Longarm held up a hand, palm out. “I don’t need to hear about that part of it. I’ll do my best to keep those old boys safe and sound, but whatever political business they hash out is their affair, not mine.”
“Reckon that’s a pretty good way to look it,” Vail agreed. He glanced at the banjo clock on the wall. “Henry’s got your orders and travel vouchers all waiting for you. Your train leaves in half an hour.”“Half an hour? Damn it, Billy-“
“That’ll give you plenty of time to get your gear together, and we both know it,” Vail said crisply. “So don’t waste time arguing, Custis. I’ll see you when you get back from Texas.”
Not if I see you first, Longarm thought with ill grace. But he had the sense to keep the comment to himself.
The Denver & Rio Grande took him as far as El Paso, following the river that gave the railroad part of its name down through New Mexico Territory. A while back, he had almost gotten thrown off a D&RG train by a would-be killer as the train was crossing a high trestle in New Mexico, so he stayed off the observation platforms on this trip. Besides, the mood he was in, it was easier just to stay in his seat and sulk. He hated bodyguarding politicians worse than almost anything. Not only was the job sometimes dangerous, but he had to listen to a lot more political bullshit than he liked.
From El Paso, he boarded a stagecoach that took him across West Texas, through country that was spectacularly beautiful in some places and spectacularly ugly in others. After a couple of days, the coach reached Del Rio, not far from where Devil’s River flowed into the Rio Grande. It was a good-sized border town, with the surrounding countryside divided between cattle ranches and farms. A whole company of Texas Rangers had been stationed here at one time several years earlier, Longarm recalled when he arrived late on Sunday afternoon, but the post had been moved elsewhere as the area around Del Rio had settled down somewhat.
The first thing Longarm did was sign in at the hotel and stash his saddle, saddlebags, and Winchester in his room. He probably wouldn’t need to rent a horse and do any riding on this job, but if he did, he would be ready. Then he headed for the sheriff’s office to let the local lawman know that he was in town. According to Billy Vail, the sheriff, a man named Sanderson, knew something about the meeting that was going to take place in his town and had been sworn to secrecy.
Sanderson turned out to be not a very impressive-looking gent, in Longarm’s opinion. The sheriff was below medium height, slope-shouldered, and could have used a shave. But his gaze was alert and intelligent as he looked across the desk in his office at the badge and bona fides Longarm was showing him.
“U.S. deppity marshal, huh?” Sanderson nodded. “I got a wire from your boss sayin’ that you were on your way.” He stood up and extended a hand across the desk. “Pleased to meet you, Marshal.”
Longarm shook with him and found Sanderson’s grip stronger than he figured it would be. The sheriff waved him into a ladder-back chair in front of the desk and went on. “What can I do for you?”
“Nothing in particular,” said Longarm. “I just wanted to let you know that I was around.”
“Well, that’s mighty kind of you. I ain’t been told exactly what’s goin’ to be happenin’ around here for the next few days, but I know it’s a mighty important meeting and that you’re goin’ to be keepin’ an eye on things.”
Longarm nodded. “That’s right. There’s supposed to be a Ranger coming in to give me a hand too. You know if he’s in town yet?”
“Couldn’t tell you,” replied Sanderson with a shake of his head.“You heard who it’s going to be?”
“Nope. I’m just glad the gov’ment’s sendin’ both of you down here right now, ‘cause I got a full plate without havin’ to worry about anything else.”
“That so?” asked Longarm with a slight frown. “Been some trouble around here?”
“Aw, just a gang of owlhoots runnin’ around and makin’ life miserable for folks on both sides of the border. You ever hear of El Aguila?”
The name was vaguely familiar to Longarm, but he shook his head anyway. “Can’t say as I have.”
“He’s pretty well known in these parts as an outlaw. Always ran by hisself before, but now I hear he’s got a gang together, and they’re the ones responsible for raidin’ some of the ranches on both sides of the Rio. So far I ain’t had much luck runnin’ ‘em to ground. But I will. You can count on that.”
Longarm wasn’t so sure, but it wasn’t really any of his business. As long as this El Aguila and his gang steered clear of Del Rio while the negotiations were going on, that was all Longarm cared about.
He slipped his watch from his pocket and flipped it open to check the time. The heavy gold chain from the watch looped across the front of his vest from one pocket to the other, and at the other end of the chain was the little Colt derringer that had saved Longarm’s life on more than one occasion. He put the watch away and said, “Nearly supper time. There a good place to eat around here?”
“Right across the street at the Red Top Cafe,” said Sanderson with a grin. “Best steaks and fried chicken you’ll find between here and San Antonio. And if you’re of a mind for a drink later, Kilroy’s Saloon just down the street’ll fix you up just fine.”
Longarm nodded as he stood up. “Much obliged. If that Ranger shows up, tell him I’m staying at the hotel, would you?”
“Sure.”“They have any Maryland rye down at Kilroy’s?”
“They’ve got just about any kind of panther piss you’re lookin’ for, Marshal,” Sanderson assured him.
Longarm grinned. “Then tell the Ranger he might be able to find me there after a while, if I’m not at the hotel.”
“You betcha.” Sanderson waved a hand casually as Longarm walked out of the office.
Longarm ate supper at the Red Top, and while he was mulling over his steak he also mulled over everything Sanderson had told him. The idea that some outlaw gang was marauding in the area was vaguely disturbing, but it was unlikely they would come anywhere near Del Rio while the meetings were going on. Anyway, though the diplomats might not like it, Longarm intended to keep them cooped up in the hotel all the time they were there. That way they would be safe no matter what else was going on.
At least, he thought wryly, that was the plan.
After he ate, he strolled down the street and found Kilroy’s Saloon. It took up almost a whole block, and its bat-winged entrance was on the corner of the building, so that a man could stand in front of the door and look down the boardwalk on two sides of the building. Music and laughter came from inside, and Longarm felt himself drawn by more than thirst. He went inside.
And found himself almost immediately being flirted with by the pretty redhead called Anna Marie. She was brazen about what she wanted, and Longarm had figured that she would wind up leading him upstairs.
Instead, he had been led right into a mess of trouble.
Lazarus Coffin glowered across the table at Longarm. “You sure you’re a lawman?” demanded the Ranger.
“You saw my bona fides,” Longarm reminded him, “just like I saw that badge of yours.”
“You don’t look like no federal man I ever saw.”
Longarm started to return the veiled insult in kind, then stopped, because Coffin did look like a Texas Ranger—or at least he looked as much like one as anybody else, because the Rangers didn’t have uniforms. What they had was a silver star in a silver circle, and that said it all.
Longarm sipped from the glass of rye that a bartender had brought over to the table, along with a bucket of beer for Coffin. “Folks around here seem to know you,” said Longarm. “How’d that come to be, if you’ve just been sent down here from Austin?”