Longarm on the Overland Trail Read Online Free PDF Page A

said he understood and told her, "I've seen about as much as there could be to see here, ma'am. But before I go, could I have a look at your husband's workshop next door?"
    She nodded and got out of his way. "Help yourself. The door's not locked."
    Again she remained in the doorway as he entered the larger but, if anything, less cheerful room built in up there. The dusty heads of long-dead critters stared at him from all around. The workbench was cluttered with tools, from meat cleavers to surgeon's clamps, and a bitty library of brown bottles rose above it. Longarm stared at the dismal remains of a half-stuffed jackrabbit and asked, "Would I be safe in assuming your late husband's hobby could have been taxidermy, ma'am?"
    "He liked to go hunting on his days off. That was another bone of contention between Tom and my brother. He offered to take Joseph along. Said it might make a man of him. But I guess Joseph preferred reading about Buffalo Bill to acting like Buffalo Bill."
    Longarm stared at the not-too-well-mounted pronghorn before he muttered half to himself, "Until recent, that is." He could see all too clearly how an older man who fancied himself an outdoorsman, when he got a chance to get outdoors, could feel about a sickly bookworm, content just to read about the West all around them. He picked up some of the jars to read the labels. It sure took a lot of fancy chemicals to put a jackrabbit back on its fool feet after you shot it. He didn't find anything that could turn a sissy into a wild man, even if he could have gotten in here so easily. He asked the brunette if she had any idea as to how her late husband had brought down all these critters, explaining, "I don't see any guns or ammunition around here."
    "There might be some spare shells among all Tom's things. His hunting rifle is in the house. Would you like to see it?"
    He shook his head. "Not if you know for sure it's still there. As you may have guessed, we're looking for a modest-sized youth packing two pistols but, all right, what sort of rifle bore are we talking about? Would you know?"
    She shook her head, then brightened and said, "Oh, I think Tom said it was a thirty something. Is that any help?"
    "It is. Nobody around here's been shot with a.30-30 hunting rifle. So there's no need to pester you further."
    As they went downstairs together she said, "I'd be happy to show you that rifle, and I still owe you coffee and cake at least."
    He turned to her at the bottom of the steps. "Thanks just the same, but I've other calls to make. If you're up to one more dumb question, though, is it at all possible your side of the Slade family could be at all related to the late Black Jack Slade of Julesburg, Colorado?"
    She looked blank and said, "We don't have any relation this side of the Mississippi that I know of. Mom and Dad came west from Ohio just before the War. Joseph and I were actually born back in Dayton, but of course we were too little to remember much when they brought us west with them. I guess I was about six or seven and Joseph was about three or four. All I remember is that he cried all the way."
    "Men you and him grew up the rest of the way here in Denver and nowheres else?"
    She nodded. "I've been up to the mountains with Tom a time or two. I don't know if Joseph had ever been out of the city before he joined the army. Why do you ask?"
    Longarm said, "He was sure dressed cow for a city boy, the one time I saw him. Would you know where he picked up that outfit?"
    She said she didn't. So he ticked his hatbrim to her and left by the alley exit. He knew Denver Dry Goods sold boots, big hats, and gun rigs But so did a mess of other stores in town, and it would be even hotter down along Larimer Street at this hour. When he got to the end of the alley he headed up the slope in favor of down. By the time he made it up to the more fashionable Sherman Avenue running along the breezier edge of what was in fact the rim of the higher ground surrounding downtown