brown mustache, low crowned brown Stetson hat, brown tweed coat and brown corduroy trousers—spattered at the moment with brown mud—and a light-brown calfskin vest across the front of which dangled a gold watch chain.
His cavalry boots, on the other hand, were black, as was the gun belt that held a double-action, .44-40 caliber Colt’s patent revolver in a cross-draw rig high on his belly just to the left of his middle.
There was a look of quiet competence about him. Generally, his appearance and bearing allowed other men to admire him without jealousy while women tended often to become moist and weak-kneed in his company.
And quite frankly he would not mind at all if this most handsome blonde woman felt that self-same way.
With that in mind he touched the brim of his hat and moved a step closer to the coach that had only moments earlier fouled both his trousers and his mood. The mud might still be on his britches, but his mood was right sunny again, thank you. He smiled and raised an eyebrow.
“Do you want me to pay you for the damage done?” the woman asked.
Longarm nodded solemnly. “Sounds like a fine idea.”
“How much do you want then?”
“Oh, ‘bout four hours,” he mused aloud, pursing his lips and staring off toward the sky as if in deep thought. After a bit he nodded in affirmation and said, “Yeah, I’d say four hours should do it. Or a bit longer. What do you think?”
“Four hours?”
“O’ your time. Over dinner mayhaps. That sound fair t’ you, ma’am?”
She laughed, crows-feet showing beside her eyes and mouth when she did so but the genuineness of her pleasure negating that and making her all the prettier when she laughed. “Are you asking me to dinner, sir? And we not even knowing one another?”
“Yes, ma’am, that’s pretty much what I’m doing, all right.”
“I don’t even know your name. Nor you mine.”
He grinned. “I don’t know how you feel about it, but that kind adds t’ my interest in the deal. Beautiful lady o’ mystery, appearing outa nowhere an’ disappearing just like she came. Even if you agree t’ pay what I demand I won’t know will you actually show up or not. Not until tonight at, say, eight o’clock?”
“Eight, is it?”
“Ayuh. At Donallo’s Chop House. Do you know it?”
“I know it.”
“Dominick Donallo keeps a private suite upstairs for special guests.”
“That I did not know, sir.”
“I’ll be in that room tonight at eight. Me, mayhap a bottle of champagne. Roast quail, I think, with wild rice dressing.” He smiled. “And whatever else sounds good.”
“Eight o’clock?”
“Uh-huh.”
She smiled. And did not answer. Not exactly. “Albert,” she called.
“Yes, ma’am,” the driver answered from the box high up and in front of the coach.
“You may drive on now, thank you.”
“Yes, ma’am.” The driver took up a light contact with the mouths of his team and softly clucked to them. The grays leaned into their harness, and the coach rolled forward.
Longarm’s last impression was of the woman—whose name he did not yet know—sending a secretive cat-smile at him as the vehicle pulled on down Colfax in the direction of the distant, gold-domed capitol building.
Chapter 2
“You’re late,” Henry accused as Longarm ambled into the office of the United States Marshal for the Denver District, U.S. Justice Department, located in the Federal Building close to the Mint on Colfax Avenue.
“You’d reckon it was worth it if you knew the reason,” Longarm responded, thinking of the lady in the coach. Eight P.M. it would be, b’damn. Upstairs at Dominick’s place. He was looking forward to it. And then afterward … well, who knew what all could happen afterward. He removed his Stetson and hung it on a bare arm of the coatrack standing in the corner.
“You might think it worthwhile,” Henry countered, “but the boss is in a positively foul mood. And I think you have something to do with it.”
“Me? Dammit, Henry, this time I’m innocent. I swear. I haven’t done the least thing out of line. Not for weeks and weeks.” Longarm grinned at the marshal’s office clerk and added a wink for good measure. “Something close t’ that long anyhow.”
“I’m serious, Longarm. I haven’t seen him this upset since … I can’t remember how long.”
This time Longarm frowned. “Hey, I’m serious too. I really haven’t done anything he should be mad at me about. Honest.”
“Be that as it may, Longarm, he said he wanted to see you as soon as you came in.”
“C’mon in with me then, Henry. You can hold him back if he goes for m’ throat.”
That elicited a hint of smile from the slightly built, bespectacled fellow behind the desk, and Henry motioned for Longarm to proceed into Marshal William Vail’s inner office. Henry did not, however, choose to join Longarm and the
