Longarm and the Great Divide by Tabor Evans Read Free Book Online Page A

hand.
    The cook looked around, annoyed but upright. “Oh, don’t be worried, Marshal. That’s probably some drunk cowboy from over Nebraska way. He’s likely pissed off ’cause he knows you’re about to close Stonecipher down and make those sons o’ bitches all move someplace else. I wouldn’t worry about it overmuch.” He used a spatula to stir the potatoes and flip the ham over onto the other side. “Coffee should be ready soon,” he said.
    By then Longarm was already out the door, moving at a crouch in the dim predawn light.

Chapter 20
    Nothing. He could see little and what he could see did not include any humans who might have fired that bullet.
    Was the damn thing an attempt on his life? Or merely a warning? And if a warning or an assassination attempt, either one, the question remained: Why?
    He was here trying to do good, trying to comply with a request for assistance. Whose ox was that goading and what were they doing that they would feel threatened by a U.S. deputy marshal’s presence?
    Unable to spot any idiot out for a morning stroll with a gun in hand, Longarm shoved his own .45 back into the leather and returned to the café.
    â€œCoffee’s ready,” the cook said, stirring the skillet full of sliced potatoes.
    â€œAn’ I’m ready for it,” Longarm told him.
    â€œIf’n I was you,” the man said, “I wouldn’t worry about that stray gunshot. The cowboys come to town, they can get a mite rambunctious. You got to understand, Marshal, Valmere is the only town within a two-day ride, so when those boys have a few hours to get away from their work, they come here for whatever kind of blowout they’re looking for. Mostly the want to get liquored up and then get laid.” He looked over his shoulder and smiled. “Come morning they got to scramble to get back to the ranch and go to work again. My guess would be that shot came from the back of a cow pony on its way back home. The cowboy on top of that horse likely was just making some last-minute fireworks. I wouldn’t think anything about it, was I you.”
    â€œThanks for the advice. About that coffee . . . ?”
    â€œI’m not forgetting you. Just don’t want your breakfast to burn. Here you go.” The cook laid down his spatula and plucked a coffee cup off a pile of them stacked on a shelf. He filled the cup and set it in front of Longarm, then added a bowl of sugar and a freshly opened can of condensed milk. “Let me get you a spoon.”
    The coffee was fresh if not overly strong. If nothing else, it washed some of the fur off Longarm’s tongue. And the ham and fried spuds that followed filled the empty void in his belly.
    He just wished he knew if the cook was right about that gunshot.
    Longarm grunted softly, then tried to put the incident out of mind while he concentrated on surrounding that good breakfast.

Chapter 21
    Longarm was not entirely sure just how a town marshal should act. And he was there as a substitute for a town marshal. That sort of thing was really not heavy in his experience. Enforcing the local laws would be the biggest part of it, he assumed, but in this case he did not know what the local laws were. Or even if there were any.
    Just keeping order should do it, he decided. With that in mind, after breakfast he got out onto the sidewalk fronting the main street and made a show of his presence.
    He ambled back and forth. Walked down to the livery and checked on his horse. Stopped in at the mercantile and bought some cigars. Dropped by the saloon for a brief chat with the bartender. Had a cup of coffee at the café.
    Then he went across to the Nebraska side and did the same thing over there.
    And received the same comments when he chatted with the residents.
    â€œAre you gonna make those people go the hell away and leave us alone?”
    â€œSay, Marshal, how long before those people have to move