Longarm and the Arapaho Hellcats Read Online Free PDF Page A

Schimpelfinnig. “The town’s on fire!”
    Longarm hoorawed the fine horse in the traces, sending it barreling down the pass. As the carriage bounced over chuckholes and hammered over small rocks, the lawman stared at the column of black smoke and flames rising from what appeared the town’s center. As the horse closed on the small settlement, Longarm saw that the fire appeared to involve a large building on the main street’s right side.
    He could see no scurry of movement around the building in question, which seemed odd. Usually, a bucket brigade would have been formed between the town’s main water supply and the conflagration, and men would be running and yelling as they passed the buckets.
    But then the lawman started to understand. And he didn’t like it a bit.
    For beneath the drumming of the Hanoverian’s hooves, the hammering of the buggy’s wheels, and the squawking of the leather thoroughbraces, he heard the rataplan of what could only have been gunfire.
    â€œAh, shit!” Longarm stood up in the driver’s box and whipped the reins over the horse’s back, encouraging even more speed.
    All hell was breaking loose in Arapaho.

Chapter 4
    Longarm could smell the smoke from the fire. He could hear the shooting clearly now. Men were shouting angrily. A dog was barking anxiously, and a baby was crying.
    The edge of the town was a hundred yards away. As the Hanoverian pulled the carriage around the last bend, Longarm hauled back on the reins. The horse stopped under some scraggly aspens. The aspens and a large boulder shielded the carriage from town.
    Longarm set the brake and dropped to the ground.
    â€œYou ladies stay here,” he ordered, jogging to the rear of the carriage, where their luggage was stored in a rack.
    â€œOh, Lord! Oh, Lord!” intoned Mrs. Schimpelfinnig. She stood up in the carriage and was staring through the trees toward town. “That’s shooting, isn’t it? Oh, Lord! I knew this trip was a mistake, Cynthia. Out here there are no laws except the law of the gun! These backwater settlements are populated by
owlhoots
!”
    â€œAunt Beatrice, please sit down!”
    â€œMa’am, I going to have to ask you to sit down,” Long­arm said, sliding his prized Winchester ’73 from its leather scabbard and tossing the scabbard back into the luggage rack.
    â€œLawless, I tell you!” chortled Cynthia’s stout aunt. “Deputy Long, I demand that you turn this carriage around this very instant and take us back to the train at Cheyenne!”
    â€œMa’am, we’re a good ways out of town, so you shouldn’t be in any trouble, but I’m not going to guarantee that if you don’t take a seat, you won’t get your head blown off!”
    Cynthia was tugging on the heavy woman’s arm. “Aunt Beatrice, please sit down!” She whipped her anxious gaze to Longarm. “Custis, what’s happening?”
    â€œI don’t know, but I’m going to find out.” Longarm pumped a cartridge into the Winchester’s magazine, off cocked the hammer, and set the barrel on his right shoulder. “You stay here with your aunt. When I think it’s safe for you to enter the town, I’ll come back for you. Until then, you both stay here and keep your heads down!”
    With that he bounded forward along the trail, running as fast as his long legs could take him.
    â€œCustis, be careful!” Cynthia yelled behind him.
    As Longarm rounded the bend and approached the town, he could see down the main street, which was merely an extension of the trail he was on.
    He’d been right. The building that was on fire was on the town’s right side, about halfway down the ­street—­a corner building that appeared constructed of pink sandstone. Since the building, excepting its ­shake-­shingled mansard roof, was stone, the fire likely wouldn’t spread as quickly to the