Longarm and the Sins of Laughing Lyle (9781101612101) Read Online Free
Author: Tabor Evans
spurred boots clicked madly on the wooden floor.
Suddenly, that was the only sound. It died quickly, and the Kid lay still.
Longarm looked around. The half-breed barman, Charlie Embers, and the three innocent waddies were out of sight behind the bar. Longarm could see only the Kid and Dix, both dead, and the whore, who lay slumped forward over her knees, head beneath her arms, her pale naked rump pointing at the ceiling.
Longarm looked at the stairs. Laughing Lyle was gone.
âEveryone stay down!â Longarm yelled as he stuffed his empty derringer into his vest pocket, then quickly knocked the spent loads out of his Coltâs wheel. The smoking brass casings clinked onto the floor and rolled.
Quickly, he reloaded the pistol from his shell belt and ran to the stairs.
Chapter 3
Longarm took the stairs three steps at a time and hurled himself onto the floor of the second-story hall. There were three doors on each side. At the end was a dirty window through which the gray light of dusk pushed through a torn red curtain.
Longarm shifted his gaze from one side of the hall to the other, from one closed door to the next. There appeared no way out of the second story save the stairs behind him. Laughing Lyle had to be up here somewhere, behind one of the six doors.
Longarm pushed slowly to his feet, straightening his long legs. Holding the cocked Colt out in front of him, he moved forward. He glanced at the first door on his left but then shifted his gaze back to the right. A smear of blood shone on the wainscoting on that side of the hall. There was another smear near the last door on the right, which opened suddenly.
A fist clenched around a gun handle was thrust through the opening, and then Laughing Lyleâs snarling countenance appeared above and behind it. The killer had Longarm dead to rights. The lawman threw himself sideways into the nearest closed door as Laughing Lyleâs pistol roared, stabbing smoke and flames.
The door gave easily beneath the lawmanâs muscular bulk, and Longarmâs momentum hurled him into the room. He hit the floor and rolled up against a brass-framed bed upon which a young blonde was cowering, bedcovers pulled up to her chin. Her eyes were wide as saucers.
âGet out!â she screamed. âGet out, you brigand! Leave me
alone!
â
Longarm pushed up on an elbow and swung his head toward the door just as Laughing Lyle appeared, long, thin blond hair dancing around under the killerâs bald, bullet-shaped pate, thick pink lips peeled back from large, square, grime-crusted teeth as he extended the Smithy once more.
Longarm raised the Colt. It danced and thundered twice. Laughing Lyle jerked back and fired his Colt into an oil painting on the wall to Longarmâs right, knocking the picture askew while the blonde screamed and writhed beneath her bedcovers. Laughing Lyle stumbled back out of sight, boots thumping on the hall floor.
Longarm pushed up off his right elbow, then winced as a throbbing pain lanced his arm. He fell back against the bed and looked at the aching wing. The sleeve of his frock coat was torn about six inches down from the shoulder, and blood oozed from the wound. One of Laughing Lyleâs bullets must have pinked him in the hall.
The loud boot thuds fell silent, only to be replaced by a bellowing laugh and the screech of breaking glass. Longarm scrambled to his feet and dashed into the hall just as a heavy
thud
and a grunt sounded outside the broken window. The red curtains fluttered in the breeze ebbing around the ragged shards.
Longarm ran to the window and looked down past a small, shake-shingled awning to see Laughing Lyle heaving himself to his feet in the yard, hefting a pair of bulging saddlebags over his shoulder.
The brigand lifted his chin toward Longarm. A shrewd smile plucked at his fat lips as he raised the pistol. Longarm jerked his head back behind the window as Laughing Lyleâs Colt barked twice, flinging lead
Suddenly, that was the only sound. It died quickly, and the Kid lay still.
Longarm looked around. The half-breed barman, Charlie Embers, and the three innocent waddies were out of sight behind the bar. Longarm could see only the Kid and Dix, both dead, and the whore, who lay slumped forward over her knees, head beneath her arms, her pale naked rump pointing at the ceiling.
Longarm looked at the stairs. Laughing Lyle was gone.
âEveryone stay down!â Longarm yelled as he stuffed his empty derringer into his vest pocket, then quickly knocked the spent loads out of his Coltâs wheel. The smoking brass casings clinked onto the floor and rolled.
Quickly, he reloaded the pistol from his shell belt and ran to the stairs.
Chapter 3
Longarm took the stairs three steps at a time and hurled himself onto the floor of the second-story hall. There were three doors on each side. At the end was a dirty window through which the gray light of dusk pushed through a torn red curtain.
Longarm shifted his gaze from one side of the hall to the other, from one closed door to the next. There appeared no way out of the second story save the stairs behind him. Laughing Lyle had to be up here somewhere, behind one of the six doors.
Longarm pushed slowly to his feet, straightening his long legs. Holding the cocked Colt out in front of him, he moved forward. He glanced at the first door on his left but then shifted his gaze back to the right. A smear of blood shone on the wainscoting on that side of the hall. There was another smear near the last door on the right, which opened suddenly.
A fist clenched around a gun handle was thrust through the opening, and then Laughing Lyleâs snarling countenance appeared above and behind it. The killer had Longarm dead to rights. The lawman threw himself sideways into the nearest closed door as Laughing Lyleâs pistol roared, stabbing smoke and flames.
The door gave easily beneath the lawmanâs muscular bulk, and Longarmâs momentum hurled him into the room. He hit the floor and rolled up against a brass-framed bed upon which a young blonde was cowering, bedcovers pulled up to her chin. Her eyes were wide as saucers.
âGet out!â she screamed. âGet out, you brigand! Leave me
alone!
â
Longarm pushed up on an elbow and swung his head toward the door just as Laughing Lyle appeared, long, thin blond hair dancing around under the killerâs bald, bullet-shaped pate, thick pink lips peeled back from large, square, grime-crusted teeth as he extended the Smithy once more.
Longarm raised the Colt. It danced and thundered twice. Laughing Lyle jerked back and fired his Colt into an oil painting on the wall to Longarmâs right, knocking the picture askew while the blonde screamed and writhed beneath her bedcovers. Laughing Lyle stumbled back out of sight, boots thumping on the hall floor.
Longarm pushed up off his right elbow, then winced as a throbbing pain lanced his arm. He fell back against the bed and looked at the aching wing. The sleeve of his frock coat was torn about six inches down from the shoulder, and blood oozed from the wound. One of Laughing Lyleâs bullets must have pinked him in the hall.
The loud boot thuds fell silent, only to be replaced by a bellowing laugh and the screech of breaking glass. Longarm scrambled to his feet and dashed into the hall just as a heavy
thud
and a grunt sounded outside the broken window. The red curtains fluttered in the breeze ebbing around the ragged shards.
Longarm ran to the window and looked down past a small, shake-shingled awning to see Laughing Lyle heaving himself to his feet in the yard, hefting a pair of bulging saddlebags over his shoulder.
The brigand lifted his chin toward Longarm. A shrewd smile plucked at his fat lips as he raised the pistol. Longarm jerked his head back behind the window as Laughing Lyleâs Colt barked twice, flinging lead
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