Longarm and the Colorado gundown

_{Henny bobbed his head frantically, never once taking his eyes off Longarm’s, and fled toward the far end of the bar.}

_{“It ain’t nothing personal, mister. Henny stutters when he gets excited. He was prob’ly scared you’d think he was}

_{funning you an’ smack him one.” This man gave Longarm a hostile expression along with the explanation.}

_{“Sorry,” Longarm said. “I did come on a mite strong, didn’t I?”}

_{“A mite strong? Yeah, that’d be one way to put it.”}

_{“Sorry,” he repeated, mostly meaning it. He was still pissed with the people of this town, but that didn’t mean he wanted to go around terrorizing people like Henny.}

_{“What was it you wanted, Marshal?” There was no pretense of not knowing who Longarm was. But then by now everyone in Snowshoe seemed to know that.}

_{“Ab Able,” he said.}

_{The bartender frowned as if not understanding. “Ab?”}

_{“Lawyer Able,” Longarm said.}

_{This time the barman seemed amused. “That explains it. We got a lawyer named Able. But it ain’t Ab. It’s A. B. Goes by the initials, like. That’s what confused me since I never heard of nobody named Ab Able around here.”}

_{“All right, dammit, A. B. Able then. It makes no never mind to me. Where can I find him?”}

_{“At this hour?”}

_{“At this hour, dammit.” Longarm was getting pissed again.}

_{“Don’t bust a gusset over it. Jeez. I can show you how to go. Whether you’d be welcome there at this hour is up to Lawyer Able, though.”}

_{“Fine,” Longarm snapped. “Now give me the directions and be quick about it if you please.”}

_{The barkeep grunted and left his station to walk outside so he could point and gesture while he gave his directions.}

_{“Thank you,” Longarm said curtly when all that was said and done.}

_{The barman didn’t answer with so much as a grunt or a growl. He simply turned and went back inside.}

_{That bartender had been right about one thing, Longarm conceded once he was standing in front of the split-log cabin where A. B. Able lived and conducted business.}

_{The hour was past any reasonable time for calling on a stranger. Longarm’s Ingersoll showed it to be past ten. Hardly business hours.}

_{On the other hand, this wasn’t any reasonable bit of business, Longarm decided, so the hell with it. There were things he had to know and the sooner the better. If A. B. Able objected to that, well, fuck ’im.}