Longarm on the Overland Trail

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It was a Friday night, so the saloon was crowded when Longarm dropped by after collecting his pay at the nearby federal building for a shot of red-eye and another look at the mighty handsome barmaid they’d just hired.

He could see neither notion figured to be easy. So he’d about decided to try his luck at the Black Cat or Pronghorn when he saw an elbow’s worth of mahogany between a townee and a stockman and wedged his taller frame into the gap to see if he could catch the barmaid’s eye without violating the civic ordinance forbidding a serious discharge of firearms within the Denver city limits.

The boys had the pretty little thing as busy as a one-armed paper hanger in a windstorm. She was pumping suds and filling shot glasses faster than the Constitution could possibly require. So Longarm was content just to admire her for the moment. He felt no urgent need for more cheer than the sight of her dashing about inspired. He’d always admired perky little blue-eyed blondes.

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