Longarm 245: Longarm and the Vanishing Virgin (6 page)

Faced with a dwindling supply of options, Longarm began making the rounds of the stagecoach companies. Several of them maintained offices in Denver, and he checked with each in turn. With so many railroads criss-crossing the country these days, the stage lines didn't do as much business as they once had, but they still carried quite a few passengers to the places the railroads didn't reach.

It was late afternoon before Longarm got the first lucky break that had come along in this case.

He was in the office of the Richter, Gramlich & Burke Stagecoach Company, one of the smaller outfits, talking to a ticket agent named Waterman. Longarm described Nora Canady, and before he was even finished, the young man was nodding.

“Yes, sir,” said Waterman, “that sounds like a lady who came in here early Sunday morning and bought a ticket for Raton.”

“How early?”

“It was right after we opened up, if I recall correctly. About eight o'clock.”

Just on general principles, Longarm tried not to let the agent see this news affected him. “When did the stage for Raton leave?”

“Nine o'clock, on the dot. We may be one of the smaller operations, but we stick to our schedule,” Waterman added proudly.

Longarm reached into his coat—not the one he'd gotten dirty rolling in the street the night before—and slid the framed photograph of Nora Canady from the inside pocket where he had been carrying it all day. He'd planned to be careful about showing it around, holding it in reserve until he got a strong nibble such as the one he had now. He turned it so that Waterman could see the picture and asked, “Is this the lady?”

An admiring grin split the young man's face. “It sure is. I wouldn't forget somebody that pretty.”

Longarm put the photograph away, causing Waterman to look slightly disappointed. “How long does it take that stage to get to Raton?” Longarm asked.

“It's a three-day run.”

That would have put Nora into Raton late in the day on Tuesday. This was Thursday. She had a good lead on him, but if she was still in Raton, he could catch up to her without too much trouble. Assuming she had even taken the stage and not just bought a ticket to throw any pursuers off the trail.

“You saw her get on the stage yourself?”

“Yes, sir. I put her bag in the boot for her.”

“Where does that stage go from Raton?”

“On down to Tucumcari and then into Texas to Fort Stockton.”

“Rugged country down that way,” said Longarm.

“Yes, sir. But I hear that the Texas & Pacific is building in that direction, and once the railroad goes through, all that part of Texas will get civilized in a hurry.”

Longarm grinned. “Civilization never gets in a hurry in Texas, old son,” he said.

He hoped Nora was still in Raton. The town was just over the border from Colorado in New Mexico Territory, in the Sangre de Cristo Mountains. Longarm knew it well, knew that if Nora was still there, he would probably be able to find her fairly easily. The problem was that from Raton, she would have been able to head southeast into Texas or southwest toward Santa Fe and Albuquerque.

The haystack had gotten smaller, but Nora Canady was still a needle.

Longarm thanked the young ticket agent and headed back to the railroad station. The Atchison, Topeka & Santa Fe could get him to Raton considerably quicker than the Richter, Gramlich & Burke stage line. He was grateful to Waterman for the help, but gratitude only went so far. Right now, speed was more important.

He went ahead and purchased his ticket, knowing that Billy Vail would reimburse him later. Vail got his dander up about some of the expense vouchers Longarm turned in, but he wasn't likely to complain about this one.

The southbound train wasn't due to arrive for another hour, which gave Longarm plenty of time to stop by the Federal Building. Henry ushered him into the chief marshal's office right away.

Vail looked up eagerly. “Find anything, Custis?”

“Maybe,” said Longarm. “I talked to a fella who works for one of the stage lines. He says Nora Canady bought a ticket to Raton early Sunday morning. He put her on the coach himself.”

Vail slapped a palm down on the scarred wooden top of the desk. “Good! I reckon you're on your way down there now?”

“Train leaves in less than an hour,” Longarm confirmed. “All I've got to do first is stop by my place and pick up a few possibles.”

“You've got your ticket already?”

Longarm nodded.

“Good,” Vail said again. “Talk to Henry on your way out. He'll pay you back for the ticket and give you some more expense money. Whatever you need on this one, Custis, no questions asked.”

Longarm frowned as he eased a cheroot from his vest pocket. “Why're you going all out like this, Billy?” he asked. “It ain't like you to get your fur in an uproar over what some politician wants.”

Vail didn't look offended at the blunt question. He and Longarm had known each other for too many years, ridden too many of the same trails, for him to object. His reply was equally blunt.

“Senator Palmer's an important man in Washington,” Vail said. “Word is, he's in line for a committee chairmanship that'll put him in a position to send more funding our way.”

“Money?” said Longarm with a snort. “This is about money?”

As soon as he spoke, he knew he had been too hasty. Billy Vail wasn't the hardcase he had once been, true enough. His hair was thinning and his belly had grown some since he'd taken to riding a desk instead of a horse. But as he looked up at Longarm and scowled, his eyes flashed with the same fire that had scared the piss out of scores of lawbreakers in years past.

“Damn it, Custis,” he said in a low, dangerous voice, “you think I like having to bitch about expenses and watch every penny my men spend? The more funding this office gets, the better prepared all of you deputies are when I send you to risk your lives. I want all you boys to have the best horses, the finest guns, and all the ammunition you could ever need.” He shoved some papers aside brusquely. “Besides, I saw the look in Bryce Canady's eyes when he told us about his daughter being gone. It didn't matter then who he is or how much money and power he has. He was just a daddy who was hurting because he didn't know what had happened to his little girl. That's the sort of man I want to help.”

Longarm was a little embarrassed by what he had said earlier. He covered it by saying, “Well, hell, Billy, you didn't have to go to speechifying. I knew better.”

“Good.” Vail waved a hand. “Now get out of here, and go find that young woman before something bad happens to her.”

Longarm nodded. “That's just what I plan to do.”

But as he turned away, he thought of all the dangers in the world and hoped that he wasn't already too late.

On his way back to the depot, Longarm stopped by his rented room and picked up his Winchester, his carpetbag with a couple of changes of clothes and a box of .44 cartridges in it, and his McClellan saddle. While he hoped that Nora Canady was still in Raton, it was always possible he would have to do some horsebacking before this job was over.

The southbound was on time. It was early evening when the locomotive eased out of the depot and began building up speed. By the next morning it would be in Raton. Longarm was sitting up in one of the coaches, which was where he would be spending the night. All the other accommodations had already been booked.

That was all right, he told himself as he sat and smoked and watched the twilight gathering over the plains outside the window of the coach. He had slept sitting up plenty of times before. In fact, he was just about to doze off when he felt someone sit down on the bench beside him.

He looked around, tensing slightly because he hadn't forgotten about the threat to his life represented by Badger Bob McGurk. The person sitting beside him was no crazy, murderous outlaw, however. Instead, she was a sweet-looking young woman with brunette curls peeking out from beneath her bonnet.

Longarm reached up and tugged on the brim of his Stetson. “Ma'am,” he said politely.

“Good evening to you, sir,” she replied. “I do so hope you are a gentleman.”

Longarm couldn't help but chuckle. “I try to be,” he said dryly.

“Excellent. A young lady traveling alone can't be too careful, you know.”

“So I've heard. My name's Custis Long.” Then, to ease her mind a little, he added, “I'm a U.S. deputy marshal.”

“A marshal!” the woman exclaimed. “Then I really
am
safe in my choice of traveling companions, aren't I?”

Some would have disagreed with that, thought Longarm. In fact, under the circumstances, being around him might not be that safe at all. Someone had tried to kill him a couple of times the night before, after all.

But he didn't say that to this young woman, just reminded her, “You haven't told me your name.”

“Oh, of course. I apologize for my rudeness. I'm Miss Toplin, Emily Toplin.”

Longarm touched the brim of his hat again. “Pleased to meet you, Miss Toplin.”

“Where are you bound, Marshal, if you don't mind my asking?”

Even in the shadows of the coach, which was lit only by a couple of lamps, Longarm could tell that her eyes were a luminous blue. “Don't mind at all, ma'am,” he said. “I'm going down to Raton. What about you?”

“I'm going to Santa Fe.” She paused, then added, “To join my fiancé.”

“Oh,” said Longarm.

Well, he hadn't really figured on making any advances to her anyway, he told himself. She was about as wholesome as a week-old pup, and while he knew from experience that such innocent exteriors sometimes hid downright lustful interiors, he figured that wasn't the case here. Besides, he was only going to be on the train for about twelve hours.

“Is your trip to Raton for business or pleasure, Marshal?” she asked. “Are you going down there to arrest some desperado?”

“Nope,” Longarm replied with a grin. “I don't plan on arresting nobody.”

“Then you're traveling for pleasure.”

“I hope so,” he said. It would be a pleasure to locate Nora Canady and find out what this whole affair was all about, he thought.

Miss Emily Toplin was the talkative sort, Longarm discovered. She chattered on as the train rolled southward, requiring little from him other than an occasional muttered comment to show that he was still listening. After a while, though, she wound down and started yawning.

“I wish I could have gotten a sleeping berth,” she said. “I'm not sure I can sleep sitting up like this.”

“It's an acquired skill,” Longarm told her as he leaned back and tipped his hat down over his eyes. “Luckily, I've had a lot of practice at it.”

He had hoped his gesture would quiet her down, and sure enough, it did. In fact, she dozed off before he did, and as the train swung around a bend, she slid toward him, her head coming to rest against his shoulder as she snuggled next to him.

Longarm sighed. Looked like he was going to sleep with this gal after all ... just not quite the way he had first thought.

While he waited to fall asleep, he mulled over the case that had brought him here. He had realized that in concentrating on how Nora Canady could have disappeared and where she might have gone, he had neglected to think much about what he would do once he found her. Her father and Senator Palmer would be expecting him to bring her back to Denver. Billy Vail seemed to have taken that for granted too.

But ducking out just before a wedding was no crime, and neither was running away from home. What he had told Emily Toplin was the truth: He didn't expect to arrest anybody in Raton, even if he found Nora there.

Maybe she'd had a good reason for leaving Denver. Bryce Canady hadn't struck Longarm as a brutal man, but who knows what went on behind closed doors? The same was true of Jonas Palmer. Just because he was a senator with a good reputation didn't mean he wasn't a gold-plated son of a bitch in private. If any of that speculation turned out to be true, how could Longarm, in all good conscience, force Nora to go back to Denver?

The answer was simple. He couldn't.

He sighed. Further along he'd know more about it, as the old hymn went. Until then, he would just do the job he had been given, which was to find Nora Canady.

Emily Toplin shifted slightly, and so did Longarm, thinking that the young woman was uncomfortable. Something tugged at his coat. He heard a soft noise.

He looked down and saw the small, sharp knife blade that had cut right through his coat and pinned the material to the wooden seat back.

A yell of surprise was jolted out of him by the realization that Emily had just tried to kill him. She exploded into motion, demonstrating clearly that she hadn't been asleep at all, only shamming. The heel of her left hand cracked against Longarm's jaw, jerking his head back. Emily's other hand dove into her reticule and came out with a little pistol.

Longarm lunged, trying to grab her wrist before she could fire, but the way his coat was stuck to the seat by the knife hampered his movements. He managed to bat the gun to the side as she pulled the trigger. The pistol gave a wicked little crack, and the bullet whipped past Longarm's head and smacked through the window beside him.

By now the struggle and the gunshot had attracted a lot of attention from the other occupants of the crowded coach. Emily screamed, “Help me! Someone help me!” as she tried to bring the gun to bear on Longarm again.

He ripped his coat loose and grabbed her wrist, forcing the gun toward the floor. Emily screeched like he was killing her. “He's a monster!” she howled. “He tried to molest me!”