Longarm 245: Longarm and the Vanishing Virgin (13 page)

Van Horn sprang to the pot. “Comin' up.”

Dutchy said, “Ma'am, why don't you let me spread a saddle blanket on the ground so's you won't have to sit right on the sand like that?”

“That would be ... very nice,” said Nora. She got to her feet and brushed off her dress as Dutchy hurried to make good on his offer. Van Horn handed her a cup, and she sipped gratefully at the coffee.

“Sorry we don't have no cream or sugar for it,” Van Horn told her.

“It's fine,” she assured him. “A bit ... potent ... but very good.”

Given half a chance, thought Longarm, this gang of hard-bitten desperadoes would be falling all over themselves to make Nora feel more comfortable around them. It was almost humorous watching them trying to impress her. That came from weeks, sometimes even months, of going without seeing any female face, let alone one as pretty as Nora's. Now that she had gotten the tearful silences out of the way, she was evidently starting to realize that she didn't have anything to fear from them, at least not immediately.

She settled back down on the blanket that Dutchy spread for her. As she sat there nursing the cup of coffee, Wallace sat down next to her and said, “Now, ma'am, surely you can see that we don't mean you any harm. So why don't you go ahead and tell us what we want to know.”

“I ... I don't understand,” Nora said slowly. “You seem to think that I'm from a wealthy family.”

“Well, what with the clothes you're wearin‘, and them rings you had on and that fancy watch you were carryin', it seemed to me that you've got plenty of money. Or your man does anyway.”

“I ... I'm not married.”

“Well, then, your pa's rich then. Bound to be.”

She shook her head. “You're wrong. My father works for the railroad.”

That was true enough in its way, thought Longarm, though some people would probably say that the railroad worked for Bryce Canady.

“He's a baggage clerk,” said Nora.

“Then where'd you get the money for that jewelry?” demanded Wallace.

Nora pushed her hair back from her face. “I earned it. I earned it myself.”

“Doin' what?” asked Dutchy.

Nora's lips curved in what she probably thought was a sensuous smile.

Oh, hell, Longarm thought as he leaned forward. Don't say it.
For God's sake, don't say it!

“How does a working girl usually earn her money?” said Nora.

That did it, Longarm knew. That changed everything.

And now, somebody was probably going to die before this night was over.

Wallace's eyes narrowed suspiciously under his bushy brows. “Are you sayin' you're a whore?” he asked bluntly.

Nora caught her breath, perhaps a little surprised at the vehemence of the outlaw leader's reaction. “I ... I ...” She looked around at the other men, clearly at a loss as to what to say or do next. She had to see the same thing that Longarm saw in the eyes of the men. They would fuss over her and pet her as long as they thought her safe return might get them a good payoff. If she was just another soiled dove, pretty and fancy-dressed though she might be, then she was good for only one thing as far as they were concerned.

“What about it, lady?” Van Horn asked quietly.

That was when Longarm said excitedly, “Damn it, I knew I'd seen her before!”

Dutchy asked, “Did she work in a whorehouse you went to, Parker? How was she?”

Longarm shook his head and said with conviction, “She's no soiled dove, boys. Her picture was all over the Denver papers when I came through there a few days ago.”

Nora began to look even more aghast than she had a moment earlier.

“This little lady is Miss Nora Canady,” Longarm said, pressing on. “In case you don't recognize the name, her daddy is Bryce Canady, that railroad tycoon who's got more money than God!”

“Nooo!” Nora wailed as tears welled from her eyes again. “He's lying!”

Longarm shook his head. “No, I'm not,” he insisted. “Look at her. Look how's she acting. She knows I'm telling the truth. Her father's one of the richest men west of the Mississippi!”

Desperate times called for desperate measures, or so the old saying went, Longarm told himself. He just hoped these desperate measures didn't add up to one of the biggest mistakes he'd ever made in his life.

Wallace glowered at Nora and said, “Is it true? Are you Canady's daughter?”

Nora shook her head, the gesture almost violent in its intensity. “Of course not. This man is lying. I ... I'm a whore, just like you said—”

“Look at her,” Longarm cut in scornfully. “I reckon we've all known our share of calico cats, boys. Does this gal look like one of them to you?”

“Parker's got a point,” said Dutchy. “I never seen a soiled dove quite so ... refined-looking.”

“Hell,” said Van Horn, “I've known whores who thought they were ladies, but I never knew a lady who thought she was a whore. Why would a woman claim such a thing if it wasn't true?”

Longarm was wondering the same thing. Clearly, Nora had wanted to conceal her true identity, even if it meant letting these men think she was a prostitute. But just as clearly, she hadn't thought that strategy all the way through; otherwise she would have known the kind of reaction it would likely provoke in them. Her lie must have been an impulse, but at this point, Longarm still didn't know what had prompted it.

Nor was her motive in lying of much importance. What mattered was convincing the outlaws that Nora was still worth more to them unmolested.

“Seems like I read in the paper that she had disappeared from Denver,” Longarm said. “I know I remember something about a reward being offered.”

“A reward?” echoed Wallace. “What sort of reward are you talkin' about?”

“A big one,” Longarm said simply.

Nora stared at him for a second, then dropped her face into her hands and began crying again. Her miserable sobs were the only thing that broke the tense silence around the campfire.

After a moment, Wallace said, “Well, it looks to me like Parker must be right. If this gal is really Bryce Canady's daughter, then we've stumbled onto a pure-dee gold mine, boys. We'll make him pay through the nose to get her back. But she's got to go back untouched, if you get my meanin'.”

“I reckon we all do,” said Van Horn. He sounded disappointed but accepting of Wallace's decree. Nora would not be harmed.

Longarm sat back. He had headed off this immediate problem, but that didn't mean he was out of the woods yet. He still had to figure out a way to get Nora away from the outlaws, because he didn't trust Wallace and the others to protect her, even though they hoped to collect a big ransom for her. Too many things could go wrong, and Nora could wind up dead if she was left in their hands.

“No point in all that cryin‘, ma'am,” Wallace told her. “You're better off now than you were before Parker spilled the beans about you, whether you know it or not.” Wallace glanced at Longarm. “You're sure about all this, Parker?”

Longarm nodded. “I'm sure. I wouldn't lie to you, Wallace.”

“Well, now, I don't reckon I know you well enough to be convinced of that just yet, Parker. But I'll admit, it's star-tin' to look like maybe we can trust you.”

Nora couldn't say the same thing. When she glanced up at Longarm, her eyes still wet with tears, she looked daggers at him. He met her gaze squarely, hoping that she would understand once he got a chance to explain why he'd done what he did.

After a few minutes, several of the men started yawning. Graydon announced that he was going to turn in. Wallace said, “Somebody kick in a couple of spare blankets. We'll make a bedroll for Miss Canady.”

Dutchy and Van Horn provided the blankets, which didn't surprise Longarm. They seemed to be the most taken with Nora. She accepted the bedding with no thank-you this time; apparently, her idea of playing up to her captors had been abandoned.

As Longarm spread his own bedroll, the man called Phil rode in to the camp for supper. Van Horn saddled his horse and rode out to take Phil's place.

“Who's that?” Phil asked as he scooped the last of the beans out of the pot. He was looking at Longarm.

“Fella's name is Parker,” Wallace said. “Wants to join up with us. He claims he's the one who helped us out when that posse was about to jump us this afternoon. And since he rode down through Denver recent-like, he was able to tell us who that gal is.”

Phil was a tall, slender man with curly dark hair under a pushed-back Stetson. “Is that so?”

“Yep. She's the daughter of that railroad baron, Bryce Canady.”

Phil let out a low whistle. “Sounds like you're earnin' your keep already, Parker. Pleased to meet you.”

“Likewise,” Longarm said with a curt nod. “Now, if you fellas don't mind, I'm going to get some sleep.”

He stretched out, rolled in his blankets, and closed his eyes. But he didn't fall asleep. In fact, he had never felt less like sleeping in his entire life, he thought. He listened intently to the low-voiced conversation between Wallace and Phil.

“Any sign of those Rangers, or sheriff's deputies, or whatever they were?” asked Wallace.

“Nope. The night's mighty quiet, Heck. Anyway, those lawmen couldn't find this camp if they wandered around the sand hills for a year.”

“Unless they got lucky.” Wallace grunted. “Could happen.”

“Not likely. I don't reckon there's a white man alive who knows these dunes like you do.” Phil paused, then asked, “What're we goin' to do with the girl?”

“I figure we've got to get hold of her pa some way and let him know we've got her. Van Horn can write a little. Maybe he can write a letter to the old man, and one of us can take it into Monahans to mail it.”

“If Parker's just come down from the north, likely nobody in Monahans would recognize him,” suggested Phil.

“That's a thought,” agreed Wallace. “Well, we'll see. All I know right now is that little gal's goin' to make us all rich men.”

Not if he had anything to say about it, thought Longarm.

 

It wasn't long before everyone had turned in for the night. The fire burned down to embers, and without its glow, the landscape once again took on a silvery hue from the moonlight and starlight. Longarm opened his eyes to mere slits and concentrated on watching Nora. She was restless, tossing and turning in the borrowed soogans. The outlaws all seemed to be sleeping soundly. Loud snores issued from several of them. Longarm waited, though, biding his time in case any of them were shamming, like he was. The moon gradually slid down through the heavens and dropped behind the dunes, making the darkness grow much deeper. Soundlessly, Longarm slid his blankets aside.

He had taken his boots off before he turned in, so he didn't have to worry about his spurs clanking as he crawled noiselessly across the sand toward Nora. She had turned over in her sleep so that her face was toward him, and he was grateful for that. He intended to clamp a hand over her mouth as soon as he reached her so that she couldn't make any startled outcry when he woke her.

Longarm paused every few feet to make sure none of the men were stirring. Finally, after what seemed like an hour, he reached Nora's blanket-wrapped shape. He slid close to her, then dropped his weight on her, pinning her down so that she couldn't thrash around. At the same time, he covered her mouth with his big left hand.

He saw starlight glitter on her eyes as they opened wide in shock. Moving his head so that his lips were against her ear, he breathed, “Don't move, and don't yell. I'm not an outlaw. I'm U.S. Deputy Marshal Custis Long.” He doubted if the words could be heard more than a foot away.

He didn't know if what he was saying penetrated Nora's brain. Her body had heaved once in fright, but she hadn't been able to move much because of his weight pressing down on her. After that, she lay still, panting slightly. He could feel each exhalation of breath against his palm.

After a few long seconds ticked by, she gave a tiny nod, barely jerking her head up and down. Longarm took that to mean she understood what he had told her. He whispered,

“Don't yell now. Don't even talk. Just listen to me. I'm here to get you out of this mess and take you home.”

Another nod.

“We can't get away tonight. We'll have to wait another day or two, until they trust me more. Can you do that?”

A nod, immediate and emphatic.

“All right. Just be brave. They won't hurt you, and if they try to, I'll stop them. Just do what I tell you and be ready to move fast when the time comes, and before you know it you'll be back with your father and Senator Palmer.”

He felt something wet trickle onto the back of his hand. She was crying again, and one of her tears had fallen on him. Tears of gratitude this time, Longarm thought.

He took his hand away from her mouth and squeezed her shoulder briefly through the blankets to reassure her, then slid off her and began crawling back to the spot where he had been pretending to sleep. He glanced around at the other forms stretched out on the sand. None of them were moving, and the snores had continued unabated while he was whispering to Nora. He reached his bedroll and slipped back into it, confident that none of the outlaws were aware of his nocturnal ramblings. The marks that his hands and knees had left in the sand would be gone by morning, swept away by the ceaseless wind.

Longarm let himself doze a little then, sleeping lightly so that he could be instantly awake if need be. It was a skill he had developed over years of being a manhunter and finding himself in places where he couldn't afford to sleep deeply, yet still needed some rest.