Longarm in the Dark by Tabor Evans

Author:Tabor Evans
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
Published: 2013-04-15T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 32

Longarm sipped his drink slowly, savoring the taste of it. He was thinking about remaining in the saloon until Belle returned from wherever she had gone. Thinking about her body and the way she felt beneath him. Thinking about . . .

A white-hot bolt of pain shot through his head from back to front, blindingly powerful, strong enough to buckle his knees and black out his vision.

Longarm gripped the edge of the bar in an attempt to remain upright until the pain passed. He really thought he had succeeded. Until he realized that his cheek was pressed hard against the sawdust-littered floor.

He was lying on the floor, his nose mere inches from a spittoon. The brass cuspidor stank of phlegm and old cigar butts. Between that and the queasiness in his stomach from the magnitude of the pain in his head, he wanted to puke but held it back. Still, he could feel the rise of it in the back of his throat.

“Mr. Stevens. Sir. Are you all right? Sir?” The voice sounded hollow and seemed to come from very far away.

“Is he drunk?” someone asked.

“Maybe. I don’t know. Not here though. He hasn’t had but the one drink here and,” there was a pause, “and he hasn’t even finished that one. Give me a hand here, Tim.”

Longarm very dimly felt himself being sat upright. Someone was nice enough to swipe a hand over his cheek to dislodge the sawdust that was clinging to him there.

“He’s a friend of Miss Belle, Tim. You and John take him over to the hotel, will you? Easy now. Don’t bang him around and make things worse. That’s it.”

Longarm felt himself floating. One benefactor had him by the shoulders, another by the feet. He knew they were outside only from of the sunlight. It hurt his eyes even through closed eyelids.

Someone was speaking. He could hear the drone of voices. Noises. None of it made any sense to him.

The pain in his head intensified. It became so bad that he wanted to cry out. He clamped his jaw closed against that impulse.

He was very dimly aware of movement. Of the voices. The sense of motion was indistinct and the voices like a buzzing inside his head. He wanted to throw up.

He felt himself being put down. He was warm now and comfortable. Longarm let go of consciousness and slipped silently away.

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