lurched and jerked into motion.
Longarm had to hustle to make it onto the train before the clattering monster built up speed.
Chapter 40
“Make yourselves comfortable,” McWhortle told his red-eyed and weary collection of baseball warriors. “We’ll be here until after the game Saturday. Plenty of time for you to sleep.”
“What’s today?” one of the boys asked. Which was not really the dumb question it might have sounded. On a trip like this the days as well as the towns all blended into one, and if Longarm hadn’t been paying close attention he likely would not have known either.
“Thursday,” McWhortle answered in a matter-of-fact tone. “One more thing before you make a run for the beds. I’ve already talked to Mrs. Mosely who runs the place. She knows we’re broke and she’s willing to work with us. But be nice to her, will you? No shenanigans, hear? No water fights in the hallway and no food fights at table. And don’t be wasting food, all right? The lady will probably go light on the meat and other expensive stuff when she feeds us. Don’t any of you say anything to her about it. She’s treating us right. I want you all to act like,” he grinned, “little gentlemen. All right?”
The ball players grumbled a bit but not too much. Longarm thought most of them would probably go along with the deal and put on their best behavior, at least until the team’s bills were paid and they could act like their own ornery, immature selves again.
“That’s it then,” McWhortle said. “Everybody try and get some rest and I’ll see you at lunch. Oh, yeah. One more thing. We’re doubling up in the rooms to save money. No more privacy, so mind you don’t step on each other.”
That brought a loud chorus of groans and mumbles, but by then the manager had ducked inside and was already out of sight and hearing alike. The rest of the bunch trailed unhappily indoors except for Longarm who hung back on the porch fingering a smoke.
“Aren’t you coming … Chet?” Jerry asked.
“Be right along, kid. I wanta stretch my legs after all night on those padded damn benches. I’ll take a stroll while I finish this cigar an’ join you inside.”
Jerry grinned. “You’re already too late to get a good choice of roomies.”
“That don’t matter t’ me.”
“You wouldn’t … I mean … you wouldn’t consider bunking in with me, would you?”
“Sure, why not.”
Jerry grinned big as a shit-eating possum hunkered down over a fresh pile of bear doo. “You mean that?”
“‘Course I do.”
“All right then, Mar … I mean, Chet. You go on and enjoy your walk. I’ll have your things all laid out in our room when you get back. And … and you can have the best bed too. I promise.”
Damned if Longarm didn’t think he meant it. “Thanks, Jerry.” He turned and wandered away but headed not immediately down the street but around to the back of the boardinghouse first. He hadn’t had a chance yet this morning for the pleasure of a leisurely crap. First things first, after all.
Chapter 41
Longarm rinsed his hands and bent low over the basin, plunging his face into the chili water and washing some of the cobwebs out of his brain. Or so it felt like anyway. Two nights of trying to sleep on jolting trains can do that to a fellow.
He rubbed his eyes and behind his ears and scrubbed some at the bristling beard stubble that darkened his cheeks. It wouldn’t hurt to find a barber and treat himself to a good shave, he thought. Either that or risk cutting his own damn throat if he tried to do the job on his own.
Eyes closed against the sting of the soap residue floating in the wash water he straightened up and groped along the wall in the direction where he thought he remembered the age-gray towel hanging.
“Is this what you’re looking for?” The voice was feminine and soft. At the same time the woman spoke Longarm felt the coarse fabric of the flour sack towel being placed in his hand.
The first order of business was to wipe his face so he could open his eyes and …
Oh my, that was effort well spent.
The girl was pretty. Well, mostly. She had a complexion like fresh cream, eyelashes as long and curly as those on a Jersey calf, eyes as blue and sparkling as … as something mighty damned blue and sparkly whatever such would be, and tits big enough to suckle a troop of cavalry with milk left over.
She also had a jaw that would have looked in dainty proportion had it been slung from the face of a small moose.
But hell, with knockers like those feather-pillows of hers a girl could be forgiven a few minor faults.
“Thank you, Miss …?”
“You can call me Fancy,” the girl said, and giggled.
Longarm was commencing to suspect that something was afoot here.
“Fancy is the name and it’s fancy that you are,” he said with a deep bow. “My name is Chet.”
“Could you help me with something, Chet?” she asked.
“If it is within my power, Fancy, the favor is surely yours.”
“My, you do talk nice, Chet.”
