Longarm and the Bandit Queen Page 5

  "She's got a soft spot--and it's right between her legs--for any man with a hard to poke in it," Gower said.

  "You think Jesse James ever poked into it?"

  "He probably did, if she got him off alone with her," Gower replied. Then he added, "When you come right down to it, Long, the only time we're sure Belle ever saw Jesse was when Cole Younger took him to Texas on that visit he made to his family. And since it was that time when Cole and Belle first met, I doubt that Jesse had a look-in. There's a rumor that Jesse hid out for a while at Belle's place over in the Nation when she first moved there, but that's the kind of rumor you come to look for when you're dealing with the James boys. Shit! It wouldn't surprise me if somebody started a rumor that Jesse's disguised himself and got a job as one of my deputies!"

  "I guess folks are willing to believe almost anything about the Jameses," Longarm commented.

  "Looks that way," Gower agreed. "To get back to what I was telling you, Jim Reed got killed in a shootout down in Texas, and Blue Duck married Belle the other way around--and a little while after that, Blue Duck got bushwhacked and killed. Then Belle took up with a bad one by the name of Jack Spaniard, but he made some mistakes that put him on the wrong end of a hangman's rope. Her last one before Sam Starr was a burglar, Jim French, but he got shot while he was trying to break into a store. That brings us up to when Belle married Sam Starr."

  Longarm's whistle when Gower paused was low and long-drawn. "I'd say the lady really has bad luck with the men she picks out. If she was to wag her butt my way, I'd pass her by."

  "If you had any sense, you'd do that after you took one look at her," Gower told him. "Now, Sam Starr's part Cherokee, as I mentioned. He's got a land allotment from the tribe down at the south end of the Cherokee Strip, on the Canadian, close to a little town called Eufaula. That's where he and Belle make their headquarters now. They call it Younger's Bend."

  "Named for Cole Younger, I take it?"

  "Oh, I'm sure Belle picked out the name. I told you, she's still got a soft spot for Cole. They've built a house there, and a few cabins. Our trouble is, the lay of the land makes it just about impossible for us to watch the place. The river's on one side, with high bluffs running down to the water, the house on top of the bluffs, and a little narrow valley the only way to get to the place. Maybe you'll be better than my boys at figuring out a way to scout the place when you get there." Longarm said mildly, "I didn't know I was going there."

  "You do now," Gower retorted.

  "It's all the same to me, where I go," Longarm said levelly. "Or who I bring in. What's this Belle Starr wanted for?"

  Gower snorted, "Hell! I don't want Belle. She's a nobody, and so is Sam. They're out now on bail on a cattle-rustling charge. If I wanted them, I'd just have them picked up. That's the biggest charge I could hold them on, though. No, Long, it's that bunch of crooks who use the Starr place as a hideout that I'm after. Half the men on my wanted list right now work out of Younger's Bend. About all Belle does is give them a safe place to hide out and help them get rid of what they steal."

  "She's a fence, then, instead of a bandit queen?"

  "Of course. If I wanted Belle, I could have her picked up any time she rides into Fort Smith on that big black horse she fancies. Oh, Belle puts on a real show! Dolls herself up in a long velvet dress, wears a pair of ivory-handled, silver-plated Smith & Wessons. But it's all blow and no go with Belle, except when it comes to getting rid of the loot her boarders bring in."

  "It'd help if I knew what kind of loot she deals in," Longarm suggested.

  "Cattle, mostly," Gower replied. "Some jewelry and trinkets from burglaries and stagecoach stickups. Except for the cattle, Belle doesn't handle much but penny-ante stuff. The owlhoots that use Younger's Bend as a hideout--well, that's another matter. They're waist-deep in damn near everything. Bank robberies, train holdups, stagecoach stickups, rustling, you name it. Belle's only dangerous because she provides them with a place to hole up between jobs, and helps them get rid of what they've stolen."

  "If the place is as bad as you say, it looks to me like your best bet would be just to go in with a good force and clean it out," Longarm suggested. "After all, it's in your jurisdiction."

  "I didn't ask you for advice, Long. Apparently you don't know much about our jurisdictional problem in this district. You ought to, damn it. Billy told me you'd had some assignments in the Nation."

  "Two or three. Sure, I know the Indian police force has got the primary jurisdiction, and they don't like outside lawmen coming in, even when they're federals, like we are. I've run into that in the cases I've handled there. I know that about the only time we can go into the Indian Nation without being invited is when we're on a chase after some owlhoot who's just committed a crime covered in federal statutes."

  "That's the shifty part of it!" Gower growled. "So far, we haven't had a chance to go after any of the Younger's Bend bunch in a hot-pursuit situation. But there's more to the Younger's Bend mess than that. Sam Starr or Belle--and I guess it was Belle's idea, because she's got most of the brains--worked out some kind of deal with the Cherokee Tribal Council. Belle calls it a treaty, which would put Younger's Bend on a level with the U.S. as an independent nation. The treaty says that the Younger's Bend bunch won't pull off anything in the Cherokee Strip if the Indian Police will leave them alone. Hell, Long, I'll never get an invitation from the police over there to come in, as long as that agreement stands!"

  For the first time, Longarm felt a flicker of sympathy for Gower. He said thoughtfully, "I see the kind of bind you're in, but I sure hope you're not looking to me to work it out for you."

  "If I can't work it out as chief marshal, I don't see how you could as a deputy on temporary assignment here," Gower replied impatiently. "That's not why I asked Billy to send me his top man, Long. I've talked to you enough now so I feel safe in telling you the real reason you're here."

  "Thanks. I'd sort of like to hear it."

  Gower went to the door of his office, opened it, and looked both ways along the corridor. He came back and sat down. Leaning over his desk, he dropped his voice and said, "That bunch at Younger's Bend is in so many things and gets away with so much that I've got a suspicion a bunch of local marshals and sheriffs are in cahoots with them."

  "You mean they're being paid off?"

  "That's exactly what I mean. Belle's like any other fence, Long. She's got to have room to work in. The only way a fence can buy that kind of room is by paying off somebody to look the other way when she's making her deals. And once a man on our side of the law begins taking payoffs, it's not long before he's taking money to be out of town when a gang rides in to rob a bank. It starts with the fence, but it's not long in spreading."

  "I ain't aiming to embarrass you, Marshal Gower," Longarm said carefully. "But I'd be interested in knowing how far it's spread."

  Gower stared at Longarm, his face set grimly. He dropped his voice as he answered. "Yes, you're right, Long. You do need to know how far it's gone. Well, I've got a suspicion, without a damned shred of evidence to back it up, that some of my own deputies have sold out to Belle Starr and her gang."

  Longarm studied Gower's face for a moment, trying to find some expression in the chief marshal's pale eyes. There was none, but Gower's face had undergone a subtle change. His long chin was no longer out-thrust pugnaciously, and his bushy brows were not pulled together in a scowl now.

  Before Longarm could say anything, Gower went on, "That's what I want you to find out, Long. If my suspicions are right, I've got to clean up my own office here before I can do anything about that running sore over in the Nation. And I had to find out whether you could keep yourself in hand when the going gets rough before I was sure you were the man to help me do the job."

  "But you've made up your mind now?" Longarm asked.

  "Yes. I'm sorry for the bad time I gave you when we first began talking. But you'll understand, I had to know what kind of man you are before I could open up and tell
you the whole story."

  For several minutes Longarm said nothing. He was digesting the fact that the rough reception he'd gotten had been Gower's way of testing him out, making sure he'd be able to put a curb on his tongue and a rein on his temper when he was taking a rawhiding.

  Finally he said, "No offense taken, Marshal Gower. I guess it was about the only way you had to check me out."

  "It was the only way I could see. Now the air's cleared between us. How do you feel about it?"

  "Better than I did for a while there. I'm just trying to figure out where my starting place is. You don't know if all your men are straight, or who the sell-outs might be, if there are any. So what I've got on my plate is to find out who the rotten apples are."

  "I wish I didn't have to agree with you, Long, but I do. I've watched my men for the past four or five months, since things first started going sour. Prisoners escaping, evidence not brought in, witnesses dropping out of sight. It smells, but I can't get down to the source of the stink. You know how easy it is for an honest mistake of a deputy to cause a case to go sour."

  Longarm answered. "I guess I ought to. I've made some mistakes like that, now and again."

  "Well, that's not what Billy tells me, but we won't go into that. The point is that I can't accuse one of my own deputies of being paid off by Belle unless I've got absolute, ironclad proof. I'm in pretty much the same spot when it comes to accusing a town marshal or a sheriff or sheriff's deputy. If I'm not sure, I can't do anything but keep quiet, no matter what I might suspect."

  "Sure. I can see that. It's about the only fair way a man in your position could act. From what Billy's told me, you've got some pretty good men on your force here."

  "Of course I have. And it looks like I've got a few bad ones, too," Gower said. He hesitated before adding, "Look here, Long, I know this is a hell of a job for me to ask you to take on. You'll see why I can't turn any of my boys loose on it, though. I've been tempted to, but there's always the chance that I might pick out the wrong one and blow the whole deal to hell."

  "That's as good a reason as I can see for holding off," Longarm concurred.

  "Billy Vail's the only one I've talked to about it. I used that rumor about Jesse James trying to buy Cole Younger's way out of the pen to give me a reason for meeting Billy in Stillwater, where we could talk without worrying about somebody overhearing," Gower said. "I was surprised, though. Billy took my Jesse James story seriously."

  "I can tell you why that was," Longarm said. "Billy found out that Jesse and Frank James and three of their men hid out right under his nose, not fifty miles from Denver, over around Leadville, a while back. He never has got over missing that chance to take them."

  "Funny," Gower frowned. "I never heard about that."

  "Billy damn sure wouldn't mention it," Longarm said. "There wasn't any way he could've known the Jameses were in his territory, of course. They didn't pull any jobs, and nobody'd ever have known who they were if some old friend of theirs from Missouri hadn't spotted them. But he kept quiet until they'd been gone three or four months."

  "I'll sure have to josh Billy about that, the next time I see him," Gower said. He smiled for the first time. "I can see how it'd rankle on him, of course, knowing he had Jesse in reach and missing him."

  "Hell, it rankles on me a little bit, too," Longarm told Gower. "But I guess anybody on the right side of the law would relish a chance to meet up with James and his gang."

  "Well, I don't expect you to find Jesse James at Younger's Bend, Long. Still, if the old story's true and Jesse actually did use Belle's place as a hideout once, there's the outside chance that he might come back there."

  "I won't count on it. Fact of the matter is, I don't see that I can count on much of anything. The only thing I'm hoping is that I don't run into some owlhoot I've brought in someplace else, somebody who might recognize me."

  "I've thought about that, too. That's one of the things that can get your neck into a noose on any orders or instructions, Long. From what Billy's told me, you've got your own way of handling your cases, and I wouldn't want to cramp your style. I don't expect you to report to me until the case is closed, but you know that if you get into a bind, I'll do whatever I can to get you out of it."

  Longarm lighted another cheroot before replying. Puffing out a cloud of smoke, he said thoughtfully, "I guess the only way to start eating an apple is to take the first bite, and that's to see how the land lays at Younger's Bend. You say it's right on the Canadian River?"

  Gower nodded. "Just to the southeast of a little town called Eufaula. It's a long day's ride from here, but if you get an early start-"

  "Now, I sure don't aim to set out today. I had a bellyful of horseback travel getting here from Fort Gibson, and all the sleep I got last night was in a bathtub at that little place by the ferryboat landing across the river."

  Gower pulled open a drawer of his desk and took out a drawstring pouch made of buckskin. He tossed it across the desk. The pouch landed in front of Longarm with a metallic clunk.

  "I told Billy I'd be responsible for your expenses while you're on this case. Too damn much red tape, routing requisitions through the Denver office, and you can't be running in here every week or so to fill out vouchers. There's five hundred in gold in that bag." Longarm's eyebrows rose as Gower continued, "Bring back what you don't use and write one voucher on what you've spent when the case is closed. I won't argue about how big the voucher is."

  "Thanks." Longarm nodded. "I'll make sure you get good value."

  "I know you will," Gower replied. "Now, anything else you need?"

  "Oh, I picked up an ordnance map before I took off from Fort Gibson. It's old, but it shows the hills and streams, and that's all I need to get me by." Longarm stood up. "I'll be moving, then, Marshal Gower. You'll hear from me when you hear from me, I guess, but don't look for it to be anytime soon."

  "Whenever you get a chance to send word," Gower said. "And good luck, Long." Somewhat grimly, he added, "I'm pretty sure you'll need it."

  On the boardwalk outside the federal building, Longarm stood for a moment, taking stock. All he really needed was sleep. He mounted and started to look for a hotel. As he headed down Front Street, an idea struck him. His business in Fort Smith was finished, and if he wanted to get an early start for Younger's Bend tomorrow, he'd have to take the last ferry across the Arkansas before midnight, or delay his start until the first boat made the crossing, and that wouldn't be until six the next morning.

  There ain't any reason for me to waste the best part of a day, he told himself. That little town over across the river in the Nation's got all I need and the saloon there Pours as good a Maryland rye as any I'm likely to find here in Arkansas.

  Instead of continuing toward the buildings of Fort Smith, he reined the horse around in the middle of the deserted street and headed back in the direction of the ferry landing.

  That river's got to be crossed sooner or later, old son, he thought as his army mount clattered over the brick-paved street, And it won't be one inch narrower tomorrow morning than it is right now.

  CHAPTER 5

  Longarm's mental alarm clock jerked him into wakefulness. It was still pitch dark, and the room in the small hotel he'd found in Little Juarez was totally silent. There was no sound beyond the door leading to the hallway, no rumbling of wagon wheels or clumping of hooves was audible through the half-open window.

  Reaching for his vest, draped over the back of a chair pulled close to the bed, Longarm fingered his watch from its pocket and snapped open the case before lighting one of the matches he'd laid beside the base of the lamp that stood in the seat of the chair. The watch confirmed the message his mind had sent him. it was four o'clock--time to be up and on the trail. By the time he'd dressed, had a quick breakfast, and picked up the horse he'd rented at the livery stable around the corner from the hotel, dawn would be slitting the eastern sky.

  He lifted the lamp chimney and touched the match to the wick before
the flame got to his fingertips. Light bathed the room. He sat on the edge of the bed, stretching, then reached for the bottle of Maryland rye he'd bought at the saloon before turning in the night before. A full day of sleep the preceding day, and a long, restful night on top of that, had erased the dragged-out feeling he'd had after his talk with Andrew Gower, and the healthy swig Of rye he swallowed swept the last vestiges of cobwebs from his brain.

  Longarm's gray flannel shirt hung on the right-hand headpost of the bed, his covert-cloth trousers under it. His holstered Colt dangled on the bedpost opposite, where it would be handy if he was forced to reach for it while in bed.

  He fastened the top buttons of his balbriggans, slid his arms into his shirt and buttoned it, shoe-horned himself into his skin-tight trousers, then stomped into his stovepipe cavalry boots before standing up.

  Before going out to supper last night, Longarm had cleaned his guns--Winchester, Colt, and derringer--and reloaded them with fresh ammunition, but he took a bit of extra time in getting the set of his cross-draw gunbelt completely right. In Longarm's book, a gun was useless baggage if a man had to fumble for it when he needed it in a hurry. Satisfied after a few practice draws, he donned his vest and coat, picked up his Winchester and saddlebags, and went out into the dark morning.

  The saloon, restaurant, barber shop, and general store were lighted and taking care of trade. Longarm ignored the saloon. He had the partly finished bottle of rye in his saddlebag, as well as an unopened bottle he'd bought to take along.

  A half-dozen vehicles were lined up along the street in front of the cafe: wagons, a buggy, a buckboard, and a surrey. He could see the tarpaulin-covered forms of sleepers in two of the wagon beds, and on one of the surrey's seats, a blanket-wrapped figure wriggled restlessly as Longarm's booted heels thudded on the board sidewalk on his way to the restaurant.

  With breakfast behind him, Longarm headed for the livery stable. The attendant recognized him from the day before, and hurried out to the still-dark corral to get the hammerhead bay that Longarm had picked out the day before. The cavalry mount, with its giveaway brand, would be waiting when he got back from Younger's Bend. Having put his saddlebags, bedroll, and rifle in their places, Longarm set his hat a bit more firmly on his head and started west along the riverbank. The first line of dawn brightened the sky just enough to show the well-beaten trail as he set out.