Legend With a Six-gun (9781101601839) by Tabor Evans

eyes. A hat like that cost money, no matter what color it was. He said, “I was in Boston, once. Had to transport a prisoner back from there. I didn’t get to see much of it, but the harbor was right pretty.”
    â€œI’m afraid we lived on the Back Bay. You do know what the Back Bay is, don’t you?”
    Longarm found her approach a trifle offensive, so he nodded and said, “I can read, too. If we ever get served, you might be surprised to learn that I don’t eat with my fingers.” He saw the uncertain look in her eyes and added, “Might use my bowie knife if the steak is tough, but I promise I won’t shoot the waiter.”
    She smiled uncertainly, and said, “Dear me, we are getting off to a bad start, aren’t we?”
    Longarm was beginning to enjoy needling her. “Don’t know. Where are we supposed to be headed?” he asked with a blank expression.
    She replied huffily, “I simply introduced myself in what I felt was a proper manner, sir.”
    â€œMaybe. Folks out our way don’t fret much about which side of the tracks a person comes from. I’ll say right out I was born and brought up on a hard-scrabble West Virginia farm, and I’ll take on any man who says that makes me less than he is.”
    The woman blinked, apparently taken aback by the marshal’s directness. “My word! I certainly never intended to start a fight with you! Are you always so sensitive about your background?”
    Longarm’s mouth smiled, but his eyes remained expressionless. “Honey, I never had any background. We were too poor. As to what coming from Back Bay Boston makes you, all I really want to know is whether you aim to pay for your own dinner or whether you’re expecting me to.”
    Sylvia Baxter flushed under her veil and snapped, “That’s a churlish thing to say! Of course I had every intention of buying my own meal!”
    He looked elaborately relieved and said, “In that case, let’s just eat and say no more about it.”
    He saw the snooty waiter passing, apparently with no intention of taking her order, so he snapped his fingers.
    The waiter didn’t look their way, but the girl said, “Please, it’s not polite to snap one’s fingers at the help.”
    Longarm shrugged, drew his revolver, and aimed it at the ceiling. The girl gasped, “Oh, my God!” in a loud voice, and that did the trick. The waiter swung his head to see what was wrong and, noting the gun in Longarm’s hand, hurried over with a nervous smile, saying, “May I be of service, sir?”
    He’d obviously been working here long enough to understand the frontier breed better than he’d been letting on. Longarm put the gun away, saying, “This lady wants to eat. So do I. Where in thunder is the steak I ordered?”
    â€œIt’s coming right up, sir. Would madame care to order, now?”
    Sylvia looked undecided and stammered, “Dear me, I haven’t read the menu.”
    Longarm said, “Give her steak and potatoes, and tell them we ain’t got all night.”
    As the waiter scurried away to do as he was told, the girl asked Longarm, “How did you know I wanted steak and potatoes, sir?”
    â€œEverybody wants steak and potatoes. I read the menu. By the time you found anything worth ordering, we’d have likely starved to death.”
    The girl picked up the menu firmly and began to read it, trying to ignore Longarm. He tried in turn not to drum his fingers on the table. He was wondering what was wrong with him tonight. He was usually a friendly enough sort, and the girl was pretty, but he felt edgy, impatient, and out of sorts. Was he coming down with some ague? He didn’t feel sick, just sort of raw-nerved about something. But what could it be? It wasn’t the snooty little Boston gal. Any other time he’d simply have laughed her uppity notions off. They said ponies and