of the gal in the tan duster. It was none of Longarm's business until the rustic asked the lady if she'd like him to saucer and blow her hot chocolate.
The lady naturally didn't answer. Longarm put away some warm grub and washed it down with scalding java before the pest asked her how come she was so stuck up. The lady had already paid for her order on delivery, that being the Harvey way in a world where folks had a heap of trains to catch. So she only had to rise from the counter, pick up her overnight bag, and head for the door without even looking at the fool kid.
Longarm still didn't care. But then the pest jumped up to follow after her, asking if she needed help with her bag. It wasn't until he made a grab for it, causing the lady to trip and almost fall, that Longarm swung off his own stool to his considerable height and firmly announced, 'That's enough, cowboy. You've rode past flirty into scary, and I want you to leave that lady be.'
The Harvey gal behind him moaned, 'Oh, Lordy!' and went to get someone bigger from the kitchen as the lout in the big hat kept clinging to the traveling gal's baggage, growling, 'If I was you I'd be down on my knees in my sissy suit, praying for my life right now. For they call me Pronto, and the name is well deserved. You see what I'm packing in this tie-down holster, hero?'
Longarm regarded the other man's six-gun with detachment as he quietly replied, 'Looks like a single-action John Adams. I've always admired well-preserved antiques.'
Then he nodded at the lady in the tan travel duster and added, 'You just go on and catch your train, ma'am. Ain't nothing but some schoolyard bluster likely to take place around here. Let go her bag, cowboy. I mean it.'
The well-armed cuss let go of the overnight bag, but not as if it was because he'd been asked to. He dropped into a gunfighter's crouch as the lady lugged her baggage for the door. She was unable to keep from asking in a jeering tone, 'Do you boys stage this scene for all the girls, or just the ones from out of town?'
Then she was sweeping out the doorway, nose in the air, and only Longarm laughed. The would-be Texas badman who still seemed willing to fight over her asked uncertainly, 'What's she jawing about? Are we supposed to be up to something I never knew we were up to?'
Longarm nodded and said, 'Yep. She thought we took turns insulting gals in railroad depots so's we could take turns rescuing 'em. I can see how that might be a good way to meet women, once you study on it.'
The younger and obviously less -experienced cuss scowled at Longarm and insisted, 'Hold on! I never agreed to let you rescue her from me. I don't even know you. I thought I was out to rescue her from you!'
Longarm shrugged and said, 'Either way, she's gone and I got my own train to catch. So it's been nice talking to you, but like I said...'
'What about our showdown?' the depot desperado asked in a plaintive tone.
Longarm said, 'I'm sure you could find plenty of other young gents willing to shoot it out with you at this hour for no good reason. But the only quarrel betwixt us just dismissed us both as a pair of unskilled country boys, if we ever had a quarrel to begin with. Fighting over a woman is sort of dumb. Fighting over a woman who doesn't like you is just plain stupid.'
Longarm didn't wait to hear any counterargument. The depot loiterer wasn't crouched as tensely now, and while Longarm kept an eye on everyone as he circled for that same doorway, he was really more worried about the older-looking cuss who'd come from the kitchen in a cook's apron carrying a foot of carving knife.
Nobody drew or threw as he got out of range in the steamy light of the big depot. He'd only polished off a third of his chili and maybe half his coffee. But sure enough, his Saint Lou night train was fixing to pull out as he hurried along Track Number Four in the tricky light. Way down the platform, he saw that pretty but sort of snotty gal in the tan duster boarding one of the Pullman sleeping cars and staring his way, as if worried he was fixing to lope after her all the way to Saint Lou. He had no call to go on down and assure her he'd be getting off in the wee small hours. So he never did. He boarded a coach car carrying no more than that bulky manila envelope, and took a seat under an oil lamp to catch up on all those onionskins Henry had typed up for him not a full twelve hours earlier. Time sure could drag when you weren't having any fun.
As his train pulled out of the depot the Harvey night manager, who'd been watching through a door crack, came out from the back and said, 'That was close. I thought we had your word you'd start no more trouble if we let you have free coffee, Pronto.'
The kid with a hat and gun a mite big for him returned to the counter with a smirk, saying, 'I wasn't looking for trouble. I was courting a lady fair when that jasper in the sissy suit horned in.'
The night manager said, 'That was no jasper in a sissy suit, you romantic young cuss. He's passed this way before. So I'm sure it was that deputy marshal they call Longarm!'
Pronto grinned and said, 'I backed him down, no matter who he thought he was. Polly here heard him say he didn't want to fight me and saw him go around me!'
The Harvey girl just looked confused. The manager said, 'I saw it all from the kitchen too. You're lucky to be alive, Pronto. Had he been anxious as some to run up his score, you'd have never stood a chance. For they say Longarm's taken on some of the fastest guns in both the East and West, and won easy!'
Pronto sneered, 'Don't care what anyone says about him. All I know is that I made him crawfish! Wait till I tell all the boys I backed down the famous Longarm in the flesh! Mayhaps then I'll get me some respect around Amarillo!'
The cook headed back for his kitchen with a snort of disgust. The night manager sighed and said, 'I wish you wouldn't brag too loud, Pronto. We try to run a decent place here, and gunfire can play bob with a customer's appetite!'
While they were talking, a brakeman off a night freight came in to take a seat at the far end of the counter. Pronto had that effect on the regulars around the Amarillo depot. The burly brakeman was a decent tipper who never got too fresh. So Polly moved quickly up the counter to serve him.
The newcomer naturally asked the Harvey gal what the argument at the far end might be about. Polly told him, 'Pronto's filled with himself just now because he thinks he backed down the famous lawman Longarm. You know how Pronto likes to glare at smoother-shaven gents. His victim was as likely a whiskey drummer as a famous gunfighter.'
The brakeman frowned thoughtfully and muttered 'Longarm, you say it might have been? That's funny. Someone on that night rattler crew from the north was just jawing about some little squirt in seersucker chasing that same Longarm out of the Denver depot at a dead run!'
