“Well, sure you do, MacLeod. But let’s get out of here alive first.”

  Some more boulders and shattered mining timbers slid down the pile. Then Herc Romero grinned down at them through a hole near the overhead and said, “There you go, boys. Just let me widen this a mite and you can crawl up over the shit.”

  As the burly Italian crowbarred a slab of rock aside he observed, “The way I put it together, someone put a box of dynamite in an ore car, lit the fuse, and sent it down the tracks at you. Lucky for you, MacLeod, you run a shoestring operation here. The car jumped your crooked old tracks a third of the way down, hung up on a pit prop, and went off up the slope. If it had made it to the bottom the way it did when they killed Vallejo, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

  MacLeod suddenly scrambled up the slope and shoved past Romero. Baxter turned to Longarm and sniffed, “I’d say you owe me an apology, sir. As you see, it was certainly an attempt to murder all three of us!”

  Longarm coughed some rock dust out of his lungs, and said, “No, Baxter, just two of us—me and MacLeod. I don’t think they cared about you, one way or the other. Let’s get out and study on these interesting new developments.”

  * * *

  Felicidad was waiting at the top of the tunnel. She sobbed as she threw herself in Longarm’s arms. He hung on to her long enough to kiss her and comfort her a bit. But his mind was preoccupied and he untangled himself as soon as it seemed polite to do so.

  The whole town seemed to be gathered around. Some fool was shooting a pistol off in the air as if it were the Fourth of July instead of the middle of August. All the mysterious doings of late had made the whole community skittish, but they’d somehow gotten a load of ore past the high-graders and now, when they saw that the murder attempt had gone sour, they were feeling good. Not a man in the valley had any idea who the high-graders were, or how they’d done their magic, but the spell was broken. The skunks didn’t win every time, after all.

  As Longarm untangled himself from Felicidad, Constable Lovejoy caught his sleeve. “God damn it, Longarm, for a man who thinks he’s so all-fired smart, that was a dumb play you just made. Didn’t you know the chance you were giving ’em by going down in that fool mine with nobody up here on guard?”

  Longarm said, “If I had, I wouldn’t have gone down there. Let go of my arm; I’ve got chores to attend to.”

  He elbowed his way through the crowd to MacLeod’s cabin. He noticed that Felicidad was trotting after him, so he held the door open for her and let her come in with him. Baxter and MacLeod were already inside.

  The young mine owner was seated at his kitchen table, signing papers as Baxter stood over him, not bothering not to gloat. MacLeod saw Longarm and the girl and said wearily, “I’m cashing in my chips. I’m whipped. You haven’t seen my wife, have you?”

  Longarm shook his head and said, “No. She must’ve gotten scared and run off. Your buckboard was out front when we rode in before. It ain’t there now.”

  MacLeod said, “They must have kidnapped her. Baxter is paying us a lot for the claim. So if they ask for ransom, I’ll have two million to pay them.”

  Longarm whistled and said, “You must want her back a lot.”

  “She’s my wife, you idiot!”

  Longarm nodded and said, “I doubt she’s with the rascal who’s been funning us. Kidnapping ain’t his style.”

  Baxter snorted and observed, “Longarm, you don’t know who it is or what his style might be! You keep looking smug and acting like you know so much, but he’s been making a fool of you from the beginning. How do you know it’s a he, in fact? I’d say it’s more like a they!”

  Longarm explained, “There can’t be more than one or two people involved. I’ve been shot at and dynamited, and those other boys were poisoned, but that’s not the way a gang works. I’d say it’s a small operation. As to desperadoes holding a mine owner’s wife for ransom, it’s a mite late in the game for that, ain’t it? If they intended to play that way, why didn’t they just start out by kidnapping Lottie and making MacLeod hand over his gold, instead of playing all those foxy grandpa tricks?”

  MacLeod said angrily, “Will the two of you shut up and let me sign these infernal deeds? Whatever’s happened, my wife is missing and I have to find her!”

  Longarm said, “You got a check from the refinery in Sacramento earlier today. Do you have it on you?”

  MacLeod looked surprised. He got up from the table and rushed over to a green tin box on the kitchen counter. He opened it and swore.

  Longarm said, “There you go. She’s likely on her way to the Crocker bank in Sacramento to cash her own chips in. You’re supposed to be dead at the bottom of the mine.”

  As MacLeod gaped at him in horror, Felicidad gasped, “Querido, what are you suggesting?”

  Longarm finally lit the cheroot he’d been holding in his teeth, and said, “Ain’t suggesting—saying. Lottie’s a pretty little gal with her best years ahead of her. She’s probably found living up here in this shack tedious as hell, but she knew sooner or later they’d sell out and she could be living higher on the hog, with someone else to do the laundry and rustle up the grub.”

  Baxter looked thunderstruck as he asked, “Do you mean Lottie MacLeod sent that car filled with dynamite down the shaft at us?”

  “Hell, it wasn’t filled. Romero said it was only a box. Tonight you told her you were willing to give them two million dollars for this claim, but MacLeod here was being stubborn about the sale. I reckon that riled her some.”

  MacLeod said, “I don’t believe you! We’ve been married four years!”

  “Longarm’s voice was sympathetic as he answered, “You believe me; you just don’t want to say you do. I’m as sentimental as the next gent, but if I was a lady, I’d have to like someone an awful lot to go on washing socks for him with two million dollars hanging over me and him acting like he enjoyed the rustic life.”

  MacLeod stared at him in sick horror as Baxter asked, “Have you forgotten I was down there with the two of you? I could hardly sign a bank draft for any amount if I was dead, you know.”

  Longarm said, “I know. But some other jasper could have. You ain’t buying the mine personally, Baxter; you’re only working for an Eastern syndicate. Lottie never tried to wipe those rascals out—just her husband. The two of them have a joint account at the Crocker Trust, so she has enough to live on from the ore sale till they send your replacement out with the two million for her mine. She figures it’s her mine now. Herc Romero wasn’t supposed to find us alive.”

  Felicidad asked, “What are you waiting for, then, querido? Why are you not chasing the murderess?”

  The deputy arched an eyebrow at her. “Forty miles in the dark, chasing a lady who’s good at killing? It was her who killed Tico Vallejo and those other two, you know.”

  MacLeod sputtered, “You can’t prove that!”

  Longarm nodded and said, “It might be hard to prove in front of a jury, but she did it. It had to be her. You were in Sacramento. She mixed some of your assay chemicals in wine and gave it to them. Then, with them out of the way, she just rolled that car down at us. It missed Romero and me, but . . .”

  Baxter said, “The poor woman must be mad! Are you suggesting that she was behind the high-grading of her own husband’s mine?”

  Longarm took a long drag on his cheroot, and exhaled a billowing cloud of blue smoke.

  “Nope. She just helped out by killing folks who came too close to figuring out the game.”

  “Then you are saying she was in on it?” Baxter pressed.

  “There had to be somebody watching this end of the operation. None of the Mexicans working here knew much about mining, but Vallejo was bright and learning, so he had to go.”

  MacLeod asked, “Have you forgotten they killed Lottie’s dog that afternoon?”

  The marshal regarded the glowing tip of his cigar as he said patiently, “She did that herself to draw suspicion away from her. She had no alibi to speak of, but who suspects a pretty little gal who’s all cut up about her poor dog, Rex?”

  MacLeod said incredulously, “I don’t believe a word you’re saying. If you thought for a minute that Lottie had done half the things you say, then Señorita Vallejo’s right. You’d be after her this minute.”

  “Oh, I’ll use Lovejoy’s line to Sacramento in a few minutes to call the marshal down that way. They’ve been peeved at me for sticking my nose into their jurisdiction, anyway. I’ll have them pick her up when the bank opens tomorrow morning. It’ll make them feel good to be in on the capture.”

  MacLeod scribbled hastily on the last paper and stood up again, holding it out to Baxter, as he said, “All right. Give me the bank draft. I haven’t got time to listen to this maniac! I have to find out where my wife is!”

  To his credit, Baxter wasn’t a complete fool. He looked quizzically at Longarm, who nodded and said, “Sure, give the man his money. That’s what you came all the way out here to do.”

  Baxter bent over and endorsed the bank draft, muttering, “For a moment I expected you to accuse him of murder!”

  Longarm smiled crookedly, and said, “Nope. He’s got enough on his plate with one murderer in the family.”

  Baxter handed MacLeod the draft and the miner stuffed it in his shirt pocket, hardly looking at it, then stepped over to his gunbelt hanging from a peg on the wall, strapped the revolver on, and headed for the door.

  Felicidad asked Longarm, “Aren’t you going with him to help look for her?”

  Longarm shook his head, walked over to the stove, and picked up the coffeepot. He got three cups from the china cabinet, came back to the table, and poured coffee for Baxter, Felicidad, and himself, saying, “We might as well set a spell. I want to give him a good lead. He took a shot at me the other day, and he shoots tolerably well.”

  The other two gaped wide-eyed at him, ignoring the coffee as Longarm pulled up a chair and sat down. He said, “Come on, nobody’s going to fuss at us for helping ourselves. Neither of them ever intend to come back here to this cabin.”

  Baxter sank down into a chair, obviously puzzled, and asked, “Just what in God’s name is going on around here?”

  Longarm took a sip of his coffee before answering, “He’s likely going to kill her when he catches up with her. She wasn’t supposed to double-cross him like that. In all modesty, I played a right neat trick on the two of them. They call it misdirection in the magic book I was reading over at the county seat.”

  Felicidad stared in horror at him as she asked, “You want him to kill his wife?”

  Longarm said amiably, “Sure. I’d never in a million years get a jury to believe she was guilty. I’d have a hard row to hoe proving it was MacLeod who played all those games with the ore, too. This way I figure to get two birds with one stone. He’s too blamed mad at her to think straight, and I’ll sure as hell prove he shot his wife. I just have to give the rascal time, is all.”

  Baxter exploded, “The hell with his damned wife! You just said MacLeod was behind the high-grading, but damn it, it was his ore they were stealing!”

  “Hell,” Longarm said, “there never was any ore to steal. The Lost Chinaman was played out years ago. MacLeod and Lottie bought it for a song, aiming to sell it to some pilgrim like yourself.”

  “That’s impossible! Have you forgotten that I assayed the ore personally? You had me check it out the day you rode down the mountain on it with MacLeod.”

  “Yep, and when we got to the mill, it was worthless. That was even more impossible. I don’t believe in spooks and my fool rump was holding the stuff down all the way to the mill. So somebody had to be a liar. I figured for a while it might be you, but there was just no way to make you fit. A man doesn’t salt a mine to buy it. He salts a worthless mine to sell it.”

  He saw the stricken look on Baxter’s face and said soothingly, “Don’t feel so bad. They fooled Herc Romero too, and he’s an experienced hard-rock miner. MacLeod was too slick just to blast gold birdshot into the rock. He dissolved maybe a hundred dollars’ worth in aqua regia, then let it soak into the rock face and some sample lumps he left about for snoopy folks to pocket. Did you notice, when we were down in the mine before, that they weren’t working that face at all? He had his greenhorn Mexican help digging pure quartz in the other tunnel!”

  Baxter shook his head in confusion. “Never mind the mine itself. Damn it, we took random samples from two whole cars of what you claim was worthless rock. I tested them with my own aqua regia. You saw the gold that settled out.”

  “Sure I did. That was pretty slick on their part. You see, they switched bottles on you. There are a dozen ways they could have worked it, since all those little brown bottles look the same. Either one of them only needed a moment to open your kit while you weren’t looking and . . . hell, you’re a bright lad. Explain it yourself to the señorita here.”

  Baxter’s mouth was hanging open as though he were trying to catch flies, so Longarm told Felicidad, “Gold dissolves in aqua regia. It stays dissolved and invisible till you neutralize the acid with alkali. Then the gold settles out, no matter what else you may have put in the test tube. I read that in a book.”

  Baxter’s face brightened as his confusion cleared. “Yes, by God, I can see how that would work! If my acid was contaminated with gold, it would assay almost anything as gold-bearing ore!”

  Longarm said, “I know. I got a drop on my hat, and when it dried, I had a medium-high-grade Stetson. That was me who busted up your room, by the way. We call it misdirection, among us magicians. I found out about the gold in your acid when the bottle busted on me.”

  “Hah! I knew you were behind that mess! But you’re missing something. They got through with two whole carloads of real ore, the last time!”

  The deputy smiled slyly. “No, they never did. That was misdirection, too. I asked the folks down at the mill to lie for me. They just told MacLeod he’d brought real ore this time. It must have surprised hell out of him. Did you notice that he was down there looking for a vein he hadn’t known he really had?”

  “But they paid him for the ore. Damn it, I just paid him, too! Oh, my God, if I just paid two million dollars for a salted mine . . .”

  “Now don’t go blubbering up on us, old son. The bank’s agreed not to cash either check. I had a talk with the president of the bank and he thought it was a right good way to trap the two of them.”

  Felicidad said, “I still can’t understand why she tried to murder her husband.”

  Longarm put down his cup, leaned back expansively, and said, “I figured I’d drive a wedge between them when I fooled MacLeod with the false assay at the mill. You can both see how hard it would be to prove any of this in court if they just stuck together. I was foolish to go down in the mine that way after seeing she was all riled that he was hesitating with their prize in sight. But I figured she’d argue with him some before she turned on him. Lottie was smarter than she let on. She must have figured I’d outfoxed them some way, and that he was playing into my hands. So, seeing she had us in a right convenient place, she just put a box of dynamite aboard a car, lit the fuse, and let her roll. She had no way of knowing we’d come out alive. She probably lit out before folks who might have heard the blast could ask pesky questions. She aims to hear the sad news in Sacramento, where she doubtless went to buy supplies or something. Her plan is to come back up, all sad-eyed, and sit tight until some other fool drops by with another bank draft.”

  Baxter said, “Ah, that’s why you’re sitting here so unconcerned! You expect her to return to the scene of the crime!”

  “Not hardly. When she hears about the cave-in, she’ll hear that the boys from Sheep Ranch dug us out, too. We’d best go out and take them down to the saloon, by the way. I’d say we owe those boys a drink.”

  Baxter looked at Longarm with newfound respect. “This time I’ll pay. I’ll even buy a drink for you, Longarm! But if you don’t expect them back, shouldn’t you be looking for them?”

  Longarm looked at Felicidad and grinned, saying, “Later. I’m in no hurry to ride. At least not before sunrise.”

  * * *

  Longarm made sweet love to Felicidad as the dawn light crept in on them through her bedroom window. But the woman was upset, knowing it was probably the last time they’d be together, even though Longarm lied and promised the way a gentleman was supposed to.

  He was feeling a mite wistful, too. Felicidad was pretty as a picture, in or out of her dress, and he’d been right about one thing: she was better in bed than the librarian in San Andreas. Pru was wilder, but Felicidad was sweeter and warmer. He knew he was going to miss her, and that some night when he was all alone, he was going to think back to this moment and cuss himself for being such a tumbleweed.

  Common sense told him a man was far better off with some sweet little gal waiting at home for him with his pipe and slippers, only Longarm didn’t smoke a pipe and he owned no slippers. He was a hard-driving lawman with a job to do, and such pleasures as life handed out to him had to be enjoyed on the fly.

  For the fifth or sixth time Felicidad pleaded, “Can’t I come back to Denver with you, querido? There is nothing to keep me here. I promise not to get in your way.”

  He fingered her pert brown nipple absently and soothed, “We’ll talk on it later. I have to ride down to Sacramento after the MacLeods in a few minutes, honey.”

  She sobbed, “You are never coming back this way. Your work here is finished!”

  “I don’t know,” he equivocated. “My office might want me to clear up a few loose ends. It doesn’t seem likely that anyone around here was in on that confidence game with them, but old Billy Vail might want me to make sure.”

  “Do you promise, then?”