Longarm #399 : Longarm and the Grand Canyon Murders (9781101554401) by Tabor Evans Read Free Book Online Page B

pack animal and just take one fast horse? I can probably buy any supplies along the way that I can’t stuff into a saddlebag.”
    John Wallace shook his head. “Every time you open your mouth I’m losin’ more money.”
    “Sorry about that,” Longarm told him. “But justremember that you’re going to sell out every seat on your stagecoach after my wife buys a ticket.”
    “Yeah, there is that, I reckon.”
    Thirty minutes later, Longarm was in the saddle and galloping north out of Flagstaff. He reckoned it was still before nine o’clock, and the horse that he and Wallace had decided was best was a fine-looking buckskin mare. She had long legs and a pretty black tail and mane.
    “Her name is Sassy and she’s the best horse I own,” Wallace had told him. “If you lame her or lose her, it’ll cost you an even hundred dollars.”
    “I don’t intend to do either. I’ll push the mare, but I won’t ruin good horseflesh.”
    “I knew you’d promise me that. Otherwise, I’d have given you a far lesser animal.”
    Now, with the mare set at a steady jog that would carry him farther and faster, Longarm climbed over a high rise and then rode down toward the vast Coconino Plateau country. By midday he’d reached what was called the Little Grand Canyon but was in fact a mostly dry canyon, where an old Navajo trading post stood on the edge of the south cliff. The trading post looked to be prosperous, and there were quite a few Indian ponies and supply wagons tied in front of the post.
    Longarm dismounted and tied the buckskin mare off a ways by herself. He knew that the locals would take note of Sassy’s exceptional looks, and he was a little worried that some young Navajo just might untie the mare, leap into the saddle, and ride like hell for parts unknown.
    Still, he had a need to buy a few basic supplies along with cigars and a box of ammunition for his rifle…maybe a warm Navajo blanket in case the nights got chilly and some jerky and coffee.
    When he entered the trading post, all conversation stopped. The room was filled with Navajo families; cute little kids with big black eyes and women who wore long and colorful velvet skirts and turquoise and silver jewelry.
    Longarm nodded to everyone and they finally nodded back. Like most Indian trading posts he’d visited, this one was packed with all sorts of interesting goods. Mostly it had big rolls of sheep wool and pelts along with barrels of pickles, crackers, and pigs’ feet.
    “Howdy,” a white man said in greeting, from behind the glass counter filled with silver and turquoise. “What can I get for you today?”
    Longarm gave the clerk his short order. “I carry everything you need, but I’m sorry that I can’t sell you any whiskey on the reservation.”
    “I didn’t ask to buy any,” Longarm replied. “But I could use some chili peppers and two pounds of salted pork along with the other things I’ve already mentioned.”
    “Won’t take but a few minutes to fill your order. In the meantime, you can mosey around and see if there’s anything else that catches your eye.”
    “Oh, there are probably plenty of things that I’d like to buy…but I’m on a tight budget.”
    “We’ve got some real fine Navajo jewelry on sale,” the clerk told him, tapping the top of the glass and looking down at the assortment of jewelry. “I’ve been told that Navajo jewelry brings quite a price back east.”
    “I’m from Denver and I don’t need any jewelry.”
    “Suit yourself,” the clerk said with a curt smile as he hurried off to fill the order.
    For the next twenty minutes, Longarm wanderedaround in the trading post looking at the amazing variety of goods. Horseshoes, bows and arrows, old cap-and-ball pistols, knives with beautiful handles of silver inlay and blades long enough to qualify as sabers, foods that looked as though they might be highly toxic to a white man’s stomach, and leather goods—shirts, moccasins, and many other items, all