Longarm #399 : Longarm and the Grand Canyon Murders (9781101554401) Read online

  “Maybe in Flagstaff or on the reservation it would, but everything we have has to be freighted a long damn way down here. So your dollar will get you two drinks and a plate of cold beef and beans.”

  “Then that’s what I’ll have,” Longarm told the woman. “Whiskey first.”

  What she poured was so murky you couldn’t see through it from one side of the glass to the other. When Longarm raised the glass to his lips, it even smelled bad. “What kind of horse piss do you serve here?”

  “One kind and you’re holdin’ it,” she snapped, taking the dollar and dropping it into her dirty dress pocket. “You want that plate of beef and beans now?”

  “If it is fit to eat.”

  “It’s fit. Maybe you’d like to get fancy and buy a can of peaches to go with it,” she suggested.

  Longarm shook his head and choked down the whiskey in a single gulp. “Worst horse piss I’ve had in a long, long time. Got any beer?”

  “Nope.”

  “Then give me another glass and bring that food along.”

  The woman squinted one eye, spat her own stream of tobacco on the floor, and growled, “You’re kinda used to givin’ folks orders, huh?”

  “I am as a matter of fact.”

  “Well,” she said, lips curling down at the corners, “down here in the canyon we don’t cotton to strangers who are uppity and like to give orders.”

  Longarm took a step back. “Are you and those two half-wits outside completely stupid or are you three just plain disagreeable and ornery?”

  “Mister, I’m ornery enough to tell you to eat your meal, drink your second drink, and then drag your tall ass back to wherever it came from!”

  Longarm had rarely seen such open hostility… especially from someone who ought to be trying to make money off the sale of food or drinks. He wanted to let these ignorant people know that he wasn’t in any mood for their orneriness. He also wanted to tell them that he was a federal marshal that had come a long way to learn about the disappearances of a judge and his wife and also the death of three river guides, but he decided to hold his silence for the time being.

  “Here,” the woman said, slapping a jug on the plank. “Pour yourself another glass and try to be more sociable, or leave…makes no matter to me.”

  Longarm poured. The woman went into another small room and came back a few minutes later with a bent tin plate filled with some greasy beef and cold beans. “You can eat right there on the bar.”

  “You call this rotting plank a ‘bar’?”

  “It serves the purpose of one.”

  Longarm lifted the plate and took a good smell. It didn’t stink, and he guessed it wasn’t rotten, so he demanded a knife and spoon, which seemed to nettle the ugly woman no end.

  “Most folks eat it with their fingers,” she snorted, disappearing for a moment to return with a knife and fork. “But then some can’t wipe their asses properly, so I guess they need a knife and a fork.”

  Longarm bit back a reply and cut the lardy beef and chomped it down. He hadn’t eaten much since leaving the Rimrock Hotel, and he was famished enough to endure this cold and miserable meal.

  “I was thinking of renting a boat and riding the river a ways,” he said after he’d managed to swallow his food and then toss down the cloudy whiskey. “I saw those boats beached on the sand and figured that they were for rent.”

  “Ha!” The woman put her hands on her hips and gave him a superior smile. “You ain’t no riverboat man! Why, if you got out on that Colorado River, it’d sweep you away and drown your ass at the first little rapids and white water. Not that I’d give a damn…but them boats are too good to lose.”

  “So I have to hire one or both of those morons out front to take me on the river?”

  “That’s the size of it.” She cackled. “But if you want to take a bath in the river, be our guest! Course, it’s even dirtier than yourself.”

  Longarm burped, and the aftertaste in his mouth wasn’t pleasant. “What’s your name?”

  “Gertie. Gertie Rowe. What’s it to you?”

  “Are those two inbred-looking fellas outside your brothers?”

  “Matter of fact they are. Wade and Orvis Rowe. And now that I’ve told you that, what’s your gawdamn handle?”

  “Custis Long.”

  “Well,” she said, looking him up and down. “You’re long, all right. Taller than Wade or Orvis, I’d say. You probably got a longer cock on you too.”

  “You’ll never know,” he told her.

  “Hump! If you wanted a poke in me, I’d probably turn you down.”

  “I wouldn’t put my cock in you even if someone held a shotgun to my head, Gertie.”

  “You are an uppity bastard, Custis Long. Do you want to spend the night? I can rent you a tent that’ll keep you dry if it rains tonight. Your horse looks like a dyin’ bag of bones, and a bag of oats and some cut grass is for sale.”

  Longarm belched again and felt a little queasy in the stomach. “Tell you what, Gertie. I’ve had about all the fun and laughter I can stand being here with you. But I will pay you another dollar to hear what you have to say about the disappearance of Judge Quinn and his young wife a few weeks ago, along with how three river guides had their throats slit.”

  “So that’s your game! You’re a fuckin’ lawman!” Gertie cackled and shouted, “Hey, Wade! We got ourselves a lawman come askin’ questions about that judge and his pretty little squat! And about them fellas that got drunk a few weeks ago, got fightin’ and cut each other’s throats!”

  Longarm shook his head. “Gertie, are you tryin’ to tell me they all cut each other’s throats?”

  “Why sure! They got drunker than loons right here at this bar, and when they started to quarreling, I threw them out. Next thing I know they are down on the beach around our boats fightin’ and howlin’ like wild Indians on firewater. Why, me and my brothers just decided to let them have their fight and stay out of it, and the next mornin’, when we got up and went down to see ’em, they was all dead as dogs.”

  “Gertie, I’ve heard some lame lies in my time, but that one just takes the cake. It really does. Surely you can come up with something better.”

  “She’s tellin’ you how it happened, Lawman. Best not be callin’ my sister a liar.”

  Longarm turned around to see the taller of the pair standing with an old Navy Colt pointed at him. “Are you Wade or Orvis?”

  The tall man blinked. “Orvis. And I reckon you need to unbuckle that gun and let it drop to the floor.”

  “Are you three planning on robbing me?” Longarm asked with surprise. “I’m a United States marshal, and if you don’t put that old Navy away right now I’m going to ram it up your skinny ass and pull the trigger.”

  “Ha!” Gertie cried, scooping up a shotgun from somewhere behind the bar and cocking back the hammer. “Look at this stupid, uppity lawman! We’re holdin’ all the cards in this game, and he’s threatening’ to shove your gun up your ass, Orvis!”

  “Maybe that rotgut he just drank already poisoned his brain,” Wade chortled.

  “Mister Lawman,” Orvis said, all humor falling away, “with your left hand and usin’ your fingers only, lift that Colt that’s facin’ butt forward up and then drop it on the floor nice and easy.”

  “Looks like a good gun,” Wade said, “probably worth fifteen, maybe even twenty dollars. And those boots and that hat…”

  “Shut up,” Orvis ordered.

  “Only tellin’ what I see,” Wade whined.

  “Mister,” Orvis said, “I ain’t goin’ to ask you a second time to unholster that hog leg and then reach for the sky.”

  Longarm knew that he had no chance, with Gertie at his back holding a shotgun and the man in front of him holding the Navy, so he did as he was told.

  “Now,” Orvis said, “get down on your knees.”

  “I already said my prayers,” Longarm told him, forcing a hard smile.

  “Well, they ain’t bein’ answered
, Mister Lawman. Now, do it!”

  Longarm’s mind was racing. How in the world was he going to get out of this mess alive? “One question, if you don’t mind. Did the three of you kill the judge and his young wife and dump their bodies in the river?”

  “What’s it your business to know?” Orvis demanded. “Could be you’ll wind up the same way.”

  “So you did murder them both?”

  “We murdered the judge, but the woman escaped and jumped into one of our boats to get away clean. She’d have drowned though ’cause she don’t know that big river and she didn’t look strong enough to handle a pair of oars. But damn she was pretty!”

  “Shut up, Wade!” Gertie and Orvis both shouted at the same time.

  “Oh,” Longarm said, trying hard to sound matter-of-fact, “I was almost certain that you’d robbed and killed the judge and his wife. Glad to hear that the woman got away. And what about the three river guides?”

  “What about ’em?”

  “Well,” Longarm mused, “my guess is that all of you were drunk and one of you geniuses slipped up and admitted to killing the judge and trying to kill his wife. Having done that, you had no choice but to kill those river guides to keep them from telling people your secret.”

  “I told you they slit each other’s damned throats!” Gertie screamed, jabbing the shotgun into Longarm’s spine.

  Longarm nodded. “With a little help from Wade and Orvis, I’ll bet.”

  “Mister, you are about to meet your maker,” Orvis growled. “But before you do, I’d like to know if any more lawmen are comin’ our way.”

  “If I disappear, you can be sure of it,” Longarm told them.

  “Well, Mister Lawman, you have to disappear,” Gertie said. “But I’d rather we spilled your blood and guts outside where the varmints will clean it up instead of right here where I’ll have to do it.”

  “Sure,” Longarm said cryptically, “why mess up such a nice place as you have here?”

  “You’ve got a smart mouth on you, Marshal,” Gertie hissed. “Gonna be a pleasure to toss your dead ass in the river. Boys, he’s wearin’ a nice watch and chain. I want that when you’ve taken care of him.”

  “Enough talk,” Longarm said, stepping toward the door. “If I’m going to die, I’d like to get it over with.”

  “And aren’t you the brave one,” Wade snarled. “Maybe we’ll just shoot some bullets into your balls and let you jump around a little before we put you out of your misery.”

  Longarm swallowed hard. “You people are real thoughtful. Why don’t we get moving, because this hog sty you call a store and saloon is about to make me puke.”

  “Get him out of here and get it done,” Gertie hissed.

  Longarm knew that he had one chance and one chance only, and that was when he stepped through the door. If he could step through it and use the double-barreled .44-caliber derringer attached to his watch fob, he could spin and shoot the closest one in the head and use his second shot to kill the other brother. Gertie and her shotgun were going to be tougher to kill because there was no way she could miss him at close range.

  One thing for certain, Longarm had no intention of winding up being fish food like the late Judge Quinn and his pretty young wife, Mavis.

  Chapter 22

  “Just one thing,” Longarm said as he walked between Wade and Orvis on his way to the door.

  “And what the hell is that?” Wade demanded.

  Longarm stepped through the doorway and spun on his heel, hand going for the hide-out derringer he always carried in his vest pocket. “This!”

  The derringer had saved his life on many occasions, and now it came out of his pocket with well-practiced ease. The dull-witted Wade had been right behind him, but Longarm’s unexpected remark had momentarily distracted him. Longarm didn’t even try to aim but shoved the gun into Wade’s belly and unleashed his first shot. The retort sounded like the trunk of a big tree snapping in a very high wind.

  “Ugggh!” Wade screamed, falling back into Orvis, who was right on his heels. Wade’s gun barked, but its bullet struck a porch post. Longarm grabbed the dying man to use as a shield and fired the derringer again almost point-blank into Orvis, who started backpedaling into the store and crashed over a pickle barrel, spilling its brine across the floor to mix with his blood.

  “Gawdamn you!” Gertie screamed, rounding the plank bar top with her single-barreled shotgun. “Damn you to hell!”

  Longarm’s derringer was empty, and he knew he didn’t have time to scoop up one of the fallen brother’s pistols before Gertie would be hovering over him to unleash a killing blast. There being no alternative, he turned and ran like hell straight for the Colorado River.

  Old Red almost jumped right out of his skin when Gertie fired off her porch at the fleeing Longarm. The roan gelding reared back, busting his reins, and went galloping away, showing amazing speed. Longarm felt several shotgun pellets swarm around him, but Gertie was big and slow and he was lean and fast, and he had enough wits about him not to run in a straight line for the nearby river.

  Boom!

  A second blast resounded up and down the towering canyon walls as Longarm shoved a rowboat into the water and then dove into it as the current began to slowly spin the wooden craft downriver.

  Frantic and knowing the crazy woman was coming, Longarm grabbed oars and saw big, fat Gertie lumber to the water’s edge and pry an empty shell out of the shotgun and insert a fresh round. Longarm ducked low in the boat as it seemed to take forever to gain momentum.

  Boom!

  He was almost out of the shotgun’s range now, but several pieces of lead cut through the boat’s side, sending splinters flying. Gertie was screaming, but her voice was growing fainter as the boat finally began to accelerate with the swift, roiling current. The fat woman was running as fast as she could along the beach while trying to reload. Longarm grabbed the oars and pulled with all his might as he willed the current to take him completely out of her deadly shotgun’s range.

  If the situation had not been so desperate, Longarm would have howled with laughter watching the fat, ugly Gertie trying to reload and run at the same time. But the hard truth was that Gertie was closing in and would have probably blown both Longarm and his boat to smithereens except that she tripped over a tree root and crashed face-first onto the muddy beach.

  “Ha!” Longarm shouted. “Gawdamn you, Gertie! I’ll come back and see you hanged with a stout chain, you fat, ugly pig!”

  Gertie looked up, her mud-plastered face actually an improvement. She spat mud and jumped up, grabbing the shotgun and trying to get it un-fouled of the mud. But by then Longarm was pulling on the oars and heading for white-water rapids.

  “Oh shit,” he cried as the shot-riddled rowboat began to take on water and bounce like a cork on a storm-tossed ocean. “Oh, shit!”

  The rowboat was sinking. The rapids were roaring in his ears and white water was boiling all around him. Longarm was a strong swimmer, but this situation demanded something beyond any mere human’s physical capacity.

  The rowboat struck a boulder jutting out of the water and its hull splintered. Water squirted along the crack into the boat, and Longarm desperately pulled for the opposite shore as the boat began to spin in lazy, dying circles.

  He tore off his coat and boots, knowing they would only drag him down. Longarm went back to the oars, but now it was like trying to move an elephant stuck in quicksand.

  He saw another boulder directly up ahead and pulled on the oars with all his might, trying to avoid another collision. The roar of the mighty Colorado filled his ears, and he could barely see for the spray in his face.

  Ride this sinking son of a bitch as long as it’s afloat, and when it goes under, grab wood and swim for your life, Custis!

  That was all he could think of to do now, but given the power that got ahold of him it seemed most likely that he was going to wind up like all the others…just more fish food.

  Chapter 23
/>   The boat struck the boulder and tried to lift up over the top of it, but that’s when the hull broke completely in half. For one terrifying moment, Longarm was airborne. He looked down at the raging river and hoped that he would not fall to be impaled on some sharply pointed rock or piece of hung-up driftwood.

  He tumbled back into the water. Its current was so powerful it pulled him deeper, so that his body kept striking submerged rocks.

  Longarm fought wildly to reach the surface, although he was not entirely sure which direction that might be. The water was so muddy that he was a blind man clawing at unseen things, smashing into unseen objects and trying to retain his consciousness even as his lungs were screeching for oxygen.

  At last! At last his head burst into air and he swung his long arms around until he felt a large piece of the rowboat’s hull. Longarm’s fingers clamped onto the wood and he hung on tightly as the river bore him over the rapids. His legs were being hammered unmercifully against barely submerged rocks. He couldn’t see, sometimes went under for a moment, but then managed to get his head above water again and grab the wooden wreckage.

  At last he was through the rapids, and although the river was still hammering his body, the roar lessened somewhat and he could see himself being carried around a sharp bend. The cliffs had already closed in on him, and directly overhead was a bright blue wedge of sky.

  Longarm drew a forearm across his face and looked for a beach or cove where he might be able to survive. He saw several places where small side canyons came down to the Colorado from both the north and south rims, but the current was still so fast he wasn’t able to reach them.

  And then…then he saw the big side canyon and a beach with willows and cottonwood trees about a half mile ahead on the south shore. Longarm also heard the already much too familiar sound of roaring water up ahead and knew that he was in for another stretch of rapids, possibly even worse than the ones he’d barely survived.

  This is your chance! This is your only chance! Leave this wreckage and swim for your life!