Tabor Evans Read Online Free Page B

out somebody to ride with you and see that you get to Choteau safe and sound?"
    "Of course I will. I think it's very thoughtful of you to offer to help me." Maidia hesitated for a moment. "I'm afraid I owe you an apology, Marshal. I misjudged your actions earlier--not that I approve of them, you understand--but I'm beginning to see that the standards I've been judging things by can't always be applied to this part of the country."
    "You don't need to apologize," Longarm assured her. "And meaning no offense again, you sound a lot smarter now than you did when you were ripping me up one side and down the other for what I done. But that's put behind us, I guess?"
    "Yes, I guess it is," she agreed.
    "Good. Now, if we're going to be comfortable tonight, I've got to look after some camp chores. The first one's to get rid of him." Longarm nodded at the corpse. "And then I'll see what I can rustle up in the way of some supper." Keeping her eyes off the body, Maidia said, "You do what's necessary. I don't know much about cooking over a campfire, but I'll help you as much as I can in getting dinner ready."
    Longarm dragged the late Jasper to the grave that had been intended for Maidia Harkness. He went through the man's pockets before covering the grave, but found nothing in them that would help identify him, just a few dollars in silver, some crumpled currency, and the usual oddments: a jackknife, a sack of Bull Durham tobacco and cigarette papers, matches, a dollar discount token from a Fort Smith whorehouse, and a gold tooth that he speculated must have come from some past victim. He took off the dead man's gunbelt and carried it back to the fire.
    "You generally carry a bandbox or something like that, don't you?"
    Longarm asked Maidia.
    "Of course."
    Longarm handed her the pistol. "Here. Put this someplace handy when you get around to it. Later on, you can swap it for something a little more a lady's size."
    Maidia pulled back. "A pistol? Oh, not- Why, I couldn't carry a weapon, Marshal. Even if I felt that I could bring myself to carry one, I don't know how to shoot it."
    "You can learn. I can teach you all you need to know in ten minutes. The rest is just practicing."
    "No, Marshal Long. I'm sure your intentions are good-"
    "Now, you listen to me, Miss Harkness. It's like you said yourself a minute ago. What you're used to from back East don't cut the mustard out here. You ain't going to find a policeman on every streetcorner that you can look to for help When you need it. Coming right down to cases, you're apt to be in places where there's not even any streetcorners for a policeman to stand on. Now, you do what I tell you. Take this Colt and learn which end the bullets come out of."
    Gingerly, Maidia extended her hand and took the weapon. She almost dropped it when Longarm let go of the gunbelt. "My goodness! It's a lot heavier than I thought it would be."
    "Part of that's the belt and cartridges. But a gun's going to be heavy, got to be. I'll show you a little bit about it later on. Right now, we better get some grub together before both of us starve."
    "I know there's supposed to be some food on the pack mule," Maidia said. "But I'm not sure what kind of food. I told you I'm not very good at camp cooking, but I'll do What I can to help you."
    Rummaging in the packsaddle together, they found a large chunk of beef loin, a half-side of bacon, a dozen or so potatoes, and several big white onions. In small cloth bags, they discovered flour, sugar, black-eyed peas, ground coffee, salt and pepper. There were also a few cans of tomatoes and peaches, a battered frying pan, and a large tin coffeepot. A cylinder of tattered rags had at its core an unlabeled bottle. Longarm pulled the cork and sniffed.
    "Whiskey," he told Maidia. "Either keg stuff, or out of a still on one of the whiskey ranches hereabout. Might be all right, might not be fit to drink. Well take it along and find out."
    "At least we won't go to bed hungry," Maidia said,