Longarm and the Shoshoni silver

The more casually dressed prisoner smiled sheepishly, exposing the bucktooth that had died and turned slate blue to give him his handle as he replied, "Five or even six. Boss. I don't suppose I could get you to bring me back some

bread and butter, once you've finished your noon dinner up forward?"

Longarm almost said something dumb. Then he reflected that his prisoner might not try so hard at first if he thought he had plenty of time. So he simply nodded and said he might even manage a ham on rye if Tanner would promise not to escape before he got back.

Blue Tooth did, for all that meant. So Longarm hunkered down to chain Tanner's booted ankles securely. Then, lest a gent on his way to a federal hanging bruise his fool self in thrashing about, Longarm removed one wrist cuff and snapped it back in place with the chain threaded under the armrest at that same end of the green plush seat. Blue Tooth bitched it was an uncomfortable way to ride. Longarm told him it wasn't half as uncomfortable as it could get in any position by sundown without a bite to eat all day. Then he rose, put a thoughtful hand on the door latch, and studied his securely chained prisoner to see what he might have done wrong.

He couldn't see anything. Besides, Blue Tooth Tanner had been dumb enough during the robbery to disguise his horse face with a small domino mask covering only his nondescript oyster gray eyes. So Longarm figured he didn't have much to worry about. He nodded, said something about being back in less than an hour, and ducked out into the narrow corridor running a third the length of that particular car.

There were close to a dozen other cars, coach or Pullman, this side of the forward diner. Longarm knew his prisoner knew that. So he only moved up to the wider space near the front of their car, where he could still keep an eye on the door to his compartment, as he fished out a three-for-a-nickel cheroot and lit it.

A million years and, say, two dozen drags of smoke later, a young colored gent in a white linen jacket came along the corridor with a forearm's worth of flat chimes, banging them fit to bust as he called out more softly that

they were fixing to start serving up ahead.

Longarm saw he hadn't been the only one aboard with a growling stomach as soon as other doors along the corridor commenced to slide open. A mighty fine young blonde in a tan poplin duster popped out of her own compartment to lead the stampede, passing Longarm before the colored gent with the gongs made it up to him.

Longarm didn't care about the hungry blonde. He stopped the dining car crewman with a friendly smile and bet him four bits a lawman transporting a prisoner couldn't get served back here in a private compartment.

He lost, of course, and decided it was worth it when the easygoing colored gent produced a menu out of thin air and said he'd be back to take their order once he got done donging the others forward to dine the usual way.

There sure were a heap of them, male, female, handsome, not so handsome, and downright ugly. More than one old boy and at least two women who passed Longarm were dressed more ragged-ass than old Blue Tooth inside. None seemed to have any trouble easing by as Longarm stood his ground in that wider but far from spacious end of the corridor. Then a sort of gorilla or grizzly sporting a checked vest, white Texas hat, and Walker .45 conversion strode dead-center down on Longarm to grumble, "You're blocking my way, pilgrim."

Longsirm was already leaning his back against the bulkhead. So he couldn't back up any farther, and said so in as amiable a tone as the situation called for. He'd already decided that while most Texicans wore their hats crowned tall to keep their scalps a shade cooler under their more ferocious sun, this one had his hat crowned even taller to look ferocious, which hardly seemed fair since the asshole stood close to seven feet tall in his high-heeled border boots to begin with.

The big man in the big hat placed a thoughtful palm on the grips of his big gun as he repeated, "I'm trying to get

through here whilst you block egress with that sissy see-gar, sonny."

Longarm blew some smoke in the bully's beefy face before he quietly said, "Don't fuck with me. I mean it."

The big Texican reared back on his high heels to demand, "Who do you think you are and who do you think you're talking to so suicidal, little darling?"

So Longarm had the muzzle of his own .44-40 imbedded deep in the bully's beefy gut by the time he softly replied, "Let's just say I'm as harmless a cuss as you'd let me be, if you had a lick of sense, you loud-talking and slow-drawing bastard!"

The stranger, now sort of ashen-faced, allowed that since Longarm was putting it that way, he'd just as soon mosey on up to the old dining car and see what they were serving for dinner.