Longarm and the Diamondback Widow by Tabor Evans

Author:Tabor Evans
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Group US
Published: 2013-06-25T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 10

“Hold your fire! Hold your goddamn fire!”

The angry voice had come from the street. It belonged to one of the group headed up by a man in a gunmetal-gray business suit carrying a railroad lantern by its wire handle.

The lantern cast a glow over the front of the group, which appeared to be comprised of between a half a dozen and ten men all sticking close to the heels of the bowler-hatted leader holding the lantern up even with his head.

“I will if you will,” Longarm said, holding his pistol straight out from his right side, aimed warningly at the group.

The man with the lantern stopped. He wore small round spectacles and a pewter mustache. Hair of the same color shone beneath his crisp, black bowler and in the sideburns dropping down the sides of his face. He was an elegant, dapper dude in a twenty-dollar suit no doubt tailor-made for his compact frame.

The others stopped close behind him. They reminded Longarm of a gaggle of ducklings following close on their mother’s tail feathers.

“What in the name of God is going on?” barked the dapper gent, lifting his gaze from Longarm’s pistol.

“You tell me.”

The man glared at Longarm from behind his glasses that reflected the lantern light and thus hid his eyes. “Ah,” he said. “You’re the man I’ve been hearing so much about. Deputy Long, I take it?”

“Who’re you?”

“Alexander Richmond, owner and president of the Diamondback Valley Bank and Trust. Also mayor and head of the town council.”

“Just the man I’ve been wanting to talk to,” Longarm said. “Figured maybe you could tell me why those two were fixin’ to drill me with a third eye and a third ear hole, neither of which I’d be able to see or hear through.”

“They shot at you?”

“Indeed they did.”

“Who are they?”

“You tell me, Mr. Mayor.”

One of the men from the rear of the group piped up with “Giff Berkley’s the dead one outside the feed store, Mr. Richmond.”

“And there’s another down there?” Richmond asked Longarm, lifting his chin to indicate the alley behind the lawman.

“Yep.”

Richmond turned his regal head to one side. “Two of you men check it out.”

Two men separated from the group and jogged into the break behind Longarm. Longarm kept his head forward, making sure none of the nine men before him decided to try and finish the job the other two had started.

Shortly, one of the men behind him yelled, “Cletus Delphi!”

“Delphi and Berkley,” Richmond said, working the names around between his lips. “Aren’t they on Tanner Webster’s roll?”

“Sure are,” said one of the men behind Richmond. The group had fanned out a little. None were holding guns, but most were armed, and they regarded Longarm with expressions running the gamut between jeering and bald hatred.

“Who’s Tanner Webster?” Longarm wanted to know.

“A big rancher in these parts, Deputy Long. He owns half the basin. He’s not going to be at all happy to see two of his horses return to his ranch with empty saddles.”

“Maybe I should ride out and apologize.

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