Longarm and the Shoshoni silver

Longarm broke cover to throw down on the four of them from the hip, levering a round into the chamber to let them know he was a force to be reckoned with as he said conversationally, "Pappy is right, gents. I can almost see the whites of your fucking eyes. So raise them fucking hands and raise 'em wow!"

Two Agency teamsters did. McBride tried to swing the muzzle of his own saddle gun in line while Duke Pearson simply bolted, bleating like a sheep, so Longarm blew McBride off his feet before he swung the smoking muzzle of his Winchester the other way to nail the bolting breed in the small of his back. You could tell it was a shithouse-lucky spine-shot by the way his hat soared skyward while he landed on his face in an oddly graceful swan dive.

Longarm swung his muzzle back to cover the remaining members of the plot. He saw he'd done right and fired again, folding the one who'd dropped his hands, his six-gun still bolstered as his numbed right hand let go of the grips. As he finished falling to the soggy duff, the only one still on his feet clawed wildly at the moon above them, sobbing, "Please don't do me, Longarm! I was only working for 'em. I swear I never done nothing really bad to nobody!"

Longarm told him to unbuckle his gun rig and step clear of the results as he moved in on the fallen McBride, Winchester trained. McBride was sort of writhing about, like an earthworm caught by a sunrise on a brick walk. So Longarm asked not unkindly, "How are you feeling. Pappy?"

The treacherous Indian agent groaned, "Awful. Who told on us, you sly rascal? I knew from the beginning you were

good, but this seems plain ridiculous!"

Longarm heard other voices calling out in the dark and yelled back, "Over this way, gents. Watch out you don't spook any pack mules you may stumble over. I just caught me some silver thieves and a heap of answers here!"

McBride croaked, "No shit, I need a doc. I fear you've killed me, you fucker!"

To which Lx)ngarm replied in an amiable tone, "I was aiming to kill you when I shot you. It seemed only fair, considering."

Then he turned to the one unscathed survivor, adding, "I reckon you'll be able to tie up all the loose ends for us. Westmore, ain't it?"

"Don't tell him shit!" McBride croaked from the ground as they were joined by old Rumford, young Jeffries, and the others. So Longarm said, "I wish you'd just shut up and die. Pappy. Westmore here has to tell us everything he knows because he doesn't want to hang. Ain't that right, Westmore?"

The younger teamster stammered, "Hang? For what? Every time we tried to kill you one of us wound up dead, but all right, I may as well tell you all I know, you murderous cuss!"

Chapter 13

Westmore did, more than once, with two congressmen and a mess of more honest riders to bear witness. But as was so often the case, the simple enough plot of a corrupt Indian agent and his not-too-bright recruits only formed one gear wheel of what seemed more like a cuckoo clock when you really studied on it.

Westmore confessed, after all his pals had finished dying, that he'd been part of a vicious but uncomplicated plan to make off with all those untraceable silver dollars. Westmore said the brains of the gang, if one wanted to call him that, had been Tim McBride, known as Pappy to his junior crooks. Making off with the Shoshoni silver had occurred to McBride as soon as he'd been asked by the B.I. A. to escort the congressmen and act as their translator. McBride, in turn, had recruited Duke Pearson, who could actually speak Ho. The B.I.A. was always taking some flea-brain's word that he was a real expert with Indians, Longarm thought.

The lesser thugs, recruited as easily in turn, had included boys lying in wait for Longarm as well as those fake scouts who'd been out to make sure he never joined up with the expedition.

When Senator Rumford wanted to know why, Westmore stared sadly at Longarm to reply, "Jesus H. Christ, what a

dumb question! Pappy knew Longarm here would be harder to outfox than all the rest of you put together. Didn't he just prove that? Don't the Utes call him by pet names because he busted up an Indian Ring that had half the Indians and all of the whites fooled? Pappy had worked under gents of the Grant Administration Longarm and others like him had put in jail. When he heard the B.I.A. had fucked him up by asking for a man the Indians trusted even more, he knew he had to get rid of Longarm or let the damned Shoshoni have their damned silver!"

Longarm warned, "You're talking in circles. I know how Pearson scared off those other Ho-speaking scouts, talking Ho to 'em behind some backs. Get to those smoke signals and the dead woman I found so close to that medicine wheel."

Westmore seemed sincerely confused as he insisted, "Not a one of us knew shit about any of that stuff. I swear none of us killed any old white gal. I was riding next to Duke when he first spied them smoke signals. He was surprised as the rest of us. I don't think Pappy knew anything about 'em neither!"