Longarm and the Texas Treasure Hunt by Tabor Evans

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

Chapter 11

Longarm didn’t have time to catch the young woman before she fell, but he was close enough to lunge forward and snag the horse’s reins before the animal could bolt. He had seen that Beth’s right boot was still caught in the stirrup, and she could have been dragged and badly hurt if the horse had stampeded.

Hauling down hard to keep the spooked mount under control, Longarm reached for Beth’s ankle with his other hand and freed her foot from the stirrup. Then he led the horse over to a scrubby mesquite and securely tied the reins to the tree. He hurried back to the side of the unconscious young woman.

She didn’t seem to be hurt except for a small scrape on her forehead that she had gotten when she landed. She had just fainted from the realization that she had killed a man. Her well-formed breasts rose and fell at a steady rate under the wool shirt she wore. Her face was pale, with twin spots of color on her cheeks. As Longarm hunkered beside her, he loosened the shirt’s top button so that she could breathe a little easier. Beth moaned and stirred slightly as consciousness tried to return to her.

The sudden blast of a shot, followed by a swift rataplan of hoofbeats, made Longarm straighten hurriedly to his feet and whirl around, his hand going to his gun. He eased it away and left the Colt undrawn as he saw the handful of mounted men racing down the road toward him. If he pulled iron now, likely they would shoot first and ask questions later. Keeping his hands in plain sight, he moved a few steps away from Beth, getting her out of the direct line of fire if gunplay broke out.

There hadn’t been any more shots after that warning round, however, and although all the newcomers had their guns out, they didn’t seem trigger-happy. Dust billowed up from the hooves of their horses as they came to a stop in the road. The rest of the men covered Longarm as the leader, a white-haired, red-faced, middle-aged man dismounted hurriedly and ran over to Beth. He dropped to his knees beside her and grabbed her shoulders.

One of the men pointing guns at Longarm growled, “If you’ve hurt Miss Beth, you’ll swing, you son of a bitch.”

“And we won’t waste time takin’ you into town, neither,” put in one of the other cowboys. “There’s a cottonwood over yonder that’ll do just fine for a hangin’ tree.”

Longarm forced himself to stay calm, even though having guns pointed at him always rubbed him the wrong way. It wouldn’t help the situation if he got riled up now.

“You’re making a mistake, boys,” he drawled. “The lady’s fine. She just fainted and fell off her horse. Anyway, I didn’t have anything to do with it.” Other than telling her she’d just killed a man, he added silently.

“I think she’s all right,” the white-haired man called over to the others, turning his head to do so.

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