badge and the worn six-gun
strapped low on his hip.  Longarm stuck out his hand.

The marshal
ignored the offered handshake.  He was a big, heavy-set man with
muttonchop whiskers and a potbelly.  He had deep-set eyes and a
fist-busted nose.  Longarm pegged him for a one-time
rounder.

Spitting a long
stream of tobacco juice onto the depot floor, the marshal barked,
"Follow me."

Longarm bristled,
taking an instant dislike to this man.  People who knew Longarm
quickly learned that a smile and a request would work wonders,
but that a command would have quite the opposite reaction.  "I'll
be along soon enough."

"You'll come
now!"

Longarm smiled,
but there was no warmth in his expression when he drawled, "The
hell you say."

The marshal had
been about to turn and lead them out of the throng of milling
train passengers, their friends, and their families when
Longarm's words pulled him up short.

"Listen to me,"
the marshal said, swinging around and jabbing a finger at
Longarm.  "You may be someone out in Colorado.  I don't know and
I don't care. But this is Nevada and you're going to be working
for me and taking my orders. And the first order is get your
skinny ass moving and follow me!"

Longarm glanced
over at Veronica Greenwald, who was standing nearby and gave him
a nervous smile.  Longarm had promised to wait and make sure that
there was someone to greet Veronica from the new school where she
was supposed to work.  Unfortunately, it didn't look like anyone
had bothered to welcome her to the West and serve as her
escort.

"What's your name,
Marshal?" Longarm said, turning his attention back to the big
man.

"Denton.  Bill
Denton.  Now-"

Longarm cut the
man off short.  "Well, Denton, you see this young schoolmarm
waiting for someone to greet her?"

Denton scowled at
Veronica.  "Yeah.  What about her?"

"I'm going to help
her find the school where she is starting a new teaching
job."

Denton exploded. 
"Don't you understand English?  I said you're coming with me
right now!"

Longarm gave up on
the big fool.  He turned on his heel toward Veronica, but Denton
grabbed him by the shoulder and spun him around.

Longarm drove a
powerful uppercut to Denton's protruding gut.  The marshal was
caught flat-footed with surprise.  His mouth, twisted in anger,
formed a big circle, and his eyes bugged as he sucked for air and
tried to recover.

Longarm hit him
again.  And again.  Denton weighed in at least fifty pounds
heavier than Longarm, who was not about to give the marshal a
chance to recover.  The crowd parted like the Red Sea as Longarm
drove Denton into a retreat across the depot floor.  Each time
the marshal tried to plant his feet and retaliate, Longarm's fist
hammered his jaw or turned his big gut to jelly. Denton's nose
cracked and flowed heavily.  His lips were soon mashed to pulp,
and one of his eyebrows was ripped by a slashing right uppercut. 
He was grunting with each blow, and when Longarm drew back and
smashed him one final time, Denton flew off the baggage loading
dock and landed on his back between two carriages waiting for
hire.

"You all right,
Marshal?" Longarm asked, flexing his fingers and then massaging
his bruised knuckles as he gazed down at the man.

Denton wasn't all
right.  Longarm's blows had left his face a misshapen mass of
welts and bruises.  Furthermore, though his fall from the loading
dock hadn't been a long one, only about four feet, the impact of
his landing had emptied the last bit of oxygen from Denton's
lungs.  Bloodied, dazed, and unable to get his breath, Marshal
Denton was a tragic sight as he lay between two spooked carriage
horses who snorted and rolled their eyes in fear and
suspicion.

"Tell you what,"
Longarm said.  "I'll be along after I get Miss Greenwald
settled.  Okay?"

When Denton
groaned, Longarm took that as a yes.  "Okay," he said with a
smile.

Longarm turned and
walked back to the schoolteacher from Grover City, Iowa. 
"Doesn't look like anyone is going to be coming to meet
YOU."

"No," Veronica
said, trying to hide her disappointment.  She pulled a letter
from her purse and unfolded it.  "This letter confirming my job
was written by the principal of the Washoe School, a Mr. Arnold. 
He said to telegraph him when I'd arrive and he'd be sure that he
was on hand to greet me."

"Well," Longarm
said, sensing how badly the young woman felt, "maybe Mr. Arnold
had a sudden emergency and couldn't get here on time.  What's the
address of the Washoe School?"

"It's on South
Virginia Street."

"Heck," Longarm
said with a smile, as he picked up his Winchester and baggage. 
"That'll be easy to find!  Virginia is Reno's main street.  Come
along with me and I'll show you the town as we walk on down to
meet your new employer."

Veronica
brightened.  "You are such a comfort!  But did you really have to
beat the living bee-jeezus out of that big, fat
lawman?"

Longarm shrugged. 
"Well," he said, "I had a feeling that he was about to hit me so
I needed to wallop him first.  A rough fella like that will just
knock you silly if he gets in the first good punch.  So I wasn't
taking any chances because he looked like a brawler.  Truth of
the matter is, I've had enough good whippings to last three
lifetimes."

"You don't strike
me as being the kind of man that anyone could whip,
Custis."

"Well, that's not
exactly true," he confessed as he led Veronica through the crowd
and off toward Virginia Street.  "One thing I learned at least
ten years ago is that there are plenty of bigger and stronger
men.  When I was young, I didn't give a damn how big my opponent
was, I'd wade in and stand toe to toe."

Longarm shook his
head, remembering some of the awful poundings he'd taken when he
was young and foolish enough to think that it was worth taking a
beating in order to administer an even worse one.

"But you know,
Veronica, after a few years and some broken bones and loose
teeth, I learned my lesson.  Now, I hit first and I hit hard. 
And if that doesn't work, I'm not averse to pistol-whipping some
raging fool who needs a lesson in manners."

"I don't know how
you are going to get back in good graces with that
man."

"Maybe I won't,"
Longarm said, "but he won't likely be trying to boss me around
anymore."

On the way down
Virginia Street, Longarm explained how Reno had once been called
Lake's Crossing, and had been a favorite resting place for the
emigrant wagon trains that were about to struggle over the
Sierras into the promise of a verdant California.  The tragic
Donner Party had made the mistake of resting their livestock too
long, and then had suffered the consequences of their delay. 
Later, the builder of the Central Pacific Railroad, Charles
Crocker, had renamed the town in honor of General Jesse Reno, a
Union officer killed in 1862 by Indians.  Since the discovery of
the enormous bonanza on the Comstock, tons of gold and silver had
been shipped down to Reno and sent both east and west on the
railroad.

"This here is the
Truckee River," Longarm said as they crossed the river that
flowed through the town.  "It spills out of Lake Tahoe, which is
as pretty an alpine lake as there is in this country."

"I'd love to visit
it someday-"

"I'll take you the
first chance we get," Longarm promised.  "I swear that the water
is as clear as your skin and as blue as your eyes.  You can see
rocks fifty feet under the surface."

"It sounds
magnificent."

"It is."  Longarm
stopped for a moment on the bridge.  He dropped his bags, leaned
his big Winchester up against the bridge railing, then gently but
firmly turned Veronica around and drew her close.

Her eyebrows
lifted.  "What are you doing?"

"i'm going to kiss
you good-bye," Longarm said thumbing back his Stetson and
grinning impishly.  "You see, once we are at that school and we
meet your new boss, I won't be able to do that without
embarrassing you."

"You've got that
figured right."

"So," Longarm
said, "I'm kissing you now.  Right here on the bridge in the
middle of this town with all these folks watching.  Veronica, I
want this to be a kiss that you will never forget as long as you
live."

"I already know
that I won't forget it," she said, dropping her own bag and
valise, then melting into his arms.

Longarm had kissed
a lot of girls, but Veronica Greenwald was second to none.  Her
lips were soft and yielding, and her lilac-scented perfume made
him giddy.  He felt a great stir of passion in his loins, and it
took all of his strength not to do something that might have
embarrassed them both.

When they finally
broke their kiss, Veronica was breathing as hard as if she'd run
five miles up a mountainside, and Longarm was a little out of
breath himself.

"My, my!" he
said.  "We should do that again!"

"Oh, no you
don't!" Veronica cried, pulling away and grabbing up her bags. 
"If we do that again, I won't be able to think when I meet Mr.
Arnold, much less talk about teaching."

Longarm laughed
outright.  "All right," he said, grabbing up his rifle and bags
as they resumed walking down Virginia Street, "let's get back to
business."

They chatted some
more, but Longarm could sense that Veronica was greatly
distracted.  He would have liked to flatter himself by thinking
it was his kiss, but more likely it was the sights and sounds of
bustling Reno, and also the fact that Mr. Arnold had not thought
enough of her to get to the train station.