Longarm thought that this wasn’t a bad suggestion, but he was in such a damn big hurry. Lives depended on him reaching the members of the Marble Gang before they were ambushed or executed by The Assassin. And Geezer, while he was a steady and willing enough mule, was slow. Longarm had been thinking of leaving the mule behind anyway.
“Tell you what,” he answered. “Irma, as I recall, you’re a pretty good horsewoman.”
“I am,” she said proudly.
“So why don’t you stay here a few days while Target’s rock bruise heals, then have Joe saddle up Geezer for you to ride to Denver. You can jockey the palomino back there and wait for my return.”
“Sure, I can do that,” Irma said. “You’ll just need to give me a key to your place and tell me where to deliver the horse and the mule.”
“Okay,” Longarm said, relieved to have a workable solution, “that’s what we’ll do—providing Joe here doesn’t try to skin me too bad on a replacement mount.”
“I’ll make sure of that,” Irma said, stepping in close to the young blacksmith and slipping an arm around his waist. “You wouldn’t want to make a little trade, would you, honey?”
He stuttered, then blurted out, “Miss Irma, you mean trade a piece of you for a horse?”
“A little loving for a very good, very cheap horse for my friend.”
Joe gulped. He couldn’t keep his eyes off the swell of Irma’s breasts and his chin began to wag up and down. He appeared ready to drool.
“Yeah, Miss Irma, I think we can work out something that will make everyone real happy!”
“I thought maybe we could,” she said, wrinkling her nose and batting her eyelashes.
Longarm felt a moment’s passing annoyance. He was a mite jealous, but then reminded himself that Irma was just being Irma. Maybe she’d never change, even if some man did marry her and give her the respectability she needed so badly. Longarm didn’t know, and right now he didn’t particularly care. With Irma’s help, he’d get a good replacement horse at a reasonable price. In addition, he would be done with Target and his quirks and free of the truculent mule as well. It seemed to him that everything was about to work out just fine.
“I better show you what I have in the way of good horses to loan,” Joe said. “Come on back to my corral.”
Irma beamed with triumph, but Longarm chose not to respond. Instead, he followed Joe back to a corral, where there were seven or eight horses, most of them sorry-looking.
“What do you think?” Joe asked. “Every one of them is well shod and sound.”
“I’m not too impressed,” Longarm said bluntly. “I don’t see a single horse in your corral that looks as if it could shake its own thin shadow.”
“What do you mean?”
“These look to me to be Ute Indian ponies. Scrubs.” Longarm turned away, saying, “I’m on a manhunt, Joe. I have to be well mounted. My life and those of some others might well depend on it.”
“All right, all right!” Joe overtook him. “You can use my personal mount. And I’ll tell you something, Mr. Long. I never loan him out to just anyone.”
“Well,” Longarm replied, “if it makes you feel any better, I’ve never loaned Irma out to anyone either.”
Irma threw back her head and laughed. “Well, that’s sure the gospel truth! And I wouldn’t even let you do it now if Joe here wasn’t so handsome.”
The compliment might have caused some men pleasure, but Joe just blushed all the deeper. Longarm took mercy on him by saying, “All right, let me see your horse.”
“He’s in the barn,” Joe said. “Follow me.”
Joe’s horse was a paint, not Longarm’s favorite choice of colors, but it really was a fine animal. He was a little jug-headed, but deep in the chest, with long, straight legs and a fine conformation.
“He goes like a locomotive,” Joe said proudly. “He’ll just keep huffing and puffing. Never slows down or gives up. You can hunt man or beast off of him, and he ground-ties. He’ll pack meat and he’s as sure-footed as a mountain goat. He can go days without rest or damn little feed and he doesn’t bite, nor kick, nor buck.”
“I’ll take him,” Longarm said. “What’s his name?”
“Splash.”
“Fair enough,” Longarm said. “Saddle Splash and I’ll tie what supplies I can behind the cantle and then be on my way.”
“You won’t get him shot, will you?”
“Not if I can help it.”
“I paid eighty dollars for this horse and broke him of his bad ways. I’ve won money racing him in these mountains—he’s that fast.”
“I’ll take good care of him. How is he around farm animals and cats?”
“He doesn’t pay any attention to ‘em,” Joe quickly replied. “Oh, he’ll stomp a dog if it gets under his feet. But that’s about it.”
“Saddle him,” Longarm ordered. “I’m going to get us some breakfast and we’ll be back in half an hour.”
Joe licked his lips and swallowed hard. “Don’t get lost, Miss Irma.”
“Don’t worry,” she said, smiling sweetly, “I won’t.”
Longarm escorted Irma to breakfast. He was keeping an eye out for Elliot, worried that the fool might try to
