Longarm and the Cry of the Wolf (9781101619506) by Evans Tabor

Author:Evans, Tabor
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin USA
Published: 2013-01-23T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 10

Longarm felt a knot grow behind his belt buckle as, descending the stairs, he looked around at the locals and then at the more recent settlers of Crazy Kate, who were mostly younger and without that dark, Old World cynicism in their gazes. He looked at the general now, and the contrast was even starker as the man turned to his daughter, wobbling drunkenly, the pretty Indian doxie holding him up, one arm wrapped around his considerable waist, the other hand splayed on his chest.

Her small breasts jostled as she moved with the old, drunk soldier.

“Catherine, my dear. So good of you to join us. I was getting worried.” The general looked at Longarm and grinned devilishy. “Fornicating again, my dear?” he asked his daughter. “Whatever will I do with you?”

“The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, does it, Father?” Catherine said, stopping and hiking an elbow atop the bar. She nodded at the Indian girl. “You pay her well. She’s gonna earn every penny.”

Catherine glanced at Longarm, who bellied up to the bar beside her.

With the help of the Indian girl, General Fortescue wended his way through the tables and chairs and approached his daughter and the tall federal lawman, who had just ordered a drink for him and her. He’d been intending on heading over to the town marshal’s office, but he saw Marshal Frank Calvin just now entering the Carpathian Mountain, batting his hat against his thigh to dislodge the fresh dusting of snow.

Flanking him, the saloon’s large window was fading to lilac, snow pellets flecking the glass.

The general said, “Marshal Long, I must say I’m surprised but pleased to see you here. The wolves were absolutely devilish along the trail. I take it Catherine informed you about what happened to one of our party?” The general cleared his throat and grinned with half of his mouth mantled with the thick, silver walrus mustache. “I assume you two do talk some . . .”

“Some,” Catherine said, taking the glass from her father’s hand and skidding it across the bar.

“She did,” Longarm said. “My condolences, General.”

“Imagine these people believing in werewolves!”

“It’s true, mister.” This from Frank Calvin walking up behind the general with his long, wool-lined deerskin coat hanging open.

“Uh . . . that’s General Fortescue,” said his bodyguard, Captain Sidney Ashton-Green, who’d been slowly, not inconspicuously gravitating toward Catherine since she’d dropped down out of her and Longarm’s love nest on the second story.

“Oh, that’s quite all right, Sidney,” the general said, extending his hand toward the town marshal. “Marshal, I don’t believe we’ve been formally introduced.”

Calvin scowled back at the rotund ex-soldier, the town marshal’s eyes critically raking the general’s flashy buckskin attire. Reluctantly, he shook the man’s hand, not bothering to remove his glove. “Frank Calvin, General. How long do you and your people figure on stayin’ here in Crazy Kate? Winter’s comin’ on, don’t you know. The passes will have you all sealed in soon.” He narrowed an eye at Longarm. “You, too, Marshal Long.

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