Longarm heard the metallic click of a gun being cocked and tensed, ready to spin around and fling the hat in his hand toward Coffin in the hope that it would distract the man long enough for Longarm to draw his own gun. Coffin’s next words stopped him before he could make a move, however.
“You’re under arrest,” said the big man.
Longarm blinked in surprise and looked back over his shoulder. “Under arrest?” he repeated.
Coffin had the Remington lined on Longarm’s back. “That’s right,” he said. “The charge is disturbin’ the peace and assaultin’ an officer o’ the law. You’re goin’ to be mighty familiar with the inside of the local hoosegow ‘fore you get out, mister ... what is your name anyway?”
Longarm had to hold back a laugh. “It’s Long,” he told Coffin, “Custis Long. You trying to tell me you’re a lawman, Coffin?”
The gun in Coffin’s right hand didn’t budge as he moved aside the cowhide vest with his left. Pinned to the pocket of the butternut shirt was a badge, all right. In fact, Longarm recognized it.
It was the famous silver star set in a silver circle. The emblem of the Texas Rangers.
This time Longarm couldn’t restrain his laughter. He threw back his head and hooted, and Coffin, along with everybody else in the saloon, stared at him as if he had just lost his mind. Maybe he had, he thought wryly.
“What the hell’s so funny?” Coffin demanded after a moment of listening to Longarm laugh.
“If you arrest me, old son, I reckon I’m going to have to arrest you.
It’s a federal crime to attack one of Uncle Sam’s boys.”
“You’re a lawman too?” asked Coffin with a furious glare. “A federal man?”
“U.S. deputy marshal,” Longarm confirmed. “And I’m here in Del Rio on official business too, so I reckon I could charge you with interfering with my duties.”
“A U.S. marshal,” repeated Coffin, his voice thick with both astonishment and anger. “In Del Rio on official business.”
“That’s right.”
“You’re the fella they sent down from Denver.”
“Right again,” Longarm told him.
Coffin groaned. “My major’s got me assigned to the same job that
brought you here, Long. That means-“
Longarm nodded and said, “Now you know why I was laughing. Looks like you and me are going to be working together, Coffin.”
Chapter 2
“You remember Don Alfredo Guiterrez, don’t you, Custis?” Billy Vail had asked several days earlier in his office in the Denver Federal Building.
Longarm leaned back in the chair in front of the chief marshal’s desk and used an iron-hard thumbnail to flick the head of a Lucifer into flaming life. He held the match to the tip of the cheroot in his mouth and puffed until the tobacco was burning evenly. Then he shook out the lucifer, and dropped what was left of it on the floor next to the chair. That drew a frown from Vail. Longarm took the cheroot out of his mouth and shook his head. “Can’t say as I do,” he said.
“Well, you do recall that little dustup down in Arizona Territory last year, don’t you?” Vail asked sarcastically. “In a little place called Inferno?”
Longarm frowned. He remembered Inferno, all right. It was there he had stumbled onto a madman’s plan to kidnap the Vice President of the United States and a Mexican diplomat when those two important gents met in the little town for some secret negotiations concerning the border between their respective countries. Longarm had busted up that scheme and nearly got himself killed in the process, not to mention finding himself on the wrong side of a jail cell’s bars a time or two during the whole mess. But that was long since over and done with.
“What’s this fella Guiterrez got to do with what happened in Inferno?” asked Longarm.
“He was the representative from the Mexican government who was meeting with Vice President Wheeler.”
Longarm shook his head. “Don’t reckon I ever met him, or even heard his name. All I knew was that the Mexican government was sending somebody up there for the talks.”
“Well, those talks are still going on, but now they’re being moved to Del Rio, Texas, so that our government and the Mexicans can clear up any problems that might arise the next time the Rio Grande takes it into its head to change course.” Vail cleared his throat. “This is confidential information, Custis, so don’t go blabbing it all over the Palace Saloon.”
Longarm shifted the cheroot from one corner of his mouth to the other. “Hell, Billy, you ought to know by now that I can keep a secret. I never said nothing to nobody about what happened in Inferno, except what was in my report to you.”
“That’s good, because we wanted to keep it quiet.” Vail gave an exasperated sigh. “We even tried to see to it that the Mexican government didn’t get wind of what almost happened, but they found out about it anyway. Guiterrez was in charge of the Mexican delegation, and he insisted on being told who was responsible for stopping that lunatic Vickery.”
“So he found out my name,” said Longarm with a shrug. “What’s that got to do with me now?”
Vail rubbed a hand over his balding pink scalp. “Like I said, the negotiations have been moved to Del Rio, where they’re scheduled to begin next Monday. Don Alfredo is still in charge of the Mexican delegation.”
“Is the Vice President going down there?” asked Longarm.
Vail shook his head and said, “No, thank goodness. Politics has got him busy in Washington City, so he’s turned everything over to the fella who was his assistant in the Inferno talks, a gent from the State Department named Franklin Barton. Barton will be ramrodding our side this time around.”
“All this politics and diplomacy ain’t ever interested me overmuch, Billy,” commented Longarm. “What’s it got to do with me?”
“Since you pulled everybody’s fat out of the fire down in Arizona, Guiterrez has requested that you be assigned to these negotiations as well, just to see that nothing goes wrong.”
Longarm already had a pretty good idea that was going to be the answer. He suppressed a groan of dismay. “You mean I’ve got to go down to that Texas border country, which is going to be hotter’n the hinges of Hell at this time of year, and ride herd on a bunch of diplomats in swallowtail coats?”
Vail couldn’t hold back a grin. “That seems to be about the size of it, all right, Custis.”
Almost biting the cheroot in half, Longarm uttered a heartfelt “Shit.”
“It won’t be too bad,” Vail assured him. “Everything’s being kept even quieter than the first time, so there shouldn’t be any trouble. I’ve already been in touch with Ranger headquarters in Austin, and Major Jones has promised to send a man down to Del Rio to give you a hand if you need it.”
Longarm frowned. He had worked with the Texas Rangers before, sometimes amicably, sometimes not. The best of the so-called Frontier Battalion—Jim Hatfield, Sam Cody, Reese Bennett, men such as that—were top-notch lawmen, and Longarm could respect them even if they occasionally didn’t have the same goals as he did. But there were other Rangers who were nothing but trouble.“Jones say who he was sending?”
“Nope,” replied Vail, “but I’m sure you’ll get along just fine. There’s not a better law enforcement agency west of the Mississippi than the Rangers. I used to ride with them, you know.”
Longarm didn’t need the reminder. He had heard Vail going on about how wonderful the Rangers were on more occasions than he liked to remember. “You sure there ain’t some other job you need me on more?” he asked.
“I told you,” Vail said sharply, “Don Alfredo asked for you in particular. We’re eager to oblige in any little way we can, because we aim to ask the Diaz government for some concessions regarding the border.”