Longarm and the Colorado gundown

_{At the livery she acted for all the world like she owned the place. For that matter, maybe she did. She ordered the employees around like they were her own personal servants, and was imperiously precise about which rig she wanted, which horse in the traces, even which set of harness was to be fitted and which whip placed in the socket. Longarm saw that he wouldn’t want to work for this woman. If he’d been Marty or Bill at the livery, he knew he would’ve refused Aggie’s business rather than put up with her shit. It was just as well, then, that he wasn’t either one of them, he supposed.}

_{He made a point to thank both men for their help once the rig was delivered and Aggie was aboard it. The outfit she’d selected was a light two-wheeled cart drawn by a high-stepping gray gelding in fancy harness. There was even a purple plume set atop the headstall, for cryin’ out loud. Longarm felt almost embarrassed to get onto the seat beside Aggie in a turnout so silly.}

_{He felt doubly so because she had quite automatically helped herself to the driving side of the seat and had the reins and whip in hand.}

_{Fortunately, nothing lasts forever. Including embarrassment.}

_{Longarm crawled onto the seat beside her and reached for a cheroot. He winked at the men who worked at the livery, and propped a boot onto the gracefully curved splashboard in front of him. “Wake me when we get there,” he said, and tipped his Stetson down over his eyes.}

_{“I don’t understand,” Agnes Able whispered. She sounded, and looked, completely befuddled. “I can’t... I can’t believe this, Longarm.”}

_{He grunted and jumped down off the cart.}

_{The truth was that he wasn’t half so amazed as Miss Able. Although he would have had to admit to being at least a little bit surprised. After all, not many community leaders were as dumb as these folks in Snowshoe seemed to be.}

_{Longarm stalked across an expanse of flat gravel to the gate and looked inside, even though that was done mostly for the sake of formality. The gate was standing open, and it was plenty obvious that there wasn’t anybody around. Not guards and not prisoners either.}

_{This mine and the newly erected stockade around its shaft opening were empty. Empty and vacant and no sign whatsoever of the Ute Indians who’d been held there.}