Free Longarm and the Stagecoach Robbers by Tabor Evans Page B

long enough to have a smoke before joining Charlie and her aversion to smoking then returned to the Carver office and Charlie’s living quarters in the back.
    Charlie greeted him with a kiss and a glass of whiskey.
    â€œMy two favorite things,” he told her in response. Looking over Charlie’s shoulder, he asked, “Is he here?”
    Charlie shook her head. “No, but he promised me that he will be. If you don’t mind, we should wait dinner for him. I have the table set for three and, well, I would just like to wait a little while. I know he will come.”
    â€œOf course we can wait,” Longarm said. “But I tell you what. I’d like t’ have another o’ those kisses and maybe another whiskey, too. Can you manage that?”
    Charlie smiled and pressed herself against him, delivering a kiss that nearly sucked his tongue out of his mouth. And did get a good bit of it into her mouth.
    â€œAfter dinner,” she promised, her voice husky with desire.
    Then she plucked his glass out of his hand and went to refill it.
    Charlie stepped into her kitchen—or what passed for one in the living quarters—and began fussing with whatever was in the pot, so Longarm took his whiskey out to the front porch, where he could smoke without annoying the lady.
    He was on his second cigar and his belly was rumbling with hunger when Charlie came outside. She sniffed the air and moved around to the upwind side of him.
    â€œThis isn’t like Will,” she said. “He promised, and Will always keeps his word. I don’t know what could be keeping him. He is so late now that our dinner is ruined. It won’t be fit to eat.”
    Longarm smiled and took her hand. “Darlin’, you would be amazed at some of the stuff I’ve had to eat, like when I’m trailin’ somebody and don’t have no chance to buy proper grub. Proves I can eat ’most anything, so don’t you be worrying about that. D’you have any idea what could’ve held him up this long?”
    â€œNo, I really don’t. Custis, would you . . . I hate to ask you this, but could you stop at Maybelle’s, um, house? He might be there.”
    â€œWhy would you think that, if you don’t mind me askin’?” Longarm said.
    â€œHe took some money from the box this morning, and I know that his rent is not due. That usually means he intends to visit the girls at Maybelle’s,” she said.
    Longarm laughed. “You know the boy better’n he realizes, don’t you?”
    â€œI’m his mother, Custis. Of course I know him better than anyone.” She smiled. “Including himself. Would you mind going over there?”
    â€œSure, no problem,” he said, standing and stretching.
    â€œOne thing, though,” Charlie said.
    â€œMmm?”
    â€œDon’t you
dare
get involved with those girls.”
    Longarm gave her a lingering kiss and said, “Not a chance. Not with what I got waitin’ for me back here tonight.” He gave her butt a quick squeeze and stepped down off the porch to head for Maybelle’s house of ill repute.

Chapter 35
    House of ill repute might be what a whorehouse was called in polite company, but that reputation did not curb their popularity. This one was certainly popular. When Longarm got there, Maybelle’s was packed. Miners, businessmen, and cowhands crowded the place, everyone trying to talk at once, and the girls snatched up and sent back to their rooms—not alone—as soon as they set foot into the parlor.
    â€œMarshal Long. How nice to see you in our happy home,” a painted older woman, presumably Maybelle herself, said when Longarm walked in. He was not at all surprised that the woman knew who he was. A woman in this business would make it her business to know everything that went on around her.
    â€œMy pleasure,” he said, tipping his hat and bowing slightly. “Though I