Longarm 241: Longarm and the Colorado Counterfeiter Read online

  At one o’clock, he stood up, checked the ammunition in his rifle, and made sure he had rifle ammunition in his shirt pockets and pistol ammunition in both pants pockets. He turned and walked out the door, heading for the livery stable. The moon was still up, still full, and it was still throwing a lot of light. By the time it went down, he ought to know something.

  Chapter 6

  About 2:30, he had all in readiness. He had ridden the mare, loaded down with the forty sticks of dynamite, twenty in each side of the bag. He had brought along tape, blasting caps, and fuse. He made his way up the side of the mountain, having a hard time of it with the dynamite and his rifle. He had to make two trips, but he had been careful not to highlight himself by raising his head above the crest of the hill. He had picked a point even further south than before, where he was almost an equal distance between the house and the two bunkhouses. The bunkhouses were narrow and ran side by side away from him. They were a little closer to the side of the hills than the big house was. There were other outbuildings, but he wasn’t concerned with them.

  Now, working as quietly as he could, he taped twenty of the dynamite sticks together. He couldn’t do it in one bundle at one time. He had to tape them five at a time, and then put four bundles of five together and tape them. After that, he rammed home a blasting cap with six feet of fuse in it. He had already picked out his place. There was a large pile of rocks and boulders about halfway down the slope. It was exactly what he had in mind. It should give him a cannonade of large proportions. He slipped down the side of the small mountain and buried his dynamite in place. Next, he went back up and worked the rest of the dynamite into a similar bundle. This time, he put a two-foot cord on the bundle. That was enough for only one minute. Not a lot to play with.

  As he was slipping down the mountain, groping his way, not so much from the darkness but from the uncertain footing, he chanced to see a dark shadow out of the comer of his eye, down on the ground, perhaps fifty yards from the base of the hill. He froze, and tried to make himself look like a rock. It was a rider. Longarm could see him sitting his horse, staring up, but couldn’t do anything. For a second, he was fearful the man would raise the alarm. But just then, the rider turned his horse in the direction of the big house and started riding, taking his horse in a slow trot.

  The moment the rider’s back was to him, Longarm wasted no time. He immediately came out with a match and lit the fuse. As he did so, he stood up and started to turn. It was at that instant that the man riding the horse must have seen the flame from his match, or else the sparkle of the fuse, for he immediately wheeled his horse around and started riding hard back toward where Longarm was standing. Longarm turned. Knowing he could not stay there with that short fuse, he started to run to the other bundle of dynamite. He heard a shot ring out, and heard it strike rock and go singing off. He stopped, and fell down by the rock pile where he had buried the rest of the dynamite. He could see the man levering his rifle for another shot, but he knew the man couldn’t see him where Longarm was hidden. He struck another match and then lit the fuse, and made a quick scrambling run to the crest of the hill and fell over. As he did, he heard another rifle bullet sing through the air, and heard the crack of the man’s carbine.

  In that same second, the first bundle of dynamite went off and the blast almost knocked Longarm down. The blast was enough to deafen him. He stood in awe as he saw the billows of rocks and dirt and debris go flying straight toward the bunkhouses and toward the ranch. The man who had been firing at him was standing almost directly in the way. Even on a fast horse, he’d never have a chance.

  Longarm stood up and watched, smelling the cordite in the air, as big rocks, some as big as a saddle, plummeted down on the two bunkhouses. He could see holes appearing in the roofs of the two buildings. Strangely enough, no one came running out. He thought he knew why. The last time they came out, they had been fired on. Some of the smaller rocks had hit the house. He saw some break a window. It made him feel good. He half whispered, “How do you like them apples, Mr. Ashton.”

  He had almost forgotten about the second blast, and was standing right straight behind it on the crest of the mountain. When it went, it caused him to stagger backward. The wind of the concussion wave hit him and almost knocked him down. He did not notice the noise so much this time, as he had almost been deafened by the first blast.

  The second was practically a duplicate of the first, except the rocks seemed to go further because they were smaller. Again, he could see holes appearing in the walls and the roofs and the windows. He had his carbine ready to fire on anyone who came out. No one appeared. He didn’t really think anyone was going to appear until the next day. Off in the distance, he could see a few riders going back and forth, but they didn’t seem to be in any rush to charge to the rescue of the ranch headquarters. It made Longarm smile.

  He took his rifle and went down the hill to where his horse was tied. He mounted up and then rode toward the cleft in the rocks, the exit from the ranch. He took his place behind the same boulder he had been behind the last time. If they wanted to come out, he was willing to meet them halfway. In fact, if they came out as a peace party, he would even meet them that way. He settled down to wait.

  Less time passed than he would have guessed. All of a sudden, out of the pitch blackness of the hole in the side of the mountain came a loud “Hello!” It was repeated. “Hello! Hello out there!”

  Longarm turned his head a little so that the direction of his voice wouldn’t be so easy to place. He said, “I hear you. Go ahead.”

  The voice said, “I don’t know who you be, but we’ve had enough. There’s me and six others who want to come out and go our way. We ain’t got no guns in our hands and we don’t want no trouble. We don’t know what your quarrel is with this here ranch, but we are quitting it. We don’t work here no more. We don’t work no more for Mr. Ashton. We don’t work for Mr. Early no more. We’d just as soon not be shot down. Play square with us. Tell us what your plans are.”

  Longarm peered over the top of the boulder he was sequestered behind. He said, “If you’re telling the truth, you’ve got nothing to fear. If you’re not, you’re going to get a .44 cartridge in the middle of your forehead. I’ll make you a third eye.”

  “We are telling the truth. We are quitting this game, throwing our hands in. Now, what do we do?”

  Longarm said as he squinted over the sights of his rifle, “Come out one at a time, slow, and bear sharp to the south.”

  “You want our hands in the air or what?”

  “Just put your hands on your saddle horns. You might fall off if you have your hands in the air. You never can tell when a horse will spook with a high moon like we have tonight.”

  “A couple of us are hurt from some of those damned rocks that got rained down on us. We need to get into town and see the doctor.”

  Longarm said, “I’m telling you, ride due south. If you figure seeing the doctor is worth your life, then you go ahead. But I’ll be there and I’ll turn you back.”

  He could hear muffled voices. The voice of the spokesman said, “All right. Have it your way. We can find a doctor on down the road. You mean, you don’t want us going into Silverton at all. Is that it?”

  “That’s the ticket,” Longarm said. “You stay clear of Silverton. For the time being, I don’t want them knowing what’s up.”

  “Do you mind telling us what your business is, mister?”

  Longarm said, “It ain’t none of yours. Now, do you want out of there or not? I’m going to start counting, and if you ain’t moving by the time I get to one, I’m going to start firing into that hole.”

  The man said hurriedly, “We are coming. Hold on!”

  The next thing Longarm could see was a horseman exiting the cleft, bearing sharply to his left, and riding at a slow trot, heading down toward the mining camps, which were fifteen to twenty miles away.

  Another man came out, and then another and then another, until seven riders had
left the confines of the ranch. Longarm called to the last two, “Hold up, you two. Hold up.”

  They dragged their horses in reluctantly. The tail man said, “Hell, mister. I’m one of the ones that are hurt. A rock hit me on the shoulder and liked to cave it in. I wish you’d let me go on and get some help.”

  “Tell me the truth and you can go quick as you want to. Who is left on that ranch?”

  The other man with him spoke up. He said, “We don’t rightly know. There was five going to try and get out the southeast end of the place, but it’s a rough way to go. You’ve got to damned near lead your horses through some tough, rough terrain. It’s rocky as hell, but they were going to try it.”

  “What about Early?”

  The hurt man said, “Oh, he’s still there. I reckon he’s in the big house with Mr. Ashton and the women.”

  Longarm’s ears perked up. He said, “Women? How many women?”

  “Well, there’s Ashton’s sweetheart, if that’s what she is, or his whore, whichever one you want to call it. And then there’s her aunt or her mother or her chaperone or whatever. Then there’s a couple of maids.”

  “You’re telling me that all there is in there is Early and Ashton.”

  The hurt man said, “I wouldn’t take that any too lightly, neighbor. Early ain’t no bad hand. If I were you, mister, I wouldn’t let that friendly smile he gets on his face fool you none. Inside, he’s the very devil. I wouldn’t be in no rush to go slinging on in there. I don’t know what your business is, and I don’t know why you’ve gone through so much trouble to run us out. You’ve done a good job at that. But you might find the going a little rough from here on in.”

  Longarm said, “Do you think those five got out?”

  The man shrugged. “I couldn’t say, mister. I reckon they did, or else they’d be down here trying to get out. I know one thing. They are leaving one way or the other.”

  Longarm eased the hammer down on his rifle. He said, “Ride on. Sorry about your shoulder, but that’s what comes from working for the wrong man.”

  The hurt man said, “Well, you better hope that you don’t get a chance to say that about yourself. Let’s go, Charlie.”

  The men rode on, catching up with the rest, headed away from Silverton, due south toward the mining camps. Longarm stood up slowly and walked over and shoved his rifle into the boot. It was just about time to go and settle matters with Ashton. He hoped the man would not have destroyed any evidence. His job, after all, was to get the plates or paper or whatever they called it that the man used to make counterfeit bills. That was what he was going to do.

  Chapter 7

  He waited for a short time. The moon was heading down now, going out of sight behind the higher peaks of the mountains. Soon, it would be at the darkest part of the night. He wanted the cover of that darkness to make his approach to Ashton’s castle. There might have been only two men left there, but either one of them could accidentally put a bullet through Longarm’s middle. He was all too aware of that.

  He sat the mare just inside the cleft in the mountain with the clear prairie before him, watching the moon, letting it get darker and darker. When he judged it to be around four o’clock in the morning, he nudged the mare and began slowly making his way toward Ashton’s headquarters, all the while sweeping his eyes across the prairie, looking for any riders that might have forgotten to leave.

  He rode up as close to the little line of hills as he could, hoping to blend in with the dark rock. He couldn’t see a thing stirring, and he hoped that it would continue that way. He had no real plan except to get in the main headquarters, get Ashton by the collar, and see if he could talk with a .44-caliber revolver barrel in his mouth. After he got the plates and the cash and the paper or whatever, he figured he could pay the young señorita some attention and then whomp them all up, wrap them up in a box, tie them up with a ribbon, and take them back to Billy Vail.

  It was easy to tell where he had set off his explosions, for the ground was thick with rocks, some as big as baseballs and some nearly as big as woodstoves. He was still a good ways from the outbuildings and the headquarters, but he was in no hurry. He wanted to get there right before dawn, when it was as black as it was going to get. That old saying, “It’s always darkest just before dawn,” was one that he hoped would prove true this morning. It wasn’t always the case, depending on the moon up.

  The mare was behaving herself very well. She had been a good using animal on this trip. He figured there ought to be some way he could charge the government for her use as well as for her groceries and her transportation. He would figure out a way to put it on his expense voucher. Billy Vail would raise hell but in the end, he would pay for it. Especially if Longarm was successful on his errand to capture the man who was making twenty-dollar gold certificates.

  Longarm moved the pace up a little as the moon finally began to fade from the sky. Now, he was nearing the place where he had set off the first of the twenty-stick explosions. The bunkhouses were just ahead and to his left. He veered over to get away from the big piles of rubble that the large amounts of dynamite had blasted out of the hills. It looked like some giant hand had come along and swept rocks down onto the grassy prairie. It seemed a waste to Longarm to see all that good land going to waste—not a cow in sight. Now and again, he could see a loose horse, riderless, out grazing. He wondered about the five men who had been trying to get out the south end. He didn’t know how they would act, but to be ready, he eased his rifle out of the boot and continued on, keeping watch and being careful to guide his horse through the debris of the explosion.

  He didn’t expect to have to fight the five men. He rather expected that they’d had enough trouble and like the others, were pretty well beaten down. He kept an eye on the moon, waiting for its last rays to fade. He still had to be careful with his horse, because now he was in the area where his big bomb had exploded and there were some good-sized rocks in his path. He steered his horse left toward the dim outline of the two bunkhouses. It came to his mind that he should dismount fairly soon and proceed ahead on foot. A man was a good deal easier to see on a horse.

  Longarm came even with the bunkhouses. They were still dark, and there was not a sound. He pulled the mare up to listen. Again, there was nothing. He decided, with the main house only about a quarter of a mile further on, that it was time for him to go ahead on foot. He hated to walk in his high-heeled boots, but it was better than getting shot out of the saddle.

  The moon had dropped down until it had finally disappeared behind the last crag of mountains. There was a faint afterglow in the sky, but the darkness was almost as complete as it would get. Longarm eased his leg over the back of the saddle, hearing the creak of the leather in the quiet night. He continued on until he dismounted. He dropped the reins of the mare, and then took a few steps forward and holding his rifle at the ready, peered carefully into the dark gloom of the night that lay ahead of him. There was no sign of light anywhere, not even in the big house.

  He stepped out, moving slowly but carefully. He passed the first of the bunkhouses, and then the second. There was a space, and then beyond that was a small barn. There was a bigger one behind that. He was looking for movement. He saw none. He kept walking slowly, carefully, ever alert, the rifle ready in his hands. It was ready to fire from the hip or throw to his shoulder. Ahead now were nothing but a small stone house and then the big castlelike structure of Ashton’s. He walked toward the small stone house, made to seem small only in comparison to the size of Ashton’s place. He wondered if the one-story house, if it was that, was where they actually did the counterfeiting, where the plates and the paper and whatnot were stored. It didn’t seem to have any windows in it that he could see, though he wasn’t close enough in the dark to be able to really tell. There could have been windows that were curtained over that he wasn’t able to see. He directed his steps, turning to his left and heading toward the smaller house. It was all brick, no wooden framework on it as there was on
Ashton’s house.

  Not a light showed from the building. He doubted there was anyone there. Likely, it had been the home of one of the foreman. Maybe it still was. Maybe that foreman was still in there. If that was the case, Longarm couldn’t afford to pass the place and have it to his back when he was trying to enter Ashton’s house.

  He stopped for a moment to reach around and adjust his gun belt. When he dismounted, he had taken the trouble to take out his spare revolver and stick it in the back waistline of his pants. It was uncomfortable and awkward and weighed down on his gun belt, but though a spare gun was something you might never need, if you did, you might need it awful bad. You never knew when you might get into a shooting fix where the six you were carrying in your revolver was one bullet too short. Then you really wanted that second gun. But a .44-caliber revolver was a heavy piece of business, and he had to get it resettled before he could move along.

  Longarm looked at the small building, and then took a few steps to the low stone porch. There was no sign of activity inside, but he was going to have to open the door and make an examination before he could risk going on. He’d bypassed the bunkhouses, for it was clear they were deserted. He couldn’t take the time to examine every outbuilding, but this little house stood so close to the castle, it would be almost at his back when he was trying to gain entry.

  He stepped up on the porch, and then moved swiftly across and felt the door handle. It turned easily in his hand. It wasn’t locked. He pushed it open and then stepped back out of the way, clear of the opening. Nothing happened. He stood still, trying to stifle the sound of his own breathing. After a moment, he peeked around the door frame to see what he could of the inside.

  It was very difficult to see anything, for it was darker inside than it was on the outside. Stooping a little, holding the rifle in front of him, he stepped into the front part of the building. After a moment, his eyes adjusted and he could see that there were very few windows, and those that were there were covered with curtains of some kind. He moved along, taking each step carefully, sliding his boot across the floor with as little disturbance as he could manage.