Longarm and the Colorado gundown

_{‘To your good health,” she said by way of a toast. “Hair on your chest,” he agreed, and Aggie laughed. The lady downed half of hers at a gulp. Longarm followed her example. And had to gasp for breath. “Lordy,” he blurted out when he was able to talk again. “That stuff is stout. I never knew you could put fire in a jug like that.” He grinned. “Good, though.”}

_{“I’m glad you like it.” Aggie set her glass down and opened a small wooden box that was sitting next to the lamp. Longarm had thought it an overlarge matchbox. Actually it contained some thin, cheap, sweet-leaf cheroots. He recognized the type. Molasses-soaked wrapper leafs and rum-soaked fillers in a vain attempt to smooth out the flavors of a basically worthless tobacco. Floor sweepings,}

_{Longarm figured. They cost a tenth what his own fine brand went for. And at that the things were viciously overpriced.}

_{“You aren’t gonna smoke one of them things, are you?” he asked when Aggie took one out.}

_{“Do I shock you?”}

_{“Hell, no, but you disappoint me, not having any better taste than that. Here.” He got out one of his own cheroots and passed it to her. Aggie smelled of it, then sniffed at her own. She raised an eyebrow.}

_{“If you’re gonna do it,” he suggested, “at least learn t’ do it with style.”}

_{She laughed and accepted a light from him, cupping her hands over his and guiding the flaming straw to her thin cigar. Longarm wasn’t sure, but he thought there just might be more heat in the touch of her hands on his than there was in that burning straw tip. She sat there with a cheroot in one hand and a glass of fiery brandy in the other and gave him a lingering look of intense speculation. Speculation? he wondered then. Or promise?}

_{He suspected, though, that Aggie Able wasn’t half as down-deep genuine tough as she wanted to make herself out to be. He kept remembering how timid she’d been when he was pounding on her door in the dark. That image was quite a contrast with this one.}

_{Not that either one was his to worry about. Lawyer Able, quirky though she might be, was welcome to be and to do just as she pleased. She didn’t need his permission for any of it.}

_{“When did you get in?” she asked, obviously wanting to strike up a conversation while they drank and smoked together.}

_{He told her, and added a few bits about the lack of cooperation he’d found among her fellow townspeople. He played the tales for laughs, though; he wasn’t much on complaint.}

_{“It could have been worse,” she said.}

_{“Uh, huh. As it is, no harm done.”}

_{‘Thank goodness.”}