He had to look away as he softly added, 'This afternoon I seem out to earn every penny Uncle Sam pays me!' For while her winking rosebud rectum was only interesting, the bawdy bitch had a downright pretty pussy, and she must have known how rare that was, judging by the way she was winking that at him as well, in alternate contractions of her obviously well-trained love muscles.
He lowered his eyes back to the file in his lap, but it was tough to make much sense as he sat there reading with a raging erection while Elvira begged him to let her take care of it for him.
Then somebody knocked on the door and the big blonde was running into the bedroom, snatching up her summer frock as she tore past the arm of that sofa. So Longarm rose to answer the knock on the hall door as she slammed the door behind him.
It turned out to be Smiley and Dutch from his own outfit. Deputy Smiley never smiled. Smiley was the family name of the otherwise morose breed.
Nobody could pronounce the High Dutch name that went with Smiley's shorter, more cheerful-looking, but deadly sidekick. So everyone called him Dutch, and he didn't seem upset about that. Longarm knew Marshal Vail always sent them out as a team to get the work of one well-balanced deputy out of them. Smiley was a good tracker who tended to walk into traps with his eyes on the trail, while Dutch, who could have doubtless shot his way out of the Alamo back in '36, seemed to need the guidance of an older and less ferocious pard to keep him from gunning the wrong folks.
Longarm allowed he was a mite surprised to see them so soon in his own tour of guard duty. Smiley said, 'The boss has something else for you to do back at the Federal Building. He said you're not to stop off at the Parthenon on your way back.'
Longarm said, 'I won't. Did old Billy say what he wanted me for?'
Smiley shook his head. 'Nope. He gets pissed when you question his orders. He just told us to take Over for you here and send you back to him on the double. Is there anything me and Dutch ought to know about this witness gal we're supposed to be riding herd on?'
Longarm started to say she was just a whore with unusually wild ways. Then he frowned thoughtfully and said, 'I'll tell you better in a minute. After I present you to the lady.'
It wasn't that easy. Longarm had to knock more than once before the big buxom blonde came out, fully dressed with her hair piled more primly atop her head, and demurely howdied Smiley and Dutch in turn. She sat back on that sofa and behaved as if butter wouldn't have melted in her mouth as Longarm explained the change in plans.
Then Longarm grabbed his hat and coat and signaled Smiley to step out in the hall with him as he was putting them on. He warned the hatchet-faced breed, 'Something's up. She was just now offering me all three ways for free. Yet now she's gone all ladylike, or at least like a whore who ain't about to give nothing away just to be friendly.'
Smiley shrugged and grumbled, 'It's no secret you're more of a ladies' man than me, or even Dutch.'
Longarm modestly but sensibly insisted, 'I ain't that pretty. I just told you she's On record as a trail-town whore, and I repeat she was offering to take me on a heap for nothing. Meaning she had something in mind. You know why I don't expect her to make you two gents the same kind offer?'
'You don't have to rub it in,' Smiley said.
'It ain't that the two of you are too ugly for a trail-town whore. It's because there's two of you!'
Smiley looked doubtful and remarked, 'Oh, I dunno. They say Silver Heels used to take on a dozen or more men a night, and Silver Heels was more refined than your average whore.'
Longarm nodded. 'She ain't reluctant to take on the two of you because it would be undignified. She'd likely feel it would be a waste of frigid effort because there's no way to get the drop on two separate gunfighters screwing one gal in turn.'
Smiley scowled and demanded, 'Who in thunder do you suspect of having that sort of sneaky stunt in mind, pard?'
Longarm shrugged. 'She never told me. But try her this way. Say she made that deal with the prosecution just to get her own sassy ass out of the sling. Say that now that she's had time to calm down and size up the situation, she's decided she'd as soon not bother with appearing in court against her pals. So say she and some other pals we never caught are planning for her to leave the prosecution one less witness?'
Smiley thought. 'Make as much sense for them to just kill her. Where in these United States could a striking blonde like that one duck a serious federal warrant?'
'After dying her striking hair? How would you like me to list 'em, alphabetic or numerical? For all we know they plan on killing her, albeit I'm sure they only suggested a train trip of a hundred miles or more.'
He left his frock coat open as he consulted his pocket watch. 'I'd best get going. You boys are in charge of her now. But if it was still me on duty here, I'd be keeping my eyes peeled for some slickery.'
Smiley stepped back inside. Longarm headed for the same stairs he'd come up only a short spell back. Then he reconsidered and ambled back to the rear stairwell, more for practice than anything else. He'd checked into this particular hotel before, although later in the evening and in more of a hurry, lest the gal cool off while he signed them in. So he'd never taken the time to explore all the ways in or out, and a man just never could be sure there might not be some future time when an alternate escape route might save him from another guest smoking in bed or an irate husband prowling the halls in the dark.
He didn't find the back stairs all that astounding as he followed them down to the ground floor. Once there, he found himself in the service hallway leading from an alley entrance to the lobby out the other way. He tried the alley door. He saw anyone could leave at any time, but had to knock if he aimed to enter. He shrugged and headed for the lobby to leave the more dignified way. As a paid-up man-hunter Longarm was hardly aware of his actions as he paused in the shadows of the archway out to the lobby to determine just who else might be on the premises at the moment.
He saw that aside from the clerk there were three gents lolling in the lobby. Two of them were seedy older men who looked as if they were just waiting around for the rest of their lives to unravel. The third man was far younger and seemed as proddy as a schoolmarm on her wedding night.
The squirming cuss in that far corner chair was wearing high-heeled riding boots, a telescoped black Stetson, and a shoulder holster along with his seersucker summer suit. There was no federal law against squirming in one's
