Longarm and the Deadly Restitution (9781101618776) Read online

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  Longarm’s left fist shot out like the head of a snake and his knuckles smashed into the man’s nose, breaking it and sending him reeling backward. When the other two jumped forward, Longarm’s right hand crossed his belt buckle and snapped his Colt from its holster on his left hip. The gun came up and the two men dropped their knives in the dirt and fled.

  The man Longarm had smashed in the nose was cupping it with both hands, blood dripping between his fingers.

  “Damn you!” the injured man cried. “We only wanted a couple of lousy dollars!”

  “Tell you what,” Longarm said, “I’ll give you something that will last longer than a few dollars.”

  “What . . .”

  Longarm smashed the barrel of his heavy Colt across the man’s forehead, knocking him out cold.

  “Custis!” Milly said, hurrying to catch up with him. “That man will need stitches in his scalp and his nose is really a mess!”

  “You think I was too rough on him, do you? Milly, I told you you wouldn’t be prepared for what faced us up here. We haven’t even come face to face with the worst of it yet and already you’re starting to tell me what to do and what not to do.”

  “I don’t mean to do that, Custis, but you really hurt that man!”

  “And what do you think they intended to do with those knives they pulled? Clip our fingernails?”

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  THE GUNSMITH by J. R. Roberts

  Clint Adams was a legend among lawmen, outlaws, and ladies. They called him . . . the Gunsmith.

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  The popular long-running series about Deputy U.S. Marshal Custis Long—his life, his loves, his fight for justice.

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  THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP

  Published by the Penguin Group

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  Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  LONGARM AND THE DEADLY RESTITUTION

  A Jove Book / published by arrangement with the author

  PUBLISHING HISTORY

  Jove edition / January 2013

  Copyright © 2012 by Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  Cover illustration by Milo Sinovcic.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed orelectronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy ofcopyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  For information, address: The Berkley Publishing Group, a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.,

  375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.

  ISBN: 978-1-101-61877-6

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  Jove Books are published by The Berkley Publishing Group, a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.,

  375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.

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  Contents

  WESTERN SERIES FROM THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 1

  Deputy United States Marshal Custis Long wasn’t looking forward to meeting the newly hired deputy that wintery Denver morning as he headed for the Federal Building on Colfax Avenue. Not that he was unfriendly or hostile to the new men that his boss hired but, dammit, why did it always fall to him to have to take the department’s recruits under his wing and teach them the dangerous business of being a professional lawman? Half of the new hires didn’t last a month when they discovered that the low wages of a deputy didn’t begin to compensate for the dangers and twenty-four-hour-a-day demands of the job.

  “Good morning, Marshal,” a city officer said, tipping his hat. “Think that this winter will ever give up and go away?”

  Longarm was about to reply when he slipped on a patch of icy sidewalk and did a very ungainly flop.

  “Uggh!” he grunted, hauling himself erect. “You know, I don’t mind the cold too much, and even the snow is fine . . . but this damnable ice is what I especially hate.”

  “I know,” the Denver policeman said with a sympathetic shake of his head. “I’ve been out here since six o’clock this morning, and I’ve already seen four others besides you step on that patch of ice and do a hard fall.”

  “How about asking the city to put some cinders or salt down on the sidewalks so people don’t break their necks trying to get to their work?”

  “City is almost broke as usual. Hell, not a week goes by that I’m not worried about whether or not they will pay me.” The man whose name Longarm now recalled being Tom Sullivan managed a smile an
d blew a cloud of steam into his gloved hands. “I’ll bet the temperature got down to zero last night. I heard that there was a fire about midnight over near Cherry Creek and the fire wagon couldn’t so much as put out a spit of water because their tank was frozen solid! Place burned to the ground.”

  “It’s late February,” Longarm said, slapping the snow and ice off his coat and pants. “This winter will soon be over.”

  “Don’t bet on it,” Officer Sullivan countered. “I’ve seen it snow here in March.”

  “Yeah, I know,” Longarm said. “But see if you can get something done about this icy sidewalk before someone breaks bones or cracks open their skull.”

  “It’ll start to melt in a few more hours,” Sullivan promised. “But I’ll try to warn people.”

  “Well,” Longarm snapped with irritation, “you sure didn’t warn me.”

  “Thought you’d see it and walk around.”

  Longarm frowned and continued up the street. When he arrived at the Federal Building, he ascended stairs to the second floor, where his office was located.

  “Marshal Vail is waiting for you with the new man,” one of the officers said.

  “How’s he looking?”

  “Vail or the new man?”

  “The new man.”

  The officer shrugged. “He looks like a boy. I doubt he even needs to shave yet. And get this . . . his father is our mayor.”

  Longarm blinked. “What . . .”

  The officer shrugged and went back to reading his newspaper, saying, “Don’t ask me anything. All I know is that this one is a real peach and you had better treat him right or you’ll soon have your nuts crushed in a political vise.”

  Longarm’s already dark mood grew a shade darker. “Why on earth would Billy Vail hire the mayor’s son!”

  The officer glanced up from his morning paper. “Dunno. I expect that he had no choice.”

  “Yeah, just like I don’t have any choice in taking him on,” Longarm growled as he headed toward Billy’s office.

  “Come in!” Billy said, rising to his feet behind his desk. “Marshal Long, I’d like you to meet our new deputy, Henry Plummer.”

  Longarm turned to see a man, who looked to be no more than twenty, with rosy cheeks and a wide, infectious smile, extend his hand. Longarm managed a smile and shook Henry’s hand, which was soft but at least had a firm grip. “How are you doin’ today, Henry?”

  “I’m fine,” Plummer said. “I feel honored to finally meet you, Marshal Long. I’ve heard so much about you for years.”

  “Some good, I hope.”

  “All good,” Plummer said enthusiastically. “And Marshal Vail says that you’ve kindly offered to take me under your wing and show me the ropes, so to speak.”

  Longarm was very tempted to tell the new man that he hadn’t “offered” anything but had been ordered to take on the new man. “I expect that we’ll just do some routine work, Henry. Nothing much out of the ordinary.”

  But Billy Vail had a different idea. “Truth is, Custis, I’ve got something pretty special for you and Henry to work on this week. Something not too dangerous but interesting.”

  Longarm studied his boss for a minute and said, “I thought you said that I had to get my backlog of paperwork taken care of this week.”

  “Aw,” Billy said expansively, “that can wait awhile longer. I have something much more pressing for you and young Marshal Plummer. Why don’t you both sit down and we’ll talk about it.”

  “I’m all ears,” Longarm said drily as he cast an appraising glance at the new recruit, noting that Henry Plummer was almost as tall as himself but much lighter in weight. He was a remarkably good-looking fellow with sandy-blond hair, deep blue eyes, and perfect teeth that gave him a boyish look, which was not a good thing for a federal marshal. When a lawman went up against some of the Denver hard cases that he was sure to face off against, it always helped to have a tough appearance rather than one that was overly friendly and youthful. Henry was also too well dressed for his new career. His suit and pants had obviously been expensively tailored, and his gold watch put Longarm’s railroad watch and chain to shame. Henry’s boots were shined to a high polish, and Longarm would have bet anything that Henry had not ever shined his own boots but instead paid for the service.

  “So, Henry, why don’t you tell us all a little about yourself before we talk business,” Billy Vail suggested. “I know your father quite well and he’s doing a fine job as mayor.”

  “Thank you,” Henry said, looking genuinely pleased. “I’ll pass that compliment on to him.”

  “So,” Longarm said, already getting impatient with the niceties of this conversation. “Why did you decide that you wanted to be a federal marshal when I’m sure that you could have done many things that were less dangerous and paid more money?”

  “Oh,” Henry said, giving him a self-deprecating shrug and smile, “I just wanted to do something different than my father and his friends. Mostly, I wanted to be a lawman and prove to myself that I could handle danger and take responsibility. You know, be my own man.”

  “If you don’t mind my asking, why do you think,” Longarm said choosing his words with care, “that becoming a law officer is the only way that you can become your ‘own man’?”

  For the first time, Henry Plummer dropped his amicable act and looked first at Billy and then directly into Longarm’s eyes. All the pretend good humor went right out of him. “Do you know anything about my family?”

  “Only that your father made a fortune in real estate somewhere back east and then got into politics and has done pretty well here, too.”

  “My father lost my mother when I was only six years old,” Henry Plummer said in a subdued voice. “Back then my parents lived in Baltimore, and before my father inherited some money and began investing in real estate he was a local policeman.”

  Longarm was caught by surprise. “Your father was once a policeman?”

  “A highly decorated detective in Baltimore,” Plummer said proudly.

  “That’s right,” Billy said, sitting up straighter. “I’d forgotten reading about that part of the mayor’s distinguished background some years ago.”

  “Well maybe you also read how my mother . . . was murdered.” Henry Plummer bent his head and took a deep breath. “She was only twenty-seven at the time.”

  “I don’t believe that I read anything about that,” Billy admitted.

  “My mother was taking me to a private school just two blocks from our home. She was beautiful, and I suppose it was obvious that we had some money even back in those days. So when two hard cases accosted her demanding her purse and jewelry, it must have seemed to them to be an easy mark.”

  Longarm threw a leg over his knee and leaned forward because this story wasn’t expected and it was getting interesting.

  “Go on,” Billy urged.

  “Everything went wrong in seconds,” Henry Plummer whispered, his voice now strained with emotion. “A local police officer happened to see what was going on and came running to our aid. He pulled a revolver, but he couldn’t possibly fire at the two thieves, for fear of hitting either myself or my mother. Knowing that full well, the two men also shot the Baltimore policeman to death right in the middle of the street. When my mother tried to stop them, they turned and one of the men shot her point-blank in the heart. Two bullets, dead center.”

  Henry Plummer stopped, momentarily unable to continue.

  After a pause, Longarm said, “Henry, you don’t have to say anything more.”

  “Oh,” Henry said, “but I do. When my mother fell to the street, she was choking and quivering in the throes, and I told her that I would one day find those two men and bring them to justice and then I would make it my life’s work to take people like that off the streets. The moment she died, I ran t
o the policeman’s side but he was already gone. The man wasn’t much older than my mother and left a wife and two children.”

  “That was quite a thing for a six-year-old boy to have to go through,” Longarm said quietly. “And I’m sorry you had to see your mother and that brave law officer cut down before your eyes.”

  “I am, too,” Billy Vail said.

  “You haven’t quite heard the end of the story,” Henry whispered. “Those men were identified but never caught. For years, my father tried to track them down and make them pay for the terrible thing that they had done to my mother and the Baltimore officer. But they always seemed to be just beyond the grasp of the law. They moved from city to city, never staying more than a few months and always robbing and killing innocent people. As I was growing up, justice was all that my father talked about, until the last detective he hired confirmed that the pair were brothers and that they had finally put roots down here in Denver. As a law officer, I mean to find them and get even.”

  “Do you know their names?”

  “Yeah. Dirk and Harold Raney. At least that was what they used to be called. “My father is pretty sure that they changed their names when they got to Denver, because he hired a detective here and the man came up empty-handed.”

  “What did they do to make a living besides robbing people?”

  “They were pickpockets and petty thieves. I think one or maybe both were mule skinners and freight wagon drivers.”

  Longarm glanced sharply at his boss, who said, “Listen, Henry, perhaps I made a mistake in swearing you in as an officer. And while I’m sure that Custis as well as I, we’re deeply saddened by what happened when you were six years old . . . well, this isn’t the place for you or your father to see your long overdue restitution.”

  “I think it is exactly the place for that,” Henry Plummer bluntly told them. “I made that solemn childhood vow to my dying mother and I mean to keep it or die trying.”

  Longarm stood up. “Billy, we need to talk privately for a few moments right now.”

  “Sure,” Billy said, looking very grim. “Henry, would you please step outside?”