Longarm and the Panther Mountain Shoot-Out by Tabor Evans

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

Chapter 12

Longarm pushed through the Red Onion’s batwing doors and stepped onto the dusty, poorly lit, creaking boardwalk. He crawfished his way out of the single shaft of available light that fell from inside the saloon, placed his package of leftover steak, wrapped and tied in butcher’s paper, under his arm, and pulled a cheroot from his vest pocket. After a long pause, he shoved the cigar between clenched teeth—unlit.

Dark and virtually deserted, Panther Mountain’s main thoroughfare no longer entertained small knots of drunken revelers, left over from the afternoon’s deadly events. Low-hanging, rust-colored clouds covered an inky sky bereft of stars. Blood-tinged moonlight deepened the ominous gloom, and cast menacing shadows from every business entrance, water trough, and possible assassin’s hiding place.

Longarm carefully eyeballed each nook and cranny for concealed threats. He shrugged as chicken flesh ran up his sweaty spine. Perfect night for another killing, he thought.

With practiced caution, Longarm turned and started back for Buster Byers’s office and the much desired safety and security of a soft, comfortable place to sleep. For a fleeting moment, the image of Marley Newman, buck-assed nekkid on her back and beckoning, flashed across his fevered mind, but he immediately dismissed the thought and focused on the prospect of dry gulching weasels waiting in the dark. Years of past experience forced him to hesitate before each building’s entry. He gave watchful attention to alleyways before exposing himself to the likelihood of potential ambush.

He keyed the padlock on the jailhouse door and had just breathed a sigh of pleased relief when a rush of movement from the darkness swarmed around him. Just over the threshold, Everett Turner’s carefully trussed package hit the floor with a resounding thump. The surprised lawman’s pistol came out and up in a flash as he grappled with his assailant.

His free hand landed on, then squeezed a melon-sized breast. In the inky darkness, the woman attached moaned like a cougar in heat.

“Jesus girl,” he snapped, “I damned near shot you deader than hell in a preacher’s front parlor.”

Lips found his neck, cheek, then greedily covered his mouth. An incredibly long, flaming hot tongue forced his teeth apart and filled his mouth.

She broke the kiss, grabbed at the fingers rolling her flint-hard nipple, forced them up under her loosened skirt and slapped them between her widely straddled legs. Sucking air like she’d just run a mile, his still-unseen aggressor grunted, “I’ve been waitin’ for this ever since you rode into town. You’re just about the best-lookin’ hunk of man I’ve ever seen. Ain’t nothin’ around this nowhere, do-nothin’ berg that even compares.”

Longarm holstered his pistol, helped the girl massage her dripping sex, then led both of them inside the jailhouse. He pushed the door closed with his foot. “You know, Miss Marley,” he said, “way I hear it, Jesse Burton just might not approve of such behavior on the part of his loving sweetheart.”

For about a second, Marley Newman stiffened under his insistent caresses, leaned away, and pulled her hand free; then she went back on the attack with a vengeance.

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