“Yeah, business,” she said with a hint of sadness. “Killing business, most likely.”
“I have to leave first thing tomorrow morning,” Longarm told her. “And I have a mule you can ride back down to Denver. Maybe a lame horse too. Anyway, when you get there, you’ll have a key to my rooms. Why don’t you just rest for a week or two until I return?”
“What if you don’t return this time?”
“I will,” he promised. “I always do.”
“All right,” she whispered. “Whatever you say.”
She fell asleep in his arms. He would give her some money to live on. Irma was a good woman. She just needed a little breathing room and a change of attitude. Maybe he could help with that too.
They made love the next morning, and then Longarm tried to say good-bye without hurting her feelings. “I’ve just got to get moving, Irma. I’m on the trail of a man that I think is going to kill someone in Leadville.”
“Maybe that someone needs killing.”
“He does,” Longarm said. “The man who’s going to be killed is named Hank Trabert and he’s a bad one. But I still have to try and save his life. That’s my job.”
Irma wormed the rest of the story from Longarm, and then she said, “Aren’t you going to buy me breakfast?”
“Sure,” he said. “But first, you’ll have to accompany me to the blacksmith’s shop. I had to walk into town last night because my horse went lame.”
“I hope he stays lame,” Irma said. “That way, you won’t be off so soon to Leadville.”
“Yeah I will,” Longarm said. “Come on, honey. Get up and get dressed.”
She stretched languidly. “Must I?”
Longarm had a very powerful urge to jump back into bed one more time with Irma before leaving. For a long moment, he weighed pleasure against responsibility, and pleasure won.
“All right,” he said, “I’ll have you for breakfast.”
“I thought you might,” she said coyly.
Chapter 9
“Well,” Longarm asked, “how is Target this morning?”
“He’s better,” the blacksmith replied, “but he’s still lame.”
Longarm frowned while Irma said, “Pleased to make your acquaintance.”
Joe blushed. “I’ve seen you around, miss.”
“Irma. Everyone just calls me Irma. And so, if you’ve seen me around, then why didn’t you come over to say hello?”
“I dunno.” Joe cleared his throat nervously. “I’m … I’m generally short of cash.”
Irma smiled. “As cute as you are, I might have been willing to work out a sizable discount.”
Joe blushed so deeply that Longarm felt sorry for the young blacksmith. “Irma, give him a break. Joe, what do you suggest about Target?”
“That palomino needs a few more days of rest and he’ll be sound again. I can rustle you up a replacement mount, but it’ll cost plenty. How far are you planning to ride?”
“Quite a long ways. Over to Cortez and the Durango area and maybe far beyond. It all depends.”
“Is your mule rideable?” Joe asked.
“He’s supposed to be.”
Joe nodded. “Then perhaps you should ride him and lead the palomino for the next couple of days. Not having to carry your weight would make it a lot easier on that rock bruise and might allow it to heal a little quicker.”
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?”