Read Online Longarm 397 : Longarm and the Doomed Beauty (9781101545973) by Tabor Evans - Free Book Online

know how to use it!”
    â€œI forgot to tell you,” Deputy Panabaker said, crouching and holding one hand up, as though to shield himself from a bullet. “She’s got a gun, and she knows how to use it!”
    â€œThanks for that valuable bit of information, Leroy!”
    Young Panabaker rammed his left shoulder against the wall and hotfooted it up to the edge of the woman’s door. He angled his left hand down low and rapped once on the door before jerking his hand back behind the wall. “Miss Pritchard—all’s well! We done greased all three o’ them owlhoots outside, and the coast is clear. You can come out now.”
    â€œWho’s out there with you?” came the crisp female voice from inside.
    â€œDeputy United States Marshal Custis Long out of Denver, ma’am. I have a badge, if you want to see it.”
    â€œWhat about the others?”
    â€œThe other who?”
    â€œThe other trail wolves,” cried the woman from behind the door. “You don’t think there are just three, do you? Oh, Lord—I’m doomed !”
    Longarm glanced at Panabaker cheeked up against the wall on the other side of the door and said, “Open the door, Miss Pritchard.”
    â€œIt’s all right, Miss Pritchard,” Leroy gently assured the terrified woman. “Like I said, we done sent them three outside to hell with coal shovels.” He swallowed. “If you’ll pardon my French . . .”
    Longarm heard the squawk of a floorboard on the other side of the door. Likely, the poor one-legged, old thing was trying to compose herself as she headed for the door. Probably still trying to choke back a heart stroke. The lock scraped. The knob turned. The bolt clicked, and the door opened, hinges squeaking like red-winged blackbirds.
    â€œAll right,” came the woman’s voice. “But you’d better be who you say you are.”
    Longarm looked into the room and blinked his eyes as if to clear them.
    â€œLike I warned,” said the incredibly gorgeous, young, full-bosomed blonde in a red-and-white, low-cut gingham dress standing about six feet back from the door, “I have this here gun. My boss gave it to me back in Pinecone, in case of just such a catastrophic situation as the one I find myself now facing.” She raised the gun in both her pale, slender hands. “And if you try anything at all untoward, I’ll drill you! I swear I will!”

Chapter 7
    Longarm looked over the girl’s right shoulder, widened his eyes, and winced as though spying a threat in one of the room’s two windows. The girl fell for it. She’d no sooner turned her head to follow his gaze than he lunged forward and easily jerked the gun from her hand.
    She gave an indignant cry and, turning too quickly forward, lost her balance and dropped onto the edge of the bed. Silky locks of honey-blond hair tumbled enticingly across her face that appeared deftly chiseled by a master sculptor. “Oh, you bastard!”
    Holding her pistol in his hand, Longarm stared down at the girl, incredulous. “You’re . . . Josephine Pritchard?”
    She threw hair back and glared up at him through lime-green eyes in which copper sparks flashed. “Who else would I be? And give me back that gun, damn you. Mr. Cable from the Stockmen’s Bank in Pinecone gave it to me to defend myself with!”
    Longarm let his puzzled albeit appreciative gaze drift down the girl’s fine, cream neck. He allowed it to linger for a second or two on the well-filled bodice of her low-cut dress, noting a very light splash of freckles across her cleavage that owned the color of a nearly ripe peach. A primitive, involuntary warmth touched the lawman’s loins. He continued sliding his eyes down the girl’s flat belly to her legs, the fine outlines of which he could see beneath her long, gingham skirt. Both were long, slender, and supple.
    Obviously, neither was