Free Longarm 422 by Tabor Evans

Jersey.”
    â€œGood night, sir.”
    Longarm trudged back upstairs, wondering just what this was all about.
    When he thought about it, though, the message was something he could take as a good sign. It meant that Helen’s tormentors were starting to expose themselves.
    If they wanted to come after him now . . . good! He would love for them to come right out in the open.
    He set the latch on his door, but this evening took the extra precaution of propping his room chair under the doorknob. Not that he was expecting company, but a boy never knew about these things.

Chapter 30
    Longarm stripped the cheesecloth off a three-pound wedge of cheddar and set it, along with a basket of hardtack, on the end of the counter. There were no customers in the Star at the moment, but soon the lunchtime drinkers would be coming in, and they would want some free eats to go with their beer.
    He picked up a cloth and began polishing the bar. Needlessly, as Robert kept things tidy and clean, but at the moment Robert was off getting his own early lunch. He would be back in time to take over for the noon crowd. Or so Longarm hoped. He was not at all sure he could keep up with things by himself.
    A bartender’s work was more difficult than he had ever realized until he started doing it. Thank goodness for Robert Ware!
    The batwings swung open, and a man in a dark suit and wide-brimmed black hat came in.
    Longarm fashioned an automatic smile and said, “Welcome. What can I get you?”
    By way of an answer the gentleman pulled his coat open to expose a tin star pinned to his vest. The star and a pistol carried in a shoulder holster.
    â€œI didn’t know the town had a marshal,” Longarm said.
    â€œIt doesn’t. I’m Bert Anderson. I’m sheriff of Quapah County. And as such you are in my jurisdiction, Long.”
    Longarm wiped his hand with a bar rag, then extended it to the sheriff to shake. “Pleased to meet you, Sheriff. Can I offer you a beer or something? Shot of whiskey maybe?”
    â€œI’ll take a beer and a shot,” Anderson said. “And you and me need to talk.”
    Longarm poured the shot, leaving the bottle on the bar where Anderson could reach it, then drew the beer chaser and set it in front of the sheriff. “What do we need to talk about, Sheriff?”
    Anderson looked around, as if to verify there was no one else in the place to overhear. Then he tossed back the whiskey and took a swallow of beer before he said, “You run some whores in here of an evening.”
    Longarm nodded. “That’s right, Sheriff. I have four girls.”
    â€œYou aren’t licensed to have women. Just the, um, liquid goods.”
    Longarm could not remember getting a license to run the saloon, never mind the whores. But he was not going to mention that to the county sheriff. “Where do I go to get a license for them?” he asked.
    â€œThere is no such license for a saloon,” Anderson said. The man poured himself another shot, downed it, and finished the rest of his beer.
    â€œAnother?” Longarm asked.
    Anderson wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and shook his head. “No, that’s enough.”
    â€œAbout that license . . .”
    â€œI told you, there is no such. You aren’t allowed to run whores out of a saloon. Period. Man wants a fuck, he knows where to get it. And it isn’t in this saloon or any other around here.”
    â€œWhat am I supposed to do with the girls I already have?” Longarm asked.
    â€œSend them back where they came from. Or sell them. I, um, know a man who would buy them from you. He’d pay you a good price for them. What did you pay for them to begin with?”
    â€œI’d have to look it up,” Longarm said. “I disremember at the moment.” The truth was that he had gotten the girls from Helen. But he was not going to tell Anderson that. He suspected the sheriff was