Free Longarm and the Unwritten Law by Tabor Evans Page B

acting ornery too. No offense, but to tell it true, I'm more concerned about lawmen abusing their authority than a fool cowhand abusing livestock."
    They could see the river ahead of them now, with the dust from that trail herd hanging mustard yellow just above the far shore, as she said, "I told you back in town I had to get Chief Quanah's version before I decided who's behind it all. Our informant only told me big money has been changing hands, with somebody being paid a lot to look the other way. I'm sure we'll find out that the tribal leaders are innocent dupes of some crooked white men, of course."
    Longarm rose in his stirrups to stare thoughtfully up the trail ahead and say, "I can't tell why from here, but that herd out in front of us seems to be milling in place on the far bank of that regular crossing. It's been dry a spell and the water ought to be low enough up the river a ways. Do you know for a fact that white men have been leading some Indians astray, or might you share the opinion of so many that Mister Lo is simpleminded as well as poor?"
    As she followed him off the beaten path at an angle, Godiva Weaver protested, "My paper and I have always shown the greatest sympathy for the poor Indians, Deputy Long. We know the poor Comanche only wanted to lead peaceful lives in communion with the natural world, until selfish white men drove them to acts of desperation."
    Longarm snorted in disgust and said, "That may be sympathy, but it sure ain't much respect. The Comanche up ahead learned to ride a generation ahead of most other Horse Indians by watching the early Spanish do so, helping themselves to some horses, and teaching themselves to ride better. In no time at all they were the terror of the Staked Plains, and pound for pound they've killed off more of the rest of us, red or white, than all the other Horse Indians combined. They'd be mighty hurt to be dismissed as posey-picking poets back in the days they still recall as their Shining Times."
    He made for the silvery surface of the Red River, more clearly visible through the streamside cottonwood and willows now, as the newspaper gal said, "Everyone knows they were great warriors if forced to fight."
    To which Longarm could only reply with a laugh, "Nobody ever had to force a Comanche, a Kiowa, an Arapaho, or South Cheyenne to fight down this way. All the plains nations, and the Comanche in particular, gloried in blood, slaughter, and horse thievery. I know they were more in the right than usual when they rose up against the buffalo hunters a few summers ago. The Indians had been cut down enough by cannon fire to go along with Washington on West Texas hunting grounds no bigger than a state or so back East. So those greedy hunters should have left them and what was left of the south herd alone. But the Indians could have saved themselves a heap of casualties in the end if they'd dealt with the trespassers less gruesomely."
    He waved his free hand expansively to the north and added, "So that's why we've set up Indian Police wherever the Indians are halfways willing to enforce the B.I.A. regulations more constitutionally. It costs way less salary and resentment to swear in tribal members as uniformed federal lawmen than it might to post white military police at every agency. I've been asked to see just how well they've done so up around Fort Sill. You were saying they ain't been doing it so well?"
    She nodded primly and replied, "We were tipped off to brazen bribe demands by the Comanche Police. Apparently they can be paid to look the other way no matter what a white crook wants to do on Indian land, if the price is right. Or contrariwise, they might arrest you for singing improperly, just to shake you down!"
    They were closer to the river now. Longarm pointed at the water just ahead and observed, "The river runs too deep for our fording yonder. Let's ease upstream a ways. Indian Police don't have authority to arrest white men. They can prevent a felony in progress