Longarm #398 : Longarm and the Range War (9781101553701) by Tabor Evans Page A

deliver the same message to keep the Basques from getting liquored up with false bravery.
    When he was done there, with much the same unhappy compliance, he returned to the rear of the courthouse to finally retrieve John Tyler’s lunch.
    The basket was where he had left it. The food was not. But some very contented town dogs were lolling in the shade not very far away.
    No, sir, it just plain was not his day, Longarm figured, as he turned and headed back to the café to get the lunch basket refilled.

Chapter 29
    â€œWhere’s my dish towel, damn you?”
    â€œI lost it.”
    â€œThen you’ll damn well pay for a new one.”
    Longarm sighed. “Put it on my bill.”
    â€œDamn right I will.”
    â€œNow, make me another lunch an’ load it in this basket, will you. The first one got the same kinda lost as your dish towel.”
    The café owner grunted. “Give me a minute. And this time don’t lose the damn towel.”
    â€œI promise,” Longarm assured the man. Five minutes later he walked past a group of sullen Mexican goatherds, descended the stairs to the courthouse basement, and rapped twice on the door before he opened it.
    Sheriff Tyler was behind his desk with a shotgun aimed squarely at the doorway. It would take a concerted effort for anyone to get inside, and people would have to die for the task to be accomplished. Longarm doubted that the Mexicans were so attached to their compadre Altameira that they were willing to risk death in an attempt to free him.
    â€œI brought you some lunch,” Longarm said, hefting the basket. “Actually I brought you two lunches. Some town dogs got the first one.” He filled Tyler in on what had taken place on the street earlier.
    â€œFigured it ain’t a good idea for either crowd to be get-tin’ liquored up today, so I shut down both Doris’s and Rosie’s places. Told ’em I’d let them know when they can open up again.”
    â€œYou know, don’t you, that you have no authority to do such a thing,” Tyler said.
    Longarm grinned. “D’you know, that’s the same thing they told me at both them places.”
    â€œYes, but you really don’t.”
    Longarm shrugged. “They’re gonna take it up with the town council, whenever that will be. If the town council says they can reopen, I’ll appeal to whatever judge rides this circuit. That should hold things off plenty long enough for us to get this bullshit resolved, one way or the other.”
    â€œDogs are important to those people,” Tyler said. “I’m surprised they didn’t start the ball there in the street this morning.”
    â€œThey come awful close, John. Awful close.” Longarm set the food basket on the desk in front of Tyler.
    â€œThanks, but Nell brought my lunch down to me.”
    â€œShit, I shoulda thought of that.” Longarm peeled back the towel laid over the top of the basket, reached in, and brought out a slice of ham and a biscuit. He carefully separated the biscuit into top and bottom halves, put the slice of ham in between and leaned back while he enjoyed a second lunch himself. He damned sure was not going to try to return the lunch to the café. Not after those dogs carried the first one off.
    â€œWhat I can’t figure out, John,” he said, crumbs of flaky biscuit trickling down onto his vest, “is why these two bunches are so set on fightin’ one another. It ain’t like there isn’t grass an’ water enough for both of ’em in this valley. You would think they could get along, no more than there are of them and as much grass as there is up there.” He sighed. “Maybe Anthony and me can get a handle on it all when we ride up there tomorrow morning.”
    Longarm finished the basket lunch then stood. “I’m gonna go see if that barber is done fooling around with the mortal remains of . . . what was his