Longarm 422 (13 page)

Donny Collins came running back, the left side of his face red and swelling, unspent tears glistening in the corners of his eyes, although he was trying to hold them back so as to not seem unmanly.

Collins jumped out from behind his desk and hurried to meet and comfort his son. “What the devil has happened, Donny? Who did this?”

“Mr. George, did it, Dad. I told him you wanted to see him right away, and he asked me why. He asked me who you were talking to and what they were saying. I didn't think there would be anything wrong with telling him. So I did. And he got m-mad and he h-hit me. Hard.”

The unshed tears flowed then. The kid was not able to contain them any longer, and soon he was sobbing.

Collins put his arms around his son and held on to him.

“Where is Mr. George?” Longarm said. “If you don't mind me askin', that is.”

Donny first looked up at his father, who nodded for him to answer. “He was heading for the livery stable,” the boy said.

Longarm raised an eyebrow. “Where's that, Ira?”

“The edge of town. Two blocks in that dir—”

Before he could finish the directions, Longarm had passed through the office doorway and was halfway across the anteroom.

 • • • 

George Stepanek was busy saddling a sleek roan when Longarm strode into the livery barn. “Goin' somewhere, George?”

Stepanek swung around to face him, blood in the man's eye, his face red with barely contained fury. “You son of a bitch. You've ruined everything. Until you came and messed things up, I was on my way to owning those whorehouses and most of Ira's properties too. Then you, you bastard, you had to stick your ugly nose in.”

“First off, George, Helen Morrow is a friend of mine. Anything that hurts her is gonna piss me off
real
bad. Second, poking my nose in where somebody else don't want it is what I do for a living. I'm a deputy United States marshal, and I'm wondering if you've broken any laws that I can arrest you for.

“Come to think of it, George, I expect the sensible thing for me to do is to put you in cuffs and haul you off to jail while I finish figuring that out.” Longarm smiled. “So what say you turn around and put your hands behind you.”

“No damned way, Long. Is that your real name anyway? It's really Long?”

“It's really Long, George, and you are under arrest.”

“What the hell for?”

“Jeez, George, I don't care. How about inciting to riot? Would that work for you?”

“But I haven't done . . .”

“Oh, I think maybe you have. So I'm gonna take you in, George. We'll work out the exact charges after I go over the county records to see what all you've stolen and from who,” Longarm said, relaxed and smiling.

Stepanek made the mistake of thinking the casual expression meant Longarm's guard was down.

The man grabbed for his gun.

The simpleton had already had one demonstration that he was not Custis Long's equal with a .45.

He made that mistake again.

It was his last.

Longarm's Colt belched fire and smoke and lead. The bullet punched a hole the size of a dime—a red and bloody dime—almost squarely between George Stepanek's eyes.

The man's head snapped back, and a red mist of blood and bone and brains fanned out behind his head.

Stepanek tottered backward half a step. Then he collapsed. The man's knees buckled, and he toppled face-forward into a pile of fresh horse shit.

Longarm looked down at what was left of Stepanek. “Couldn't happen to a nicer son of a bitch, Georgie,” he mumbled as he punched the empty out of his Colt and dropped a fresh cartridge into the cylinder.

 • • • 

Ira Collins caught up with him near the depot. “Where are you going, Long?”

“First off I need to get a wire off to my boss in Denver. Gotta tell him that I'll be back on the job in a day or two. Then I need to get you and Helen together. She thinks it's you who've been after her properties. You need to let her know that isn't so.”

Longarm chuckled. “After that, Ira, I'm gonna take me a day . . . more like a night . . . just to myself. Well, to me an' a certain little redhead that I know. Now, if you will excuse me, I got that wire to send.”

Longarm touched the brim of his Stetson, then turned and resumed his march toward the telegraph office.

Watch for

LONGARM AND THE DIME NOVELIST

the 423
rd
novel in the exciting LONGARM series from Jove

Coming in February!