Longarm and the Calgary Kid by Tabor Evans

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

The song got dirtier after that. Longarm stopped singing it as he nodded to himself and declared, “Ginger and Candy, back in that cellar in Denver. Their holes weren’t quite that big, but they surely were a couple of wild whores and here we are up in Canada! So what in the hell am I trying to tell myself? That all three of them, and that slicker they called Hamish, are homicidal lunatics?”

Then he spotted movement way the hell down the slope, and forgot about old maids from Canada as he made out a raggedy band of riders moving up the trail above the timberline!

“Here, pussy, pussy!” Longarm whispered as he made out nine of them in all. They were sharply backlit by the low morning sun. But there was no mistaking them for Indians, or Mounties. They could have passed for honest trail herders, had this been a cattle trail and they’d been out to move anything but their own asses and that Siksika silver over the Great Divide!

Behind them, that wood smoke still rose, to show they’d simply left their campfire burning as they’d ridden on.

Longarm wondered why that surprised him. Killers who’d leave an Indian village in flames after gunning men, women, and children were hardly likely to give a shit about burning down trees.

It took another million years for them to work their way up to his level. He could hear them joshing back and forth in the crisp thin air from half a mile off. Then they were closer, talking louder, as Longarm snicked the safety off with a round in the chamber. To see them for the first time, and hear them conversing lightly about some trail town they remembered fondly, a body could take them for a bunch of innocent cowhands, maybe Canadian cowhands, headed over Vancouver way on honest business.

That was a shitty consideration to contemplate at this eleventh hour! But it had to be considered. A man would never forgive himself if he learned, too late, he’d ambushed the wrong bunch.

Longarm rose slowly to his feet, telling himself not to be a total fool. There were nine of them to one of him, and they’d already shown no inclination to offer any sucker an even break!

But Longarm let them work their way up the trail until they were about even with him. Then he circled the big outcrop counterclockwise as they passed, to step out into sight down the slope from them before he took a deep breath, let half of it out so his voice wouldn’t crack in the thin mountain air, and called out to the column headed the other way, “Hold her right there, gents! I got the drop on you and I’d be U.S. Deputy Marshal Custis Long of the Denver—”

Then all hell broke loose as some twisted in their saddles, guns in hand, while others spurred their mounts into dead runs in all directions across the wide-open approaches to Crowsnest Pass!

Longarm’s Winchester reached accurately out to

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