Longarm and the Missing Husband (2 page)

Chapter 3

The café was two blocks down and a block over. It was frequented by politicians and lawyers and other such low types. But it was the sort of place where you could buy a cup of coffee and sit at one of the tables for hours without ever being bothered or made to feel that you were not welcome.

Longarm frequently had breakfast there when he was in town and had the time, but he had never brought a woman there before. The owner, a German named Klaus, gave Longarm a questioning look when he came in with a lady on his arm.

They sat at a table in the far back corner of the place. Longarm held a chair for the woman and suggested, “There's a loo in the back. I'd imagine they would have a basin an' pitcher of water if you want t' wash some o' them tears away. Meantime I'll get us the coffee. Or would you rather have tea?”

“Coffee will be fine,” she said, “and you're right, I would like to dash a little water on my face. Excuse me. I won't be long.”

Longarm got up and pulled the chair out for her to rise again. When she was gone, he went to the counter. “Two coffees, please, Klaus, an' some o' them sweet crullers, too, I think.”

When the lady returned, Longarm again seated her, then said, “I think maybe we should work on some introductions first thing. My name is Long. Custis Long. But my friends an' some o' my enemies, too, call me Longarm. I'm a deputy United States marshal.”

The lady's eyes went wide and she sat up straighter. “A deputy. Then perhaps a very kind providence has brought me to you, Marshal Long. I am Bethlehem Bacon.”

It was a good name, he thought, for she certainly looked edible to him now that the tear tracks had been wiped away.

She seemed to be waiting for something although he was not sure what. He wasted a few moments by sipping from his coffee and reaching for a cruller. It was sticky with sugar and still warm from the oven. Or oil or however it was that they made the things. That was something that was up to Klaus's wife, Berta, who presided over the kitchen in back.

“What?” Bethlehem said after a few moments. “No jokes about my name?”

“No, ma'am,” Longarm said, careful of his expression. He, of course, had thought about it but was not rude enough to comment at the lady's expense. He took a bite of the cruller. It melted in his mouth.

“Please call me Beth,” she said.

He smiled and said, “Try one o' these crullers. They're splendid.”

She ignored the pastries but did take a drink of coffee after loading it with cream and sugar. Longarm waited for her to feel like talking.

“My husband,” she said. “I think he may have been killed by wild Indians. I went to the Bureau of Indian Affairs Office. That is where I was coming from when you saw me. They said . . .” She looked like she was going to cry again. “They said there is nothing they can do.”

“You didn't talk t' the marshal?” he asked.

“No. Why would I? It was on the Indian reservation where Hank disappeared. My husband was . . . he was surveying for a railroad extension through the Indian lands. Then he just . . . disappeared. One man I talked to suggested that he might have left me. Oh, he didn't come right out and say that. But he intimated it strongly enough that I certainly understood what he meant.”

Beth Bacon toyed with her spoon. Turned her cup around and around. Longarm finished his cruller and reached for another. He had not taken time for breakfast this morning and the pastries were going down pretty nicely, never mind the lady's troubles.

“You're gonna have t' tell me more,” Longarm said, drinking a little coffee to wash the crullers down. “Then maybe you an' me can go back over to the Fed'ral Building an' talk to my boss, see if he'll let me go have a look-see. But I got t' know everything you do about this. Then . . . no promises, but then we'll just see what we can see.”

He gave Beth a reassuring smile and helped himself to the last cruller as she did not seem to be interested in it.

Chapter 4

“The man is a surveyor, boss,” Longarm said, standing in front of moonfaced and balding U.S. Marshal William Vail. Vail looked like a typical bureaucrat in his boiled shirt and sleeve garters, but in fact, he was as salty as any of his deputies. In his youth, which was not that long ago, he had been a Texas Ranger and a rough old boy. Now he sent other men out to do the things he himself had done in the past.

“He's tryin' to work out the route for a railroad extension. Others will come along after him t' do the final surveys an' lay out the tracks. But now Hank Bacon is missin'. No one seems t' know where he is nor what happened to him. An' the way I figure, it bein' on reservation land makes it our affair.

“Miz Bacon has already gone to the BIA an' they don't want nothing t' do with her nor with him. 'Bout all they want is for her t' go away an' pretend nothing's wrong.”

Vail leaned back in his chair and peered across his desk at the pretty lady. Who might or might not be a widow at this point. He pondered the question for a long moment, then he leaned forward with a loud creak of the springs under his chair and said, “I agree. It is within our jurisdiction.”

“Does that mean I c'n go, Billy?” Longarm asked.

Vail nodded and with a grunt said, “You can go.”

Beth Bacon squealed with happiness. She dashed around Vail's desk and planted a wet kiss on his red cheek.

Damn, Longarm thought, wishing he was the one to get that hug and kiss of happiness.

Still, it was probably for the best that she chose Billy instead. Longarm just would have embarrassed himself with a hard-on, he acknowledged. There was just something about Mrs. Bacon that made him want to get her drawers off.

But then there was something about most women that made him respond that way. Lucky for him, women often found him attractive, too, something he could not really understand as he was more craggy and rugged than he was handsome.

He never could have been a model for one of those catalog drawings that advertised shirts or cigarettes or whatnot. Hammers, maybe, or stock saddles. But definitely nothing that required a pretty boy. Custis Long was not that and never had been, not on his best day.

He reached forward and touched Beth on the elbow to bring her attention back to him. He shot his chin in the direction of the door, and she took the hint.

“I can't thank you enough, Marshal. Thank you ever so much,” she gushed.

She followed Longarm out then said, “How will we travel?”

“Travel where?” he asked, both of them standing in front of Henry's desk, Henry being Billy Vail's chief clerk.

“Why, to Wyoming Territory, of course,” she said.

“Little missy,” Longarm said, “
we
ain't going to Wyoming. I are. Uh, I am, that is. You are stayin' right here 'til I get back.”

“Oh, but I can't stay here. For one thing, I don't have money to pay for a hotel. It took everything I had to get to Denver in the first place. So I couldn't stay here even if I wanted to.”

“Sure you can,” he said. “I'll park you in my room. It ain't so much, but my landlady will be happy t' have another female on the premises for a change. We'll talk to her. See if we can work out something toward you eating at her table, too, though it ain't usually board, just room.” He smiled. “Don't you worry. We'll work it out. Now you can set over there for a few minutes an' wait while Henry here comes up with my travel vouchers.”

Beth did not look especially happy about the arrangement, but she dutifully went over to the side of the room and perched on one of the chairs against the wall there while Longarm conducted his business with Henry.

Chapter 5

Beth went with him to his rooming house, where she was welcomed with open arms. Welcomed to stay in his room while he was away, too. Longarm left her there and picked up his carpetbag, already packed and ready as it was at all times.

“I've arranged for you to take your meals here, too,” Longarm told her. “With any kind o' luck, I won't be gone all that long anyway. I'll see what I can learn about your husband an' hopefully find him safe an' sound. Meantime, you'll be fine here.”

“Thank you, Marshal.” She smiled and squeezed his hand. Even that small, innocent contact made his dick hard. There was something powerfully attractive about Bethlehem Bacon, something he could not put a name to but could certainly feel.

Longarm thought about taking his saddle and rifle along but settled for just the bag. The rest of his gear remained in his room with Beth.

When he left for the train station, he had an impulse to lean down and kiss her but he refrained from doing it. Even so, he was a good five blocks away in a hansom cab before his hard-on completely subsided and he could put his mind to business.

“Which station will you be wanting, sir?” the hack driver called down to him.

“Wynkoop,” Longarm responded. The depot at Wazee and Wynkoop was the oldest in town and the closest to the rooming house. Longarm smiled a little to himself. The driver was undoubtedly hoping he would want the station where the Denver to Cheyenne line intersected with the Kansas Pacific line. That newer depot was farther north and would have resulted in a larger fare. Longarm was traveling on the taxpayers' dollars, but that did not mean he could be wasteful.

He settled back in the seat of the hack and wondered just how in the hell he was supposed to find Hank Bacon when he got to the White River Indian Reservation.

He tugged his hat low over his eyes and attempted to doze on the drive to the railway station. After all, he had gotten practically no sleep the night before.

Not that he regretted the evening. It had not been time wasted. Far from it.

What
was
it about Beth Bacon, though, that made her so damned desirable?

He had had Angela for hours on end last night, had her in nearly every way a man could think of, yet now it was Beth on whom his thoughts lay. It was a puzzlement.

Chapter 6

Longarm spent the trip up to Cheyenne in the smoking car playing cards with some friendly travelers, one a priest whose luck—if it was luck—was phenomenal. The man won and won and won some more. If he had stayed in the game much longer, Longarm figured he would have gone broke before they reached Fort Collins. Fortunately the priest took his winnings, and his Bible, and left the game after an hour or so. After that Longarm was able to get back at least a little of what he had lost to the man with the turned-around collar.

They reached Cheyenne in the middle of the night. A conductor came through warning everyone, and waking them, ten minutes or so out.

“If you leave anything behind, make sure it's something valuable. I'll give it to my old lady for an anniversary present,” the man said. Longarm was not sure if he meant that or not. Not that Longarm had so very much baggage to keep track of. There was just his carpetbag and he had that with him in the smoking car.

When the train lurched to a clattering, clanking halt at the Cheyenne station, Longarm got up from the table where he had been playing and thanked the other gents for the pleasure of the game.

“Next time let us win a little, Long,” a drummer dealing in yard goods said.

Longarm grinned. “Next time bring more money with you, Horace.”

Longarm retrieved his carpetbag from the overhead rack where he had left it and followed the crowd out of the car onto the platform at Cheyenne. The night air felt chilly after the smoky confinement of the railroad coach. He turned his collar up and headed for the Union Pacific depot nearby.

When he got there . . .

“What the hell are you doing here, dammit? I thought I left you safe an' sound back in Denver,” he bawled.

Bethlehem Bacon smiled at him as if he had just paid her a friendly compliment. “It is nice to see you, too, Marshal.”

“But . . .”

“I know. You were trying to protect me. But I couldn't abide staying there, always waiting, never knowing what was happening up here. So”—she spread her hands and smiled so very sweetly again—“so here I am.”

“How? I mean . . . I thought you said you were broke. How'd you get a ticket?”

“That was simple enough,” the lady said. “I told them I was traveling with you. They charged my fare to the government or somebody. Anyway here I am.”

“Yes, here you are,” Longarm said. “The question now is, what the hell am I gonna do with you here in Cheyenne? I don't have anyplace up here where I can dump you while I try an' find your husband.”

“Exactly,” Beth said. “So I shall go with you.” She smiled just about the sweetest, prettiest smile he had ever seen. “Now,” she said as if that silliness were all settled, “let's go find out when the next westbound train will be coming through.”

Chapter 7

“We should get off at Rawlins,” Beth told him after they were established in one of the passenger coaches—
not
a smoking car—and on their way. Longarm simply had not known what else to do with the sneaky female and so brought her along with him. “But only until I can figure out where t' put you for a spell,” he had agreed.

“An' why Rawlins 'stead of Rock Springs? That'd be closer to where you said he disappeared,” he told Beth now after her pronouncement.

“Because Rawlins is where Hank's employers have an office. You'll want to speak with them before you go looking for him,” she said, sounding very sure of herself.

“Why didn't you tell me that before?” he said.

“You didn't ask. Oh, here comes the butcher boy. Buy me a doughnut, will you?”

Longarm was well aware that Beth had just changed the subject. But he really did not know what to do with her. He bought her the doughnut. And one for himself although he would rather have had a cigar and a shot of rye.

The Union Pacific westbound reached Rawlins late in the morning. With a sigh, Longarm and Beth Bacon left the train there.

“You don't have any luggage with you?” he asked, retrieving his much-traveled carpetbag from the overhead rack.

“Just this handbag,” she said. For a handbag it was large but it was no suitcase. He wondered just how much she could be carrying in there.

Longarm helped Beth down onto the platform and led the way to the Elkhorn Hotel. He had stayed there before and knew it was not fancy, but it was clean and accommodating, with a café next door where you could get exceptional rhubarb pie.

“Hello, Marshal. Two rooms for you?” the clerk said and with a rather oily smile added, “Adjoining?”

Longarm looked down at Beth, who was acting innocent as a child. She had no money to pay for a room. He knew that. He also knew that Henry would not approve payment for two rooms for one deputy. “One room,” he said.

The clerk's eyebrows rose but the man said nothing, just turned the register book around for Longarm to sign.

Beth said nothing either. If anything, she acted like it was the most normal thing in the world for her to share a room with a man who was not her husband.

Longarm accepted the room key and led the way upstairs to room number four. Beth meekly followed him inside and perched on the side of the bed while Longarm deposited his carpetbag inside the mahogany wardrobe.

“We can have a cot brought in,” Beth said firmly. “I will sleep there.”

“Got this all figured out, do you?”

“All? No. But enough for the time being.”

“What about meals? D'you expect the government t' pay for those for you?”

“The government does not have to know.” She giggled. “You will just run into very expensive dining. Anyway, most of the time we will be beyond restaurants and such civilization. You will buy trail foods at government expense. I support the government by way of taxes. It seems only fair that the government support me for a few days in return.”

“Like I said before, you got this all figured out.” He sighed. Longarm felt like he was finding himself sighing quite a bit of late. He poured a little water into the basin and washed his hands and face then said, “All right, are you ready t' go see your husband's bosses?”

“Can we eat first?” Beth asked. “I'm hungry.”

Longarm sighed again.

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