by Evans, Tabor
Longarm shook his head. “No. Matter o’ fact, what I’m here for is transportation. I need t’ get up to Miles City. Would Fremont offer somethin’ going in that direction?”
“Easy enough done, Marshal. Our next coach north will leave at three tomorrow morning.”
Longarm visibly winced. Delancey laughed and said, “I know. It isn’t exactly convenient, is it. Will you be traveling with us?”
“I will.”
“I’ll make sure you have a seat.” He laughed again and added, “Inside, so you can lean against something and go to sleep. No ticket necessary, of course.”
“Thanks. Will I see you there tomorra morning when the damn thing loads?”
“Me?” Delancey feigned a look of shock. “Not me, Marshal. I intend to be sound asleep at that hour. But I might think about you tomorrow morning. Say, when I’m relaxing in my easy chair and enjoying that second cup of coffee.”
“Thanks a lot,” Longarm said drily.
“Can I check your bag on to Miles City then?” Delancey offered.
“That’d be good. Thanks.”
Longarm wandered outside the Fremont Stage Company office and paused to light a cheroot. He really did not think there was much more he needed to do here in Cheyenne. And before he went up to Deadwood or to Lead he wanted to talk with that gent at the Bastrop line. Tyler, Delancey had said his name was. Harold Tyler? No, Hal. That was it. Hal Tyler. And he, too, was suffering losses from his shipments.
Coin headed to the same outfit in Deadwood? The content of those shipments and where they were consigned was one of the things he needed to learn.
Puffing on his cheroot, he ambled down the street and stepped inside the first storefront he came to that offered a whiff of beer and sawdust drifting out of the open doorway along with the sounds of friendly chatter and the clack of billiard balls.
“Mother, I’m home,” he muttered under his breath as he pushed the batwings aside and entered the saloon.
Chapter 12
Longarm arrived in Miles City hot, weary, and covered with enough dust that he was fairly sure he could make a good crop if he planted potatoes in his crotch and armpits. He gave serious consideration to throwing himself, clothes and all, into the Yellowstone.
Instead he checked into the Debois Arms hotel and asked that a tub and hot water be brought up to his room. The request did not especially please the bellboy who would have to carry the water up two flights of stairs to reach him, but Longarm thought that was just too damn bad.
“An’ I’ll be wanting directions to a laundry and dry cleaners when I come back down.”
“We can do the washing here, of course,” the desk clerk said, “and Jimmy can take your dry cleaning. There is a Chinaman a block over who does a fine job. We always use him when a guest needs such service.”
Longarm nodded and removed his tweed coat. “This is what I need cleaned with chemicals. Everything else can be washed, I reckon.” He unloaded the pockets of the coat and handed it across the counter.
The clerk’s nose wrinkled a bit in distaste, but he accepted the coat and, holding it with two fingers, laid it onto a chair. “We’ll take care of it,” he said.
“I’ll pay for that separate,” Longarm said. “I don’t wanta put my personal stuff on the government voucher.”
“Voucher? You didn’t mention anything about a voucher, the clerk said, frowning.
“Gov’ment,” Longarm said. “I’m a deputy marshal.”
“Oh. I, uh, don’t know if I can accept a voucher for payment. I have to talk with the owner about it.”
Longarm smiled but with not the slightest hint of mirth or friendliness in the expression. “You can accept this one. Trust me ’bout that.”
The desk clerk wilted under Longarm’s gaze. “Yes, sir. But is it all right if I at least tell the owner?”
“Tell whoever you damn please but give me a room. An’ that tub and hot water.”
“Yes, sir.”
Longarm trudged up the two flights of stairs to the top floor of the Debois, carrying his own carpetbag since Jimmy was occupied with the tweed coat, and found room number twelve right where the clerk had said it would be.
Longarm yawned his way into the room and looked for a place to sit down. There was no chair in the dingy little room and, filthy as he was, he did not want to sit on the clean bed. He settled for stripping off his clothes and sitting on the bottom end of the feather bed.
The bellhop was supposed to be on his way up with the tub and water so he did not want to go to sleep. He settled for cleaning his firearms, the Colt first. While the .45 was incapacitated with its component parts scattered onto the bedside table he placed the .41-caliber derringer where he could reach it.
He could not imagine there being a threat here in this hotel, but it would not be sensible to ignore the cautious habits of many years.
He was using a toothpick to drag the caked dust off the cylinder pawl when he heard a knock behind him.
“Come in,” he said, concentrating on what he was doing. “Put the tub down over there an’ get on with fetching the water, if you please.”
He heard a laugh. A rather light and delicate laugh. And a decidedly female voice said, “I’m sorry. I don’t have a tub with me.”
Longarm stood and turned around before he remembered that he was naked.
Chapter 13
It was too late to do anything about his condition so he brazened it out, calmly setting the revolver frame down and leaning down to retrieve the balbriggans that he had dropped on top of the rest of his clothing. He picked up the soiled undergarment and held it strategically in front of his crotch.
He grinned and shrugged, then asked, “An’ what can I do for you, ma’am?”
The lady stopped laughing long enough to say, “I came up here with one thing in mind but now that I see…” She cleared her throat and said, “I’m trying to remember what I wanted.” She looked down toward Longarm’s crotch again and rolled her eyes.
Mighty pretty eyes they were, he thought, as was the rest of her. She was blond with her hair done up in a tight, no-nonsense bun. She was short, probably not much more than five feet tall, and was so tightly laced into her corset that he could not guess at her figure. Her face, however, was more than pleasant to look at.
He guessed her age to be somewhere in her mid to late thirties.
“Oh, yes,” she said. “Louis said you wanted to see me.”
“I did?” Longarm said.
“That is what he told me. Something about taking a voucher to pay for the room?”
“Ah,” he said. “That.” He considered pulling on some clothes. But in order to do that he would have to drop the balbriggans and expose himself to her again, this time deliberately.
“You are a marshal?” she said.
“Deputy,” he agreed. “Out o’ Denver.”
She giggled. “Do you always entertain ladies in this state of, um, dress?”
“When they’re naked, too, I do,” Longarm said.
That brought a laugh out of her. She started to say something but before she could get it out the bellboy arrived, finally, with the tub and a bucket of hot water.
“I have more water on the way, um, ah,” he mumbled, glancing back and forth from his prim and proper boss to the naked guest and back again.
“Go get the rest of the water, Jimmy,” the lady said.
“Yes, ma’am.” Jimmy sounded grateful for a reason to flee. He turned and hustled out.
“Perhaps you need someone to pour the water and scrub your back,” the lady said.
“Per’aps I do,” Longarm agreed. “Know anyone who might apply for the job?”
“I just might.”
“You realize that will purely scandalize poor Jimmy,” Longarm said.
“If you have what I think I saw before you snatched up those underthings, I won’t much care,” the lady said.
“Are you getting fresh with me?” Longarm teased,
“Well, in that case all right. I reckon I could hire you on.” He let the balbriggans fall away to his side, holding them with only one hand.
“Goodness,” the woman said, licking her lips.
Longarm heard Jimmy on the stairs so he again covered himself.
The bellboy grunted and mumbled as he dragged the copper tub into the room and set the three buckets of steaming hot water beside it. “Is there anything else, ma’am?”
“No, Jimmy, that should be everything.”
“Do you want me to, um…?”
“No, Jimmy, you can leave now.”
“Yes, ma’am.” The young fellow turned and fled.
The lady stepped over to the door, closed it, and slid the bolt in place to lock it.
She was smiling when she turned back around.
Longarm tossed the balbriggans down on top of the rest of his soiled clothing.
Chapter 14
“Do you splash when you bathe?”
“Pardon me?” Longarm was confused by the question.
The lady smiled. “I am concerned that you might splash water on these clothes.”
“Ah, yes. I just might splash you at that,” Longarm agreed.
“It might be wise to remove them,” she said. “Just in case.”
“Very wise,” he said.
She was still smiling when she began—very slowly—to remove her clothing, one piece at a time.
Her smile became even more broad when she saw Longarm’s reaction. The taller his cock rose the broader her smile became.
She came closer and the smile disappeared. “You smell bad. Did you know that?”
“As I recall, ma’am, it’s the reason I’m gonna take a bath.” He grinned. “You were hired t’ do a job, remember.”
Her good humor returned. “Then step into the tub, sir, and let’s get you clean. Then we can, um, consider other things.”
“As you wish.” He got into the copper tub and hunkered down while the owner of the hotel poured hot water over him. When she emptied the first bucket she took a handful of soft soap and began to scrub him. She paid particular attention to his crotch, he noticed.
Not that he minded. Her touch was firm and more than pleasant, to the point that he damn near came when she washed his cock.
She also, he noticed, paid a great deal of attention to the crack of his ass. He could not help but wonder why.
When the lady was satisfied that he was thoroughly soaped and scrubbed she picked up another bucket of water and sluiced that over him. Once that bucket was empty she went to the third, soaked a washrag in that bucket and proceeded to finish rinsing him. With great, tender care. By the time she was done with that final process it was a wonder he did not squirt jism into her face when she leaned over him.
Smiling again she told him, “Stand up, please.” She peeled his foreskin back, knelt, and took him into her mouth. That moist heat was more than he could ignore. He exploded into her mouth almost immediately.
“Good,” she said, wiping her chin where a little of his juice had dribbled. “We got that out of the way. Now you should have a little staying power when you shove that beautiful thing into me.”
And saying that, she took him by the balls and led him to the bed.
Led around by the…under the circumstances Longarm was willing to go along with the bossy broad.
Chapter 15
Longarm put his hand behind his head and lay back on the soft bed, the bossy lady asleep at his side. The woman was one hell of a wild ride, pumping as hard as he did or maybe more, time after time after…Yeah. A wild ride indeed.
He rolled onto his side and reached for a cheroot and match. He lighted the slim cigar and peered up toward the ceiling although not consciously seeing it.
“Let me have a drag on that,” the lady said, waking but remaining completely still.
“You want a drag o’ this smoke. Or of my cock?” he teased.
“Darlin’, I’m too tired and sore right now to take any more of what you have. As it is it should be another four or five days before I feel right again.”
“Look, if you’re complaining…”
“Not that, dear. Never that. I just wish I had the stamina to go at it again with you.” She sighed and sat up on the side of the bed. “Now, damnit, I have to get back to work. I have a hotel to run, after all, and you wouldn’t believe the foolishness employees can get into if you don’t watch them every second.”
Longarm sat up, too, and eyed the now-cold water in the copper tub. He was sweaty enough that another wash would be in order. On the other hand he was tired enough that it could just wait until tomorrow. He smiled. Wouldn’t Jimmy just love to carry more water for him?
The woman dressed quickly, bent to give him a quick kiss, and was gone, pulling the door closed behind her.
It occurred to Longarm that he had no idea what her name might be. Didn’t all that much care, really. What he knew about her was that she gave a great fuck. What more did a man really need to know about a woman beyond that?
He felt of the water in the tub—cold, as he expected—but drenched a washrag anyway and wiped himself off with it, then dressed in clean clothing from the carpetbag. He finished cleaning and assembling the .45 and cleaned the derringer next, although it had been in his pocket protected from the dust and really did not need much attention.
Finally he stamped into his boots, grabbed his Stetson, and went downstairs in search of supper. Funny how he had worked up such an appetite.
Chapter 16
After all that healthy exercise Longarm was in the mood for something more substantial than a greasy-spoon meal so he walked past two seedy cafés until he found a proper restaurant. The place had curtains at the windows. More important, the smells drifting through the open doorway got his mouth to watering and his belly to rumbling. He headed inside and even removed his Stetson, something he did not always do.
“Sit wherever you like,” a tall, cadaverously thin man greeted him. The fellow was wearing an apron and held a towel in one hand and a printed menu in the other.
Longarm chose a table that put his back to the wall and gave him a view of the front door. He was not expecting trouble. But then trouble comes at its own pace, whether a man is ready for it or not; it is best to stay ready for it, Longarm had found.
“We’re out of the baked chicken,” the waiter said, handing him the menu. “Otherwise you can order whatever you see there.”
Longarm barely glanced at the menu. “Roast buff’lo hump,” he said, “with the mashed taters an’ gravy. Peas.” He paused. “An’ a big slab o’ apple pie t’ pack it all down.”
“Very good, sir.” The waiter retrieved the menu and disappeared into the back of the place. He returned almost instantly with a carafe and poured Longarm a cup of steaming hot coffee. The aroma coming off the cup was tantalizing.
He picked the cup up and was about to dip his mustache into the richly black fluid when a lady on the other side of the room cried out. Longarm looked up in time to see the gentleman with her reach out and grab her by the arm, taking a firm hold and twisting her arm cruelly.
The woman was a plump matron, nicely dressed. Her companion was middle-aged and burly, wearing a tweed suit and string tie. The fellow had red hair and was beginning to go bald, a palm-sized patch of bare skin appearing on the back of his head.
“Please, Daniel,” she pleaded. “Don’t.”
Daniel leaned forward and growled something that Longarm could not hear. Then he slapped the lady. Hard.
Longarm was out of his chair before he consciously realized it. He took three long strides and ended up standing over the pair.
The big man looked up, his face red with fury. “What the fuck do you want, mister? Butt out. This ain’t any of your business.”
“You’re right,” Longarm said.
Then slapped the son of a bitch. Hard.
; The man’s head was driven to the side. Hard.
His neck swelled up like a bull buffalo’s and he came out of his chair. Hard.
Longarm’s right fist met the charge. Hard.
The man screamed. More with rage and anger than in pain.
Longarm hit him again, this time in the belly.
The big man doubled over and sagged to a knee. He stayed there for only a moment, then straightened with a roar and again tried to put Longarm down.
His effort was thwarted by a combination of punches as Longarm flashed a combination of lefts and rights that tattooed the man’s nose and jaw, splitting his upper lip and smashing his nose flat.
Blood sprayed onto the white tablecloth and the man staggered. Longarm hit him again. And twice more. He went down again, this time onto both knees. And this time he stayed down, his head drooping, blood dripping from nose and mouth.
“I’ll have…the law…on you…you son of a…bitch,” he breathed, his voice hollow because of the blood that blocked his nose.
“You do that,” Longarm snarled. He turned toward the lady.
Who slapped him across the face. Hard.
“Wha…?”
“Leave my husband alone, you big ape,” she yelled.
The woman threw herself down beside her kneeling, reeling husband and cradled his bloody head in her arms. “What did that man do to you, sweetie?” she crooned. “Are you all right? Don’t worry, dearest. I’ll take care of you. It will be just fine now.” She rocked him back and forth like a little baby.
Longarm shook his head in amazement, then turned and went back to his own table, marveling at human foolishness.
“Are you ready for your supper now, sir?” the waiter asked, unperturbed by the outburst in his dining room.
“I am,” Longarm said as he once again slipped in behind the table and sat surveying the room.
Chapter 17
“There, Donald. That’s him.” It was the big man, back again, this time with his face washed clean—come tomorrow morning it would be swollen and discolored—and with another man beside him. He was pointing an accusing finger at Longarm. There was no sign of the abused wife.
