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items.”
    â€œThat’s what the assessment is for?”
    Longarm nodded. “’Tis.”
    â€œWhich side are you going to build this jail of yours, Marshal?”
    He grinned and reached for a cheroot. “Neither. It’s gonna go right smack in the middle. Now if you fellas will excuse me, all this talk has got me thirsty. George, start pouring. An’ everybody . . . leave your money on the bar there so’s we can pay for all this civic improvement.”

Chapter 27
    â€œI swear, Custis dear, you’re so busy these days that I hardly ever get to see you. Won’t you come have supper with me tonight?” Liz trailed her fingernails lightly across the back of his neck, sending a chill down Longarm’s spine.
    He grinned. “Just supper?”
    â€œMmm, could be more.”
    â€œI’ll find the time. But if I’m a little late, don’t give up on me. I’ll get there just as soon as I can.”
    â€œIf you want, you can bring your things and stay there with me. I don’t know why you insist on staying over there with those whores.”
    â€œâ€™Cause for one thing, I don’t wanta compromise you. After all, I won’t be here forever, and you have to live with these people after I’m gone.” He laughed. “Besides, those whores have kinda adopted me for a pet or something. They can’t figure out why I’m not fucking any of ’em.”
    â€œYou really aren’t?” Liz asked.
    â€œNo, I’m really not. Now go start fixing a fancy supper or whatever ’tis you ladies do in the afternoons. I got t’ see to the building of my jail. The cell pieces arrived an’ I need to get Otis to put it together. Either him or the Stonecipher blacksmith. What’s his name? Oh, right. Adam. Anyhow, they got forges, so they’re the ones can put it together. Then once they do that, the carpenters can finish that last wall.”
    Elizabeth just shook her head. And walked away. “I’ll see you this evening, Custis.”
    â€œRight. Thanks,” he said absently, his mind already elsewhere.

Chapter 28
    Longarm worked with the volunteers—he knew they were volunteers because he had volunteered them himself—until dusk put an end to the day.
    â€œReckon it’s time,” he called, “but we did good today.”
    He stepped back and looked at what they had accomplished so far. The floor was down—good, heavy puncheons that would be almost impossible for a prisoner to dig through—and the framing was complete. Two walls were up and a good start had been made on the third.
    They could not build the fourth wall until the Nebraska side’s wagon returned from the railroad at Kimball. The wagon would be carrying the prefabricated cell sections, and those would not fit inside if the walls were complete. The same wagon should have the sheet metal roof sections. As it was now the rafters were in place, but the roofing material had not yet arrived.
    â€œShe’s looking good, Long,” one of the workmen called.
    â€œThanks to you and the other fellows, Harry,” Longarm responded. “Good night, now. Good night all.”
    He walked over to Hettie’s whorehouse and went in without knocking. Except for being a mite noisy at night the whorehouse was as good as most hotels and better than some.
    He waved to the girls sitting in the parlor waiting for customers. There were two of them at the moment, which meant the other three were upstairs draining the sap out of some cowboys.
    Longarm went upstairs, stripped off his shirt and washed, then changed to a clean shirt and buckled his gun belt back in place. He pulled on his vest and coat, then grabbed his Stetson and headed back down the stairs.
    â€œGoing out for dinner tonight?” Hettie asked when he reached the front hall.
    â€œYes’m.”
    The madam laughed. “My girls will be disappointed. They like