Longarm and the escape artist by Evans Tabor & Copyright Paperback Collection (Library of Congress) DLC

Author:Evans, Tabor & Copyright Paperback Collection (Library of Congress) DLC
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: New York : Jove Book
Published: 1986-03-15T00:00:00+00:00

he'd listen to you if you yelled at him and said you wanted to talk?"

"But of course he would!"

Longarm had been squinting upward while they talked, trying to pierce the darkness with his eyes. He asked Ortega, "I guess you'd remember the layout of this barn, since you been here before. Ain't there a hayloft running along the sides over these horse stalls?"

"Yes, it is a special kind of hay, veiy expensive."

Longarm felt his way along the stalls until he found the ladder that led up to the loft. He mounted only high enough to enable him to pull a sizeable bunch of hay from the loft to the floor. Dropping back down the ladder, he bundled a small handful of hay together, closed his eyes to slits, and touched a match to the hay. It flared up at once, revealing the double line of stalls, each holding a golden horse with a white mane. Longarm lifted his improvised torch while he squinted along the stalls. A few of the horses stamped and tossed their heads at the sudden light. Then his eyes reached the end of the row and he saw that, as he'd surmised, the barn had double doors at both ends. He turned back to Ortega.

"Now, here's what I want you to do," he said. "Take this bunch of hay over to the door so's Murietta can see it's you. Tell him he's got three minutes to bring the Stovespit Kid out here. If he don't, I'll start shooting his horses."

"But, Marshal Long—" Oretga began.

"Shut up and do what I told you to! Murietta's already killed one of your men, and I don't reckon he'd think twice about shooting you."

"No! Joaquin is my friend!"

"You might've thought he was before you brought me here," Longarm said, his voice cold. "I'll bet dollars to doughnuts he don't call you his friend any longer. Now, get over to the door and start calling him!"

Reluctance showing in his every move, Ortega took the wisp of burning hay and walked to the open door of the barn. Holding the makeshift torch above his head, he called, "Joaquin! I must talk with you!"

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