Free Longarm 241: Longarm and the Colorado Counterfeiter by Tabor Evans

both handled their revolvers as if they knew how to use them. But they were too far away for him to use his only weapon, the derringer. He let his horse close a little more of the distance before he pulled the mare to a stop.
    Charlie said, “Now, do you understand? Get down off that horse, son. We’re liable to have to let some light into you right here and now. I don’t think you’d care for that. If you get up there amongst those rocks, you might have a chance on getting away from us.”
    â€œAre you planning on doing what I think you are going to do?”
    â€œThis ain’t nothing to do with us, understand? This is just orders. We take orders from the man who pays us, and you’ve gotten wrong with him.”
    Longarm still sat his horse. “Well, do me one favor then, if you can. Would you mind telling me what I did that got him so convinced that I’m not a horse trader?”
    The two men half smiled at each other. “What do you say, Charlie? Do you reckon it would be all right to tell him?”
    â€œI don’t see why not. I don’t reckon he’s going to be using that trick much longer.”
    Ernie said, “We’ll tell you if you’ll tell us who you really are.”
    Longarm said, “That’s a square deal.”
    â€œWell, who are you? What is your real business?”
    â€œAfter a fashion, I am in the horse business. I’m a horse thief and I wanted on to this place to look it over and see what I could make off with.”
    It seemed to strike the two riders as very funny. They both laughed and slapped their legs. Ernie said, “Well, that does make sense. That beats all. Comes in here pretending to be a horse trader, going to take off with our stock. You were going to trade, all right, but you weren’t going to give us nothing.”
    â€œThat was about the size of it.”
    â€œAnd now you want to know what you done, is that it?”
    â€œYeah.”
    Ernie said, “Well, you made one slipup. There ain’t no such thing as a Morgan and a thoroughbred crossed. I don’t know what kind of horse you’d get out of it, but Mr. Ashton doesn’t believe he wants one. Now, why don’t you just step on down off that horse and let’s get on with the business at hand?”
    Longarm was judging the distance between them. Once he was on the ground, there would be no more than five yards separating him from the pair. He felt comfortable with the distance, but he thought he could make it even better. Very carefully, with his right hand working under his belt buckle, he swung his leg over the rump of the horse and stepped down to the ground, taking his left foot out of the stirrup as he did. He released his left hand from the saddle horn and slowly turned. The derringer was already in his hand and he cocked the hammer as he coughed slightly. He was holding the hand just behind his right leg. With a nonchalant air, he stepped with his left leg toward the two men and then seemed to stumble. He was not stumbling, though, he was simply going to his knee. As he did, he brought his right arm up swiftly, the derringer buried in his hand. Before they realized their danger, he had shot Ernie in the chest with the top barrel, and then fired and hit Charlie in the stomach.
    They both went down with surprised looks on their faces. The pistols tumbled from their hands. Longarm knew he had to work fast. The shots would have been noticed—there were too many riders not to have heard them. He stooped quickly and grabbed up the two revolvers the men had been holding, and shoved them in his belt. Until he found his own, he needed to be armed. He went to the saddlebags of Charlie’s horse and swiftly lifted up the flap. Both of his revolvers were inside. He could see that the boot on Ernie’s horse contained his Winchester. There was a boot on both sides that carried a shotgun in one side and a rifle in the other. As