Longarm Giant #30: Longarm and the Ambush at Holy Defiance by Tabor Evans

a look of frustration, and then he pinched his hat brim to her, strode across the carpeted floor to the door, glanced back once more at her still lying there gazing at him with her lips slightly parted, and went out.
    In the hall, he pulled the door closed behind him, sighed, and shook his head.
    He felt the peace that comes after having his manly desires so thoroughly sated. After tonight, he likely wouldn’t need a woman again for a week at the most. Wincing, he adjusted his crotch. Another like her inside of a month would likely cripple him for life.
    Chuckling quietly, he dug a cheroot out of his shirt pocket and headed for the stairs. He needed some air and a fresh smoke. Then he’d head to bed and no doubt enjoy the best sleep of his life.

Chapter 7
    Two days later and right on schedule, Longarm climbed the stone steps of Denver’s Federal Building at eight A.M. , nodding at his male acquaintances and pinching his hat brim to the office girls.
    He climbed the stairs to the cavernous second floor and said howdy-do to a couple of attorneys he’d come to know over the years and who were going over some papers together on a wooden bench outside a federal courtroom. He followed his well-practiced route to the end of the hall that smelled of varnish and cigar smoke as well as the coal used to heat the sprawling building, and pulled open the stout wooden door whose frosted glass panel bore the name of his boss, Chief Marshal William H. Vail, First District Court of Colorado, and went in.
    “How’s it hangin’, Henry?” he asked the prissy gent playing typewriter on the desk to his left, while he tossed his freshly steamed and brushed hat on the tree to his right.
    Without looking up but continuing to pound the odd-looking contraption’s keys with his long, slim, white fingers, Billy Vail’s secretary said, “The chief marshal is expecting you, Marshal Long. Am I imagining things or are you on time for a change?”
    Longarm stared down at Henry’s dancing fingers, amazed as always that each finger seemed to know where each of the two dozen or so keys on the contraption was, and they never seemed to get entangled or miss a beat. And how did each key know where it was supposed to go on the travel voucher Henry was typing on? The world was changing mighty fast, Longarm thought, and he’d better figure out such things or get lost in the dust!
    When the secretary’s words finally made their way through his silent musings on the nature of progress and the fast fading of the old frontier, the big lawman glanced at the clock on the wall behind Henry, saw that the hour hand was on the eight and that the minute hand was pointing straight up at twelve.
    “Well, look at that,” Longarm said, as amazed as Henry was, planting one fist on a hip. “Henry, you’d better write this down in your work log. Custis Long was on time for a change. Put it on the page where you write down such things as why certain lawmen deserve a raise.” He muttered grumpily and raked a thumb along the line of his freshly shaven jaw. “’Cause such tedious little insignificant happenings as his savin’ a whole trainload of train passengers from being slaughtered by the Rio Hayes Gang or ending up at the bottom of Horse Thief Gorge don’t seem worthy!”
    He said that last loudly enough to catch Henry’s attention. The young, dapper little gent’s long fingers rose all at once from the keys, hovering over them, as the pale, bespectacled face lifted toward Longarm. Henry furled his slender, light brown brows over his pale blue eyes. “What’s that, Marshal Long?”
    Longarm smiled at having finally captured the seemingly always distracted little fellow’s attention. “Did you hear about my most recent exploits?”
    “Exploits?”
    “Yeah, you know—about me takin’ down the Arkansas River Gang. All by my damn lonesome. And then I noticedthat train we was on was headed on the downhill side of Horse Thief Pass without brakes,