Longarm #396 : Longarm and the Castle of the Damned (9781101545249) by Tabor Evans Page A

lightly knocked on the back door.
    Moments later the door was opened and light flooded the utility porch. “ Sí ?”
    Longarm frowned. No one had suggested that his missing Netty was Mexican.
    â€œAre you called Netty, ma’am?” He would have said it in Spanish but could not recall how to do that. After a few seconds he snapped his fingers in annoyance with himself and said, “ Es su nombre Netty ?”
    The cook shook her head and answered, “ Mi nombre es Maria .”
    â€œShit,” Longarm mumbled.
    Maria raised her eyebrows.
    â€œNo, not . . . not you, ma’am. Mr. Birdwell. Can I see Mr. Birdwell, please?”
    Haltingly, Maria said, “The mister he not up.”
    â€œWhen he gets up, when he’s awake, tell him there is a deputy United States marshal out here that needs to see him.” The words sailed completely over the woman’s head, but when Longarm produced his badge and showed it to her, her eyes went wide and she grabbed a handful of apron and skirt before whirling around and dashing inside the house.
    The back door remained open, and Longarm could hear Maria’s footsteps pounding on a staircase somewhere inside.
    He leaned against the door frame—it had been a long and tiring night—and waited. Quickly, very quickly, a tall man with a mop of unkempt gray hair appeared.
    â€œWhat is this about you putting Maria under arrest?” he asked.
    Longarm chuckled. Then explained. Birdwell turned his head and called out something in Spanish that was much too rapid for Longarm to follow. Then he opened the door wide and said, “Come inside and have some breakfast with us. My wife may be able to help you. She will be down as soon as she is dressed. In the meantime you and I can have some coffee.”
    Longarm smiled. “I can’t tell you how good that sounds.” He removed his Stetson and stepped inside Maria’s kitchen.

Chapter 17
    â€œI had just cause to fire her and that is all I shall say on the subject,” Ophelia Birdwell said, her chin high and lips primly compressed. Mrs. Birdwell was a rather stern woman and—Longarm sought a way to think of her charitably—not handsome. She was, in fact, homely. Figure like a beer barrel and a face that would stop clocks. Longarm marveled that Birdwell could abide waking up to that sight.
    Of course it was always possible that Mrs. Birdwell was a great asset to her husband. The poor sap might be getting up before dawn and sneaking out of the bedroom so he did not have light to see by. Imagining this woman naked . . . Longarm shuddered at the thought.
    He raised his cup and took a swallow of the coffee, reached for another biscuit and the honey pot. Biscuits and honey. By themselves not a bad way to start the day, and this meal included pork chops and fried potatoes too. He finished his third chop and, stuffed, pushed his plate away. He even refused Maria’s attempt to refill the coffee.
    â€œI’m full t’the top and thank you both,” he said. “You been most kind.”
    â€œSorry we couldn’t help you,” Birdwell said. “The hands will be ready to ride out by now. My foreman is a man named Jess Moore. Tell him you’re to have a horse to get you back to town. Just leave it at the livery and one of us will pick it up the next time we’re in.”
    â€œThat’s might nice of you,” Longarm said. He meant it quite sincerely. He had expected it, of course, but it was not something Birdwell was required to do. “I got one of the livery’s saddles back there by the dead horse, so if you’ll give me the loan of a bridle an’ bit, I’ll ride your animal bareback that far.”
    â€œFine. Tell Jess what you need. He’ll fix you up.” Birdwell checked his watch and added, “You should go find him now before he rides out.”
    â€œYes, sir, and thank you again for your help.” Longarm bowed to