recover.
Longarm hit him again. And again. Denton weighed in at least fifty pounds heavier than Longarm, who was not about to give the marshal a chance to recover. The crowd parted like the Red Sea as Longarm drove Denton into a retreat across the depot floor. Each time the marshal tried to plant his feet and retaliate, Longarm's fist hammered his jaw or turned his big gut to jelly. Denton's nose cracked and flowed heavily. His lips were soon mashed to pulp, and one of his eyebrows was ripped by a slashing right uppercut. He was grunting with each blow, and when Longarm drew back and smashed him one final time, Denton flew off the baggage loading dock and landed on his back between two carriages waiting for hire.
'You all right, Marshal?' Longarm asked, flexing his fingers and then massaging his bruised knuckles as he gazed down at the man.
Denton wasn't all right. Longarm's blows had left his face a misshapen mass of welts and bruises. Furthermore, though his fall from the loading dock hadn't been a long one, only about four feet, the impact of his landing had emptied the last bit of oxygen from Denton's lungs. Bloodied, dazed, and unable to get his breath, Marshal Denton was a tragic sight as he lay between two spooked carriage horses who snorted and rolled their eyes in fear and suspicion.
'Tell you what,' Longarm said. 'I'll be along after I get Miss Greenwald settled. Okay?'
When Denton groaned, Longarm took that as a yes. 'Okay,' he said with a smile.
Longarm turned and walked back to the schoolteacher from Grover City, Iowa. 'Doesn't look like anyone is going to be coming to meet YOU.'
'No,' Veronica said, trying to hide her disappointment. She pulled a letter from her purse and unfolded it. 'This letter confirming my job was written by the principal of the Washoe School, a Mr. Arnold. He said to telegraph him when I'd arrive and he'd be sure that he was on hand to greet me.'
'Well,' Longarm said, sensing how badly the young woman felt, 'maybe Mr. Arnold had a sudden emergency and couldn't get here on time. What's the address of the Washoe School?'
'It's on South Virginia Street.'
'Heck,' Longarm said with a smile, as he picked up his Winchester and baggage. 'That'll be easy to find! Virginia is Reno's main street. Come along with me and I'll show you the town as we walk on down to meet your new employer.'
Veronica brightened. 'You are such a comfort! But did you really have to beat the living bee-jeezus out of that big, fat lawman?'
Longarm shrugged. 'Well,' he said, 'I had a feeling that he was about to hit me so I needed to wallop him first. A rough fella like that will just knock you silly if he gets in the first good punch. So I wasn't taking any chances because he looked like a brawler. Truth of the matter is, I've had enough good whippings to last three lifetimes.'
'You don't strike me as being the kind of man that anyone could whip, Custis.'
'Well, that's not exactly true,' he confessed as he led Veronica through the crowd and off toward Virginia Street. 'One thing I learned at least ten years ago is that there are plenty of bigger and stronger men. When I was young, I didn't give a damn how big my opponent was, I'd wade in and stand toe to toe.'
Longarm shook his head, remembering some of the awful poundings he'd taken when he was young and foolish enough to think that it was worth taking a beating in order to administer an even worse one.
'But you know, Veronica, after a few years and some broken bones and loose teeth, I learned my lesson. Now, I hit first and I hit hard. And if that doesn't work, I'm not averse to pistol-whipping some raging fool who needs a lesson in manners.'
'I don't know how you are going to get back in good graces with that man.'
'Maybe I won't,' Longarm said, 'but he won't likely be trying to boss me around anymore.'
On the way down Virginia Street, Longarm explained how Reno had once been called Lake's Crossing, and had been a favorite resting place for the emigrant wagon trains that were about to struggle over the Sierras into the promise of a verdant California. The tragic Donner Party had made the mistake of resting their livestock too long, and then had suffered the consequences of their delay. Later, the builder of the Central Pacific Railroad, Charles Crocker, had renamed the town in honor of General Jesse Reno, a Union officer killed in 1862 by Indians. Since the discovery of the enormous bonanza on the Comstock, tons of gold and silver had been shipped down to Reno and sent both east and west on the railroad.
'This here is the Truckee River,' Longarm said as they crossed the river that flowed through the town. 'It spills out of Lake Tahoe, which is as pretty an alpine lake as there is in this country.'
'I'd love to visit it someday-'
'I'll take you the first chance we get,' Longarm promised. 'I swear that the water is as clear as your skin and as blue as your eyes. You can see rocks fifty feet under the surface.'
'It sounds magnificent.'
'It is.' Longarm stopped for a moment on the bridge. He dropped his bags, leaned his big Winchester up against the bridge railing, then gently but firmly turned Veronica around and drew her close.
Her eyebrows lifted. 'What are you doing?'
'i'm going to kiss you good-bye,' Longarm said thumbing back his Stetson and grinning impishly. 'You see, once we are at that school and we meet your new boss, I won't be able to do that without embarrassing you.'
'You've got that figured right.'
'So,' Longarm said, 'I'm kissing you now. Right here on the bridge in the middle of this town with all these folks watching. Veronica, I want this to be a kiss that you will never forget as long as you live.'
'I already know that I won't forget it,' she said, dropping her own bag and valise, then melting into his arms.
Longarm had kissed a lot of girls, but Veronica Greenwald was second to none. Her lips were soft and yielding,
