sayinâ youâre goinâ in one.â
âYou want me to do it or shall I take him down there myself. Or maybe we oughta just shoot him right here and be done with it,â suggested the lawman, who seemed to be enjoying himself. âWhy waste food and manpower on âim?â
âCanât argue with your logic, but since Iâm a lawman and not a hangman, I reckon weâll have to feed him till I leave here, which I hope is soon.â Longarm helped Goldie out of the saddle. When the man stood slumped before him, sort of leaning against the dun, the federal lawman added, âDonât like the idea of gettinâ caught up here for the winter.â
âOne good snowstorm is all itâd take to seal the passes,â the local lawman warned.
âAny strangers in town?â
âI ainât seen none but the folks who rode in a half hour agoâthe mucky-mucks over yonder. Said they was part of some generalâs party. Donât recollect the name. Just that one was a right well put together young lady.â The local badge toter grinned, showing large, yellow teeth beneath his mustache.
Longarm gave Goldie a shove toward the porch steps. âLetâs go, Goldie. You know the drill. Any fast moves and I blow out your spine.â
âI wanna know what hole Iâm beinâ dropped into,â Goldie complained as he walked heavily up the porch steps.
The lawman opened the door and stepped back, grinning his malicious grin around the quirley in his teeth. âCome on, son. Iâll show you.â
Holding his rifle on Goldie, Longarm followed the outlaw into the dingy, smoky office. As the local lawman stepped in behind him, a man sitting at a desk against the front wall dropped his clodhopper boots to the floor with a
boom!
A big man to go with his boots, he jerked a shotgun up with a start, eyes blazing in deep, fur-mantled sockets.
âEmil!â The local lawman admonished the man, his deep voice echoing off the officeâs rock walls. âPut the greener down and fetch the doc!â
The big man in the chair eyed Longarm and Goldie suspiciously. His eyes were as gray as the window above the cluttered desk before him. He wore a fur hat from which curly, light brown hair curled. His face was the size of a serving tray and weathered as raw as the local lawmanâs. This manâs was also bearded, with strands of gray showing among the sandy brown. Still awakening from the nap heâd apparently been enjoying, he set the greener across the desk and rose from the chair.
He kept on rising until his head would have smacked the seven-foot ceiling if he hadnât stooped. Longarm had seen smaller bears. This man smelled like a bear, tooâfresh from his den in his ratty bear coat that hung to the tops of his worn black boots.
The giant again scrutinized the newcomers, his nostrils working as though sniffing prospective prey.
âGuests, Emil,â the local lawman said wryly. âWe have guests.â
Emil pointed at Goldieâs bloody shoulder. âWhat happened?â he said in a voice deeper than the local lawmanâs. It came out like a growl, the giant sort of grunting the oddly accented words. He was likely one of the original Romanian settlers.
âWolf-bit,â Longarm said.
The giantâs anvil-sized lower jaw started to sag before he caught it, his eyes brightening with apprehension as he looked at the town marshal flanking Longarm and Goldie.
âThe doc, Emil!â his boss repeated.
Emil jerked with a start. He was like a mountain moving in an earthquake. He stepped wide around Longarm, Goldie, and the town marshal, keeping his eyes on Goldie as though afraid the outlaw would try to tear his throat out. He fumbled the door open and went out, drawing it closed behind him.
âWhat the hell is his problem?â Goldie said.
The local lawman curled his nose at the outlaw as he stepped around him and