Free Longarm #398 : Longarm and the Range War (9781101553701) by Tabor Evans Page A

foreigners coming in here and making trouble for the rest of us.”
    â€œWell, that’s why I’m here,” Longarm said. He looked up at the waiter who had stopped beside his chair.
    â€œWe got eggs and spuds and fried pork. It’s that or porridge,” the waiter said.
    â€œI’ll have the eggs and stuff,” Longarm told him. “And coffee. I need my coffee. About a gallon of it just for starters.”
    â€œComing right up. I’ll bring the coffee right away and the rest of it soon.”
    Tifton and the Biederman brothers had already returned to their meals, and Longarm soon joined them in that pursuit.

Chapter 21
    Longarm passed through the little gate in front of Sheriff Tyler’s house and stepped up onto the porch. “Mornin’, John.”
    â€œGood morning, Longarm,” Tyler said over the rim of a coffee cup. “You surely are quiet. I didn’t even hear you come in last night. Didn’t hear you leave this morning either.”
    Longarm laughed. But did not elaborate. He did not want to shame Helen Birch by starting any speculation about where he spent the previous night.
    â€œAre you learning anything?”
    â€œNot very damn much,” Longarm said, settling into the comfortable rocker close to Tyler’s chair.
    â€œWould you like some breakfast? I’m sure we have some pork chops left over, and Nell could cook you some eggs.”
    â€œI’m fine,” Longarm said. “Just finished breakfast over to the café. I wanted to hear what folks are saying in town.”
    â€œCoffee then?” Tyler asked.
    Longarm shook his head. “I’m fine. Really.”
    â€œDid you hear anything interesting?”
    â€œJust what you’ve heard, I’m sure. That folks are expecting a fight. Opinions seem to differ about who’s gonna start it. Mostly they’re expecting someone to, it don’t hardly matter who.”
    Longarm rocked back in the chair and pulled out a cheroot. He nipped the twist off with his teeth and spat it into his palm, then tossed it into the bushes beside the porch before fishing out a match and using that to light his cigar.
    â€œWhat I need,” he mused, “is some way to talk to those Mexican goatherders. I couldn’t find none o’ them as speaks English, and you could put my Spanish into your vest pocket an’ have room left over.”
    â€œI might have the answer for that,” Tyler offered. “Do you remember the young man at the livery?”
    â€œAnthony? Of course I do,” Longarm said.
    â€œAnthony comes from the south of Texas. Someplace along the Rio Bravo, though I forget the name of it. I’ve heard him dickering with the goatherds about this or that. The boy speaks Spanish like he was born to it. Why don’t you ask him to ride along with you and talk to some of those fellows?”
    â€œI will, John. Thanks.”
    â€œI just wish I could be out there doing what the good people of McConnell County are paying me for.” He scowled at his own splinted and heavily wrapped leg like it had deliberately offended him. “Miserable damn cayuse,” he mumbled.
    Longarm stood. “Reckon I’ll step over to the livery an’ see can I hire Anthony for that piece of work.”
    â€œIf there is anything I can do . . .” Tyler sounded hopeful that there might be, but Longarm could think of nothing the man might be able to do that would be helpful. Not at the moment anyway. Perhaps he could come up with something later, though, if for no other reason than to let the local sheriff feel that he was being useful.
    â€œYou’ve already been a big help,” Longarm assured him.
    Tyler grunted his disbelief and took a swallow of his coffee.
    The livery was empty save for the livestock stabled there, and there was no note to indicate where Anthony DeCaro had gotten to. Still, Dwyer was not so big a town that a man could get lost