Legend With a Six-gun (9781101601839) by Tabor Evans

Sacramento. The same hombre just called to say we were to leave you the hell alone!”
    Longarm nodded, but said, “I want a name to go with your tale. Was it the marshal himself or somebody farther down his totem pole?”
    Lovejoy said, “It was a deputy named Harper. Sam Harper, I think his name was. He said you had no jurisdiction the first time he called. Now he says the case is all yours and he hopes you choke on it.”
    Longarm nodded again and said, “You can start breathing again, Constable. I don’t aim to shoot you after all. Did that deputy of yours get over the little set-to we had over at the jail?”
    Lovejoy smiled shakily and wiped his heavily perspiring brow with the white handkerchief. “Old Pete? He’s all right. I got him out looking for them road agents with the others. He said he still can’t figure out how you slickered him. Pete says you and that Injun started a row and the next he remembers is me standing over him with a pail of water. How did you do it, Longarm?”
    â€œI’ve got magic powers. But tell me something else. When Bitter Water and I ran off, did you trail us as far as a saddleback ridge about eight or twelve miles to the southeast?”
    â€œYou must be funning! We knew you had a gun and the Injun who knew the country with you! Do I look like the sort of fool who’d ride into a bushwhacking with night coming on?”
    Longarm was too polite to say what sort of a fool he thought Lovejoy looked like. Instead, he said, “I’ll take you up on the loan of that pinto.”
    â€œSure, Longarm. Where you headed, up to the miner?”
    â€œNot right now. I’ve got to get my own horse and rifle back.”
    â€œBut you said them road agents had them!”
    â€œThey do. I think I spotted the smoke from their hideout a few nights back, too.”
    â€œJesus!” Lovejoy gasped. “I’ll deputize some of the boys and we’ll ride with you!”
    But Longarm shook his head and said, “No thanks. I got enough on my plate facing the four of them. I don’t like folks behind me holding guns unless I know them real well.”
    â€œAw, hell, you still don’t trust me, Longarm?”
    â€œNot as far as I can spit, Constable.”
    *   *   *
    It was almost dark in the canyon when one of the four men hunkered around the firepit looked up and said, “Listen! Did you hear that?”
    One of the other road agents poked at the fire and replied, “Hear what, Slim? You been listening for ghosts again?”
    The first man who’d spoken said, “I could swear I heard a pony nicker, just now.”
    His companion glanced over at the two tethered to a live oak and said, “Of course you did, you durned fool. The two we got left are lonesome.”
    Another owlhoot nodded morosely and observed, “Thanks to your fool idea about that stage, we’re riding double these days.”
    â€œHell, how was I to know they had some sort of durned old sharpshooter aboard?” Slim protested. “I picked off that shotgun rider neat as anything, just like I said I would.”
    â€œSure you did. Then some other son of a bitch blew two ponies out from under us and left us in the dust feeling foolish. Did any of you boys get a look at the jasper? We owe him, if we ever meet up again.”
    Slim said, “All I seen was some hombre in a brown suit. He was one shooting son of a bitch, whoever he was.”
    A smaller, rat-faced youth in gunbarrel chaps frowned thoughtfully and said, “The cuss who shot Calico was dressed in brown tweed. You reckon it could have been that lawman, Longarm?”
    Slim said, “Shit, they threw that one in jail for shooting old Calico. Must have been somebody else.”
    A new voice in the canyon said soberly, “You’re wrong, Slim. It
was
me.”
    The four owlhoots stiffened as Longarm stepped out of the underbrush, his gun