“Maybe I better, if it’s all the same to you.”
Longarm was still carrying his Winchester. He tilted the muzzle skyward, levered a shell into the chamber and fired in the air before the sergeant knew what he intended to do. Two of the horses at the corral’s center reared, three others bolted for the fence. Most of those that had been fence-walking either reared or bucked. The gray was among the handful that had not reacted to the shot. Longarm studied the dapple through slatted eyes. A light horse made a man stand out more than a roan or chestnut would, but he told himself that could be both good and bad. He pointed to the animal.
“I’ll take the gray, if he stands up to a closer look. Bring him over and let me check him out,” he told the sergeant.
“WelL now, I’m sorry, Mr. Long. That’s the only one I can’t let you have.”
“Why not? Is he officer’s property?”
“Well, yes and no.”
“Make up your mind, Flanders. Either he is or he ain’t.”
“He ain’t exactly officer’s property, Mr. Long. Thing is, Miz Stanley, that’s Lieutenant Stanley’s lady, she’s took a liking to Tordo, there. Rides him just about every afternoon. She’d be mighty riled if I was to…”
“This lieutenant don’t own the horse?”
“No, sir. Except, we was going to ship Tordo up to Leavenworth for their bandsmen, seeing we got no band here, and the lieutenant stopped us because his lady’d took a shine to the nag.”
“I suppose Miz Stanley’d be just as well off if she got her exercise on another horse, wouldn’t she?”
“No, sir. Begging your pardon, Mr. Long, she’d want Tordo.”
“Happens I want him, too. He’s the best-looking of that bunch out there. Bring him here and let me check him over. You can give the lieutenant’s lady my regrets next time she wants to ride.”
Longarm’s tone carried an authority that the sergeant was quick to recognize. He opened his mouth once, as though to argue further, but the deputy’s steel-blue eyes were narrowed now, and the soldier knew he was looking at a man whose mind was made up. Reluctantly, the sergeant walked over to the gray and put a hand on its army-clipped mane. He walked back to where Longarm stood waiting. The horse, obedient to the light pressure of the man’s hand on its neck, walked, step for step, with the sergeant.
“Seems to be real biddable,” Longarm commented.
“Tordo’s a good horse, Mr. Long. Can’t say I blame you for picking him out.”
Longarm checked the gelding with an expert’s quick, seemingly casual glances. Teeth, eyes, spine, cannons, hooves were all sound. His inspection lasted barely three minutes but when it was completed Longarm was satisfied with the choice he’d made.
“He’ll do, sergeant. Make out the form for me to sign while I’m saddling him. Or is this the kind of post where I got to find a commissioned man for that?”
“No, sir. Most of the officers are out on a field exercise, anyhow. I’ve got the papers over yonder in the stable. I’ll have ‘em ready by the time you’re ready to ride. If you don’t want to bother saddling him, I’ll call a trooper to do it for you.”
“I’d as soon do it myself, Flanders. You take care of the requisition form.”
Longarm saddled the dapple with the same economy of motion that marked all his actions. He’d finished cinching the girth and had sheathed his Winchester in the scabbard that angled back from the right-hand saddle fender and was knotting the last rawhide string around his bedroll when a woman’s voice spoke behind him.
“I don’t know who you are, but that’s my horse you’re saddling.”
Without turning around, Longarm replied, “No, ma’am. It’s the U.S. Government’s horse.”
“Don’t be insolent! Take that saddle off at once and find yourself another mount! I’m ready for my afternoon canter.”
Longarm turned around. He doffed his Stetson as he spoke. “Beg pardon, ma’am, but I ain’t about to do that. I need this one in my work.”
“Just who are you? And what kind of work do you do?”
“I’m Custis Long, ma’am. Deputy U.S. Marshal from Denver. And I’m on a case, which is all I need to say, I guess.” Longarm realized he was speaking arbitrarily, which wasn’t his usual way with a woman, but this one was being just too damned high-handed.
His abrupt manner surprised and puzzled her; that was clear from the expression on her face. Longarm took the moment of silence to inspect her. He wondered if she kept one full black eyebrow higher than the other when she wasn’t angry. But she wasn’t what you’d call pretty, he decided; her features were just a mite too irregular. Her nose arched abruptly from the full brows down to wide nostrils now flared with displeasure. Her lips were compressed, but that didn’t hide the fact that they were on the full side. Her chin was thrust out aggressively. Her eyes were dark, and her hair was dark, too. It was caught up in ringlets that dropped down the back of her neck to her shoulders.
She was wearing a cavalry trooper’s regulation campaign hat, although it didn’t have the regulation four dents in its crown. A soft, plain white blouse was pulled tightly over upthrust breasts. Her feet, in gloss-polished riding boots were spread apart to show that she was wearing a split riding skirt that dropped nearly to her ankles. Her hands were planted on her hips, and from one wrist a riding crop dangled by its looped thong.
Longarm’s unconcealed inspection didn’t cause her to drop her eyes or seem to embarrass her. When she found her voice, she said, “Mr. Long, there are ten or fifteen other horses over there in the corral. One of them will be just as satisfactory as Tordo for your use.”
“I’m sorry if it makes you mad, ma’am, but the plain fact of it is, where I’m heading for, my life might depend on me having the best horse I can throw my saddle on.”
