Longarm and the Colorado gundown

_{“This is gonna take me a few minutes, folks. Got some fallen rock on the road, and I don’t want to risk an axle going over it. So if anybody wants to stretch a bit or get a drink this is your chance.” The driver set his brake and climbed down to begin the task of kicking chunks of stone out of the path. They had come to a halt on a flat, narrow ledge that ran between the creek they’d been following for the past half dozen miles and a steep, clifflike hillside above. It was from somewhere up there that the rock had fallen, partially blocking the way.}

_{Longarm nodded to the lady and touched the brim of his Stetson. “Ma’am?”}

_{“I am comfortable here, sir, thank you.” Her voice was pleasant. Throaty and on the deep side for a woman, yet most definitely feminine. No doubt about that.}

_{“Could I bring you a drink then?”}

_{“That would be pleasant, thank you.”}

_{He touched his hat brim again and joined the two drummers in leaving the wagon. The railroad boss pulled another cigar out of his pocket, but made no effort to climb down to ground level where his smoke would not be so close to the veiled lady.}

_{Longarm waited until he was clear before he pulled out a cheroot and allowed himself the pleasure of its flavor. He went around to the back of the wagon and reached into the luggage boot for his bag. He knew precisely where to find the article he wanted. It was ... uh ... he groped,}

_{grunted . .. there. He located it by feel and pulled it out.}

_{The camp cup was a cunning little thing. It had been a gift. From a lady. But then cute, collapsible, silver camp cups, particularly ones with sentiments engraved on them, weren’t exactly the sort of thing a man would buy for himself.}