Longarm in Hell's Half Acre Read Online Free

piece of twine, then handed it to the deputy. “Just don’t drop ’em, Rudy,” he said. “Try not to accidentally bash ’em up against anything. Them detonators are sensitive and prone to explode if abused in any fashion whatsoever. You understand, son?”
    Crabtree nodded, as though in a trance, took the rough parcel, gingerly slipped it into the saddlebag on his own animal, then climbed aboard. He grasped the reins between fingers that trembled and said, “Guess I’d best get goin’. I’ll fire a shot from the rim, wave my hat or somethin’, soon’s I get situated in a place where I think I can do the most damage. So you boys be on the lookout. Don’t want to surprise you by settin’ this stuff off ’fore you’re ready.”
    Longarm slapped the boy on the leg. “Sounds good. Just be careful. This ugly hairball’s gonna work out just fine once you drop one of those big poppers on Calico Jack’s head.”
    Longarm, Marshal Court, and his remaining posse, along with an increasingly antsy Skunk Hornbuckle, watched until Deputy Rudy Crabtree disappeared into the trees back up the overgrown trail toward the Purgatoire.
    Court snatched off his hat and slapped his leg with it. He shrugged, stuffed the hat back on, then said, “Well, whatta we do now, Marshal Long?”
    Longarm turned. He gazed around the campsite, along behind the line of sheltering boulders, up to the cabin and the canyon wall, then back to the campsite. “We spread out behind these rocks and, every once in a while, take a potshot at Jack’s log-and-mud sanctuary. Just to keep him on his toes. Make him think somethin’s about to happen. Want the man nervous and expectant.”
    â€œHell, we already been a-doin’ that all along,” Rader grumped, then levered a live round into the chamber of his Winchester.
    â€œAnd he usually answers back with a well-aimed blast of his own,” Potts added. “Murderin’ son of a bitch ain’t took no stuff off’n us, so far, Marshal Long. He’s got the high ground and knows it. That’s for damned sure. Go and stick your head out from behind any of these rocks, and he’ll blow it off. Man’s a helluva good shot, if’n you ask me.”
    â€œAny place where I can safely get a look?” Longarm asked.
    Court pointed to a spot behind a split boulder secluded behind several leaning cottonwoods. “Over there, Marshal. Don’t think he can see through the leaves. You get a pretty good view up the slope.”
    Longarm snatched the army surplus binoculars off his saddle and started for the trees. As he passed Skunk Hornbuckle, he stopped and said, “Took them leg irons off and put you in handcuffs so you could ride a horse, Skunk. Now I’m gonna take these irons off your wrists so you can have coffee and take care of your twa-let, if necessary. But try to run on me and you know what’ll happen, don’t you?”
    Hornbuckle rubbed his wrists, hung his head, then grumbled, “Yeah, yeah, yeah, Long, I know. You’ll shoot the hell outta me. Make damned sure I’m pushin’ up bluebonnets ’fore the sun goes down. Don’t have to go a-worryin’ yerself none on my account. I ain’t a-goin’ nowheres.” The outlaw glanced at his confined surroundings, then said, “Country ’round these parts is so cramped and rough, I probably wouldn’t get a hundred feet ’fore you kilt me deader’n a drowned cat.”
    Longarm heeled it for the trees. Over his shoulder he snapped, “Good thinkin’, Skunk. Mr. Rader, you and Mr. Potts find a nice spot. Throw a few shots up Jack’s way. Blue whizzer or two here and there’ll do just fine. No need to waste ammunition. Just want a get him stirred up a bit.”
    A few minutes later, with Harley Court breathing down his neck, Longarm leaned against the base of a