over later as he told her, "You'd do better if you sold all this paper to the junk man next time he comes along the alley, ma'am. You're right about your brother amassing at least a few dollars' worth of pulp paper, here. It must have cost him a mite more, buying 'em one at a time."
She said, "It did. I don't mind telling you it was a bone of contention between my brother and my late husband. Joseph just couldn't resist those silly silly stories about cowboys and Mans and, since we were supporting him ..."
"It could have been more expensive if he'd drank a lot," Longarm observed. "Did he?"
She shook her head. "No. Tom often said he'd have more respect for an idler with more manly bad habits. Joseph didn't do much of anything but mope about up here. Tom said it made him more nervous than if he'd played with matches and girls."
Longarm nodded understandingly. "Tom would be your late husband, Thomas Banes of the Denver Dry Goods Company. I know these are hurtful questions, but there was nothing on the police records as to how your man happened to pass away."
She said, "I've grown used to answering that. Tom had heart trouble. He died at work. Joseph couldn't have had anything to do with it, if that's what you-"
Longarm raised an eyebrow. "It wasn't. I already knew your man threw your brother out and that he was in the army miles from here, at the time. But did they really get along that badly?"
She shrugged. "Not really. They tended to avoid one another as much as they could. Tom didn't even use his workshop next door, toward the end. I don't mind saying meals were eaten in grim silence until one night Joseph asked me for more money and Tom just clouded up and rained all over him. There might have been a fight, had poor Joseph had the spunk. For I fear Tom called him just about every name in the book before he got up, told me he didn't want to see my so-and-so spoiled baby brother on his property when he got back, and stormed out to do Lord knows what. It was two whole days before Tom came back, unshaven and hung-over, to ask if I had any good news to tell him."
"What did you tell him, Miss Flora?"
"That Joseph was gone, of course. A woman's husband has to come first, and I knew the two of them could never dwell under the same roof again after such words had been exchanged. I did give Joseph some money, and he promised to find a means of self-support. That was easier said than done. He joined the army and the rest you know."
Longarm nodded and said, "Then he found out your husband had died and figured you couldn't stand up to him alone. Did you even try, ma'am?"
She nodded grimly and put her broom aside to unbutton her bodice calmly. As Longarm stared in wonder she opened the front of her dress. He tried to ignore her small but perky breasts as he Stared at the ugly green and purple bruise marks between them. She said, "Joseph did this when I asked him to leave again a few days ago. You'll have to take MY word about where he kicked me after I fell down."
Longarm grimaced. "A man who'd punch a woman so hard would kick her most anywhere, I reckon. Since you brung it up, and I know as a lawman just how ugly family disputes can get, I have another mighty indelicate question I have to ask."
She buttoned back up as she shook her head. "No. He never tried to mistreat me that way. I'm not sure he was too interested in any girls, and he always hated me when we were growing up together."
He nodded and said, "I'm missing something here, ma'am. From all the testimony you and everyone else seems to agree on, I'll be switched if I can see how come you've been so nice to even a kid brother all these years."
She shrugged. "It wasn't easy. Joseph was always a sullen little brute. But he was kin. He had nobody else to turn to after our folk died. I'd just married Tom and he was very sweet about it, until Joseph just stayed on and on, contributing nothing but trouble and an extra mouth to feed."
He'd already heard all that. Longarm