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He said, "At least you've been trying, and that has to count for something. I understand you've been treating others out at that Coast Guard station you're staying at?"

She sounded half asleep as she replied, "A Deputy Gilbert, that prisoner called Baldwin, and one of the officers, an Ensign Domer. For some reason the garrison out there's been lightly hit by whatever this may be. Everyone out there who's suffered any fever at all came down with it here in town, or shortly after returning to the garrison from town."

She didn't seem to be getting any lighter on her feet as he kept on holding her there near the grinning Mexican kid. So Longarm reached up to remove his Stetson and wave it some for attention as he asked the big gal in his other arm whether his McClellan and Winchester might be out at that Coast Guard station as well.

She murmured, "In my quarters near the dispensary. You had all my toiletries with you in that trunk, so I had to use some soap from one of your saddlebags and I hope you don't.."

Then she was fast asleep against his shirtfront, and he had to put his hat back on and grab her with both arms as her knees went to sleep down yonder as well.

The gal with the mock red hair came over to join them, looking scared as she asked Longarm, "What's wrong? Don't tell me she's down with it too!"

Longarm didn't. He said, "I suspect she's just run herself into the ground. If you'd help me find a place to lay her down and stretch her out, it's going on siesta time in any case and I got to get on out to that Coast Guard station."

The gal nodded and said, "There's a lie-down we've been taking turns with over by the autopsy theater. That's what Doctor Norma calls the corner she uses to cut 'em open, dead or alive, the autopsy theater."

Longarm nodded, scooped the semi-conscious Norma up in both arms as if he were toting someone's mighty big baby off to bed, and let the other gal lead the way.

Their progress didn't go unnoticed by all the other volunteers. So there were others around them as Longarm lay the exhausted Norma on the semi-secluded cot in a shadowy nook between those hanging sheets and the brick wall of the improvised fever ward.

As he straightened up, Longarm observed, "She'd do better out of that starched-linen outfit with just a thin sheet over her. But I'd best let you ladies worry about that after I leave, right?"

One of the other gals, a small bleached blonde, suddenly covered her face and bawled, "I can't stand this! I can't tell whether these government folk are trying to be polite or mocking!"

The red-haired gal told the bemused Longarm, "Tess ain't used to being called a lady. None of us are. But you're trying to be a good sport, right?"

Longarm shook his head. "Nope. Calling 'em as I see 'em. Lots of folks who call themselves ladies and gents have run off and left those sick folks you've been caring for to die."

The mock redhead shrugged and said, "Business was slow with a damned plague keeping all the cowhands out of town in any case. I know you think we're stupid as well as low-down, Deputy Long, but hell, no girl with a lick of sense would be in our usual line of work to begin with."

Longarm said, "My friends call me Custis. Maybe it takes a lady with a foolish but generous nature to act the way all of you have been acting. I could tell you a tale of another swell gal they named a mountain after up Colorado way. But I got to be on my way now. So some other time."

The gal tagged after him. "My friends call me Ruby. How did you say you meant to get out to that Coast Guard station... CustiS?"

He said, "On foot, I reckon. They say it's only a mile and these low-heeled boots I wear were bought with such dismal events in mind."

Ruby said, "I have my own shay and a high-stepping trotter over to the livery, if you're not ashamed to be seen in broad day with a lady of the evening."

Longarm started to ask about old Norma. But the other gals seemed to have that under control. So he grinned at Ruby and declared, "You're on. But there are gossips up in Denver who might say it was you who was risking her reputation in the company of such a wicked rascal, ma'am."

CHAPTER 9

By then it was almost as hot outside, although sweeter-smelling, and the streets were nearly deserted as la siesta set in, with a heap of local Anglos participating. You had to go north to somewhat cooler parts of Texas to hear folks talking about lazy greasers in the noonday sun. The folks who'd been in the Great Southwest longer were as willing to work, when they had to, as most. But south of, say, San Antone, you knocked off a few hours from about noon to four in the afternoon, unless you felt like frying eggs on your skull with the help of that subtropical sun. Mexicans tended to sneer at lazy gringo shopkeepers who knocked off for the day before midnight, when anyone could see it was easier to go shopping after sundown. They themselves liked to finish their day's work around nine, dine late, and party till it got cool enough to make serious love after midnight. Going home for a snack, a quick screw, and a long nap during the daylight siesta made for a nice break.

So Longarm wasn't at all surprised when they found the livery across the way had closed for la siesta. He led Ruby in her sunbonnet around to the shady side, got out his pocketknife, and told her he'd whistle for her once he'd picked the front lock.

It didn't take long. They'd locked up more with kids in mind than serious horse thieves. So he whistled the friendly fancy gal inside, and took her word on which two-wheel shay was her own in the back. Once she'd introduced him to her frisky chestnut gelding with white stockings, he asked her if she wanted to find and fetch her own harness from the nearby tack room as he played Chinaman with the shay.

She said she would. So they parted friendly, and it only took him a few moments to get between the carriage shafts like some rickshaw coolie and haul the shay as far as that gelding's stall.

Ruby met him there empty-handed, whispering, "I think there's a dead man in the tack room!"

He told her it was likely just one of the stable hands, but drew his six-gun as he led the way through the low overhang between the stalls and tack room.

He had to chuckle as he saw at a glance he'd been right. There was no way to tell what the Mexican propped up on his rump in a corner looked like. He'd wrapped up in his striped wool serape and pulled his big straw sombrero down over his sleepy face. But when you took a longer look you could see he was breathing, while the little brown jug of pulque on its side beside him suggested it might be a waste of time to try and wake him.

So Longarm asked Ruby which horse collar and harness went with her shay, and wasn't surprised when she picked a well-blackened and silver-mounted outfit. Her shay had hard rubber wheel rims too.

As he harnessed the bay in its stall before backing it out, Ruby made a snooty comment on the way greasers dozed off at the dangedest times and places. He didn't waste time defending honest working folk to even a good-natured whore till Ruby asked, as if she really cared, "How come they like to sleep sitting up that way? You see them all over town propped up against a wall in a blanket with their hats down over their faces."

As he harnessed the bay between her carriage shafts and paid its four ribbons back through her silver-plated fittings, he told her, "It ain't as if anyone likes to sleep sitting up. But it beats trying to get comfortable lying down on hard dirt or the softest planking. I've found I wake up less stiff, after a long night on a cross-country train, if I shoot for my forty winks sitting up. They sleep flat as the rest of us when they've got a softer bed to lay flat on, Miss Ruby."

She smiled at him sassily and allowed she felt sure he knew all about sleeping with all sorts of folks in all sorts of odd positions. But he didn't brag about any Mexican gals he'd been to bed with as he led the frisky pony and its sassy owner out of the livery.