Free Longarm and the Missing Husband by Tabor Evans Page A

t’will be noontime or thereabouts,” Trydon said. “The passengers, if there are any, will want to have a bite to eat while me and the driver switch out the team. Then you can get aboard. Don’t worry, though. You’ll have plenty of notice before it pulls out.” He looked at Longarm. “I’ll want to be collecting the fare for you to go on. No hurry, of course. Take your time.”
    â€œYour mail contract says I ride free. So does the lady, seeing as she’s a material witness in my custody,” Longarm said. He noticed Beth’s eyebrows go up when he said that, but she did not question him about it.
    Later, though, when neither Trydon nor the Indian woman was close by, Beth leaned toward him and said, “Am I in your custody?”
    He smiled. “Unless you want to pay eight dollars for the trip on to the reservation, you are.”
    â€œOh, well if you put it that way . . .”
    Beth killed time playing checkers with herself at one end of the long table—Longarm noticed that she won pretty much every time when she did that—while he found a Cheyenne newspaper that was not too old and settled down to read it from front to back, advertisements included.
    He set his reading matter aside several hours later when he noticed that the Indian woman had begun cooking a large pot of prairie dog stew and guessed that meant the stagecoach was due. He had no idea how Trydon and his woman would know how many passengers to prepare for, but the two of them seemed to know their business.
    The coach rolled in with a whoop and a holler and a cloud of dust not twenty minutes later.

Chapter 35
    â€œWhat can I do to help?” Longarm asked as the three passengers got down from the coach and went inside the station.
    â€œYou can stay out of our way,” Trydon said. “Me and Charlie know what we’re doing. You try and help, you’d just get underfoot and slow us down.”
    â€œAll right then,” Longarm said, backing off.
    He lit a cheroot and stood back to watch while Trydon and the driver unhooked the four-up from the mud wagon that was being used as a stagecoach and took the animals around back to the corrals. They returned minutes later with fresh horses in harness and expertly backed the new team into place at the front of the wagon. It took only minutes for the two men to make the exchange and have the coach ready to go again, minutes more until the passengers returned to their seats.
    â€œThanks, Sam,” Longarm said, shaking the stationmaster’s hand. “If it wouldn’t offend you, I’d like t’ write to your headquarters an’ thank them for the help. I’ll tell them you were a big help at a bad time for me.”
    â€œGood. A compliment might help get me out of this shithole and assigned someplace better. But, uh, don’t mention the Indian, will you? She isn’t on the payroll and it’s better they don’t know about her,” Trydon said.
    Longarm laughed. “Don’t worry. I won’t say a word about her.” He went inside, collected Beth, and joined the other passengers in the light coach.
    The coach was a refitted army ambulance with one long bench running along each side. Access was through an open doorway at the rear. The sides were open but had curtains that could be dropped to keep out rain.
    Longarm felt the coach rock to the side a little when the driver climbed onto his elevated seat. That suggested the coach would roll and sway with every bump once they were moving. Passengers on such outfits had been known to get seasick from the movement, never mind that there was no sea within a thousand miles.
    â€œSee you tomorrow, Sam,” Charlie called down from his driving box. Then he cracked his whip over the ears of his leaders, and the coach rocked into motion.
    Longarm tugged his hat down over his eyes, folded his arms, and dropped into a light doze and a reverie that