Longarm and Maximilian's Gold by Tabor Evans

Author:Tabor Evans
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group

Longarm woke up thinking about that shooter the night before. Never mind that the nameless sonuvabitch was dead. The point was that he’d made the try. And Longarm had no idea why. Was he a fugitive with a guilty conscience who heard the name and jumped to the conclusion that Longarm had to be there chasing his sorry ass? Or was he working for whatever group it was who wanted Jean-Claude?

Longarm would not be particularly concerned if the man was just another felon on the run. If that were the case, that was the end of it.

But if the would-be kidnappers were closing in, that was indeed cause for alarm.

“Where are we?” he asked. He removed his Stetson and ran a hand over his head to smooth down his hair, and across his face to judge the state of his whiskers—he needed a shave as well as that haircut he’d never gotten around to—then knuckled the sleep out of his eyes. The process was not as good as a splash of cold water, but it did help a little.

“Texas,” Jean-Claude said. He sounded irritable.

“You still mad because you didn’t have a woman last night?”

“I am not mad. I am angry. Not because of the women in that stupid town, no. Because I am tired of this rain. Rain, rain, more rain. Mud, filth, nuisance. And Texas. How much longer before we get to New Mexico, eh?”

“I didn’t know we was going to New Mexico.”

“Well, we are. I think.” He shrugged. “Maybe so.”

“You think. You don’t know,” Longarm said.

Gilbert hesitated, as if reluctant to part with any information that he did not absolutely have to give away. “There is a place called Gros Teton, yes?” He did not pronounce it the way an American would have, but Longarm had no trouble understanding what he meant.

“There is such a place, sure.”

“In Texas.”

“That’s right.”

“Also in New Mexico.”

“Right again,” Longarm agreed.

“We are going to Gros Teton,” Gilbert said.

“Which one?”

The Frenchman sighed. “This I do not know. Both of them if we must.”

“Like if we don’t find what you’re looking for in the first one, we’ll go on to the next, is that it?”

“Exactly so, yes.”

“D’you know there’s a Gros Teton in southern Colorado too? It’s in the San Luis Valley not far north o’ the New Mexico border.”

Jean-Claude did not look at all happy to receive that bit of news. Not that Longarm was so damn thrilled about it himself. If the south of Colorado or New Mexico or anyplace in the west of Texas was where they were bound, it would’ve been a helluva lot easier to get there by heading south from Denver instead of going to all the bother of making the riverboat trek down to New Orleans—well, all right, Baton Rouge as it turned out.

He frowned. Or did Gilbert have some reason to do it that way? Some reason, that is, apart from a lack of knowledge about the geography of this country.

Longarm peered out into the gray, dreary day. A fine drizzle continued to fall, and the horses were making hard work of it.

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