“We aren’t open yet, mister. Just you keep it in your pants for another little while. We be open by and by.”
“This is a different kind of business I have in mind,” Longarm said. He showed his badge and explained the problem. “So what I’m looking for is room an’ board. The government will pay,” he concluded, peering down at the plump little black woman who had opened the door.
She brightened when she saw the badge. “You here to throw those bastards out? Well, you just come in and set yourself down. Take any room you want. You say your name is Long? Well, welcome, Marshal Long. You stay here long as you like. My name is Hettie and I take good care of you, me and my girls will. Then when you ready we go over to the saloon. You meet everybody. They be as happy to see you as I is.”
Hettie grabbed at his bag, practically wrestling him for it, then scampered ahead of him up the staircase.
“This our best room,” she said, pausing at a door. “If it be all right, you move in. Stay long as you like.”
Up and down the corridor doors were being opened and heads were poking out to see who was there. Female heads, the girls with tousled hair and without makeup. Without the gaudy face paint and ribbons they looked like a bunch of schoolgirls.
Hettie deposited Longarm’s carpetbag on the foot of a low, sturdy bed and said, “Come downstairs when you ready. I take you over to the saloon. Introduce you to everybody. All right?”
“Just fine,” he assured her.
Hettie bobbed her head and backed out of the room, closing the door as she went.
Longarm shrugged and looked around the accommodation. It was not exactly a high-class hotel room, but it would do. There was no wardrobe, just a series of hooks on the wall, and a washstand beneath them.
He moved his bag to the floor and unfastened the straps that held it closed, the act being enough to make him feel that he had moved in.
With another shrug he went back downstairs to find Hettie and meet “everybody” in Val . . . uh . . . Valstone, Wyobraska.