Longarm and the Missing Husband Read Free

he was supposed to find Hank Bacon when he got to the White River Indian Reservation.
    He tugged his hat low over his eyes and attempted to doze on the drive to the railway station. After all, he had gotten practically no sleep the night before.
    Not that he regretted the evening. It had not been time wasted. Far from it.
    What
was
it about Beth Bacon, though, that made her so damned desirable?
    He had had Angela for hours on end last night, had her in nearly every way a man could think of, yet now it was Beth on whom his thoughts lay. It was a puzzlement.

Chapter 6
    Longarm spent the trip up to Cheyenne in the smoking car playing cards with some friendly travelers, one a priest whose luck—if it was luck—was phenomenal. The man won and won and won some more. If he had stayed in the game much longer, Longarm figured he would have gone broke before they reached Fort Collins. Fortunately the priest took his winnings, and his Bible, and left the game after an hour or so. After that Longarm was able to get back at least a little of what he had lost to the man with the turned-around collar.
    They reached Cheyenne in the middle of the night. A conductor came through warning everyone, and waking them, ten minutes or so out.
    â€œIf you leave anything behind, make sure it’s something valuable. I’ll give it to my old lady for an anniversary present,” the man said. Longarm was not sure if he meant that or not. Not that Longarm had so very much baggage to keep track of. There was just his carpetbag and he had that with him in the smoking car.
    When the train lurched to a clattering, clanking halt at the Cheyenne station, Longarm got up from the table where he had been playing and thanked the other gents for the pleasure of the game.
    â€œNext time let us win a little, Long,” a drummer dealing in yard goods said.
    Longarm grinned. “Next time bring more money with you, Horace.”
    Longarm retrieved his carpetbag from the overhead rack where he had left it and followed the crowd out of the car onto the platform at Cheyenne. The night air felt chilly after the smoky confinement of the railroad coach. He turned his collar up and headed for the Union Pacific depot nearby.
    When he got there . . .
    â€œWhat the hell are you doing here, dammit? I thought I left you safe an’ sound back in Denver,” he bawled.
    Bethlehem Bacon smiled at him as if he had just paid her a friendly compliment. “It is nice to see you, too, Marshal.”
    â€œBut . . .”
    â€œI know. You were trying to protect me. But I couldn’t abide staying there, always waiting, never knowing what was happening up here. So”—she spread her hands and smiled so very sweetly again—“so here I am.”
    â€œHow? I mean . . . I thought you said you were broke. How’d you get a ticket?”
    â€œThat was simple enough,” the lady said. “I told them I was traveling with you. They charged my fare to the government or somebody. Anyway here I am.”
    â€œYes, here you are,” Longarm said. “The question now is, what the hell am I gonna do with you here in Cheyenne? I don’t have anyplace up here where I can dump you while I try an’ find your husband.”
    â€œExactly,” Beth said. “So I shall go with you.” She smiled just about the sweetest, prettiest smile he had ever seen. “Now,” she said as if that silliness were all settled, “let’s go find out when the next westbound train will be coming through.”

Chapter 7
    â€œWe should get off at Rawlins,” Beth told him after they were established in one of the passenger coaches—
not
a smoking car—and on their way. Longarm simply had not known what else to do with the sneaky female and so brought her along with him. “But only until I can figure out where t’ put you for a spell,” he had agreed.
    â€œAn’ why Rawlins