Longarm looked at him curiously. He asked, “What the hell am I supposed to do? I’m not going to kill anybody if that’s what you got in mind.”
The stranger laughed. “Oh, nothing quite that extreme. Actually, it’s a simple job that shouldn’t take you more than maybe three or four hours.” He leaned forward again. “I’m sure a man in your position could make good use of a hundred dollars.”
Longarm wasn’t sure he cared for that kind of talk. True, he must look a little shopworn and hard used after three days on a train with a maniac, but he was still wearing a $40 hat and an $80 pair of boots and a $100 concave silver buckle on his belt that usually concealed a .38-caliber derringer in its concave shape.
He asked, “You mean, you’re just going to give me forty dollars and let me walk out of here with it?”
The man nodded. “Yep. Just like that.”
“What makes you so sure that I’ll come back?”
The stranger said, tapping his head, “I’m a man as knows people, neighbor. Name is Jenkins. I make it my business to know what folks will do and you look like a good honest hired hand to me.”
Longarm barely controlled a slight twinge of temper. He personally didn’t think he looked much like a hired hand and about the only person he allowed to talk to him in such a manner was Billy Vail and the only reason for that was Billy Vail was his boss. Now here was a complete stranger talking to him as if he was a trail hand, not that he had anything against trail hands. It was just that he would have to be about the oldest one on the trail, with the average age of such cowhands being between nineteen and twenty, and at his age he would have been a failed trail hand.
He looked at the stranger. “Well, Mr. Jenkins. As I understand it, I’m to get forty dollars for going out and doing something and another sixty dollars when I get back. Now, what exactly is it you want me to do?”
Mr. Jenkins looked carefully around, though there wasn’t another ear within fifteen feet. Still, he leaned forward and in a hushed voice said, “Well, it’s really fairly simple. All I want you to do is go across the border about three or four miles on the other side of Nuevo Laredo where you are going to find a horse. A good-looking, high-blooded Arabian horse. I want you to bring that horse back to me right here in this saloon. That’s all there is to it.”
Longarm pulled his head back slightly as if he hadn’t quite heard. He asked, “You want me to go four miles deep into Mexico and fetch you back a horse?”
“You heard correctly. I didn’t quite get your name, by the way.”
Longarm said, “You didn’t get it because I didn’t send it. Name is … well, let’s just say my name is Jones.”
Mr. Jenkins nodded. “Fine with me, Mr. Jones, or whatever you want it to be. That’s good enough for me.”
Longarm asked, “And when I bring the horse back here to you in the saloon, what then?”
Mr. Jenkins said, “Why, then I give you the other sixty dollars.” With his hand, he motioned to the three coins he had pulled toward himself. “Making a round hundred dollars you’ve earned for about four hours’ work. Tell me where you can do better than that?”
“Well, I can’t think of any place right off outside of the United States Senate,” Longarm said.
Mr. Jenkins chuckled like a man not quite used to laughing. He said, “Oh, that’s a good one. Will you do it?”
Longarm rubbed his jaw reflectively. He couldn’t quite figure out what Mr. Jenkins’s game was but he knew it was crooked because Mr. Jenkins now began to look crooked. He said, “Well, I don’t know, Mr. Jenkins. It sounds way too easy. Just going and fetching a horse? A hundred dollars? That must be some horse. You got trouble getting across the border through the custom inspectors? That horse got some kind of quarantine problems?”
“No, no, no,” Mr. Jenkins said. He put his hands out. “That horse will have his proper quarantine papers. You’ll have no trouble crossing with the horse.”
Longarm said, “Well, to begin with, you want me to go four miles across into Mexico. I ain’t going to walk and I’m afoot right now.”
Mr. Jenkins said, shaking his head, “It doesn’t matter. I’ve got a good saddle horse hitched right outside. You just get on him and you’re on your way. Now, what do you say to the deal?”
Longarm didn’t know quite what to say. His body was begging him to go to bed, but his mind was intrigued to know what kind of crime Mr. Jenkins was trying to involve him in. He didn’t know for certain that Mr. Jenkins had crime in mind, but the idea of paying someone a hundred dollars simply to fetch a horse four miles into Mexico made him stop and ponder. He said, looking at Mr. Jenkins carefully, “Well, sir. That is a mighty interesting proposition. One thing I am curious about. Why don’t you go get the horse yourself?”
As he looked down at the gold Mr. Jenkins said, “Well, this right here”-he tapped the gold coins-“is supposed to keep me from having to answer that question, but I don’t mind answering it. To tell you the truth, there was bad blood sprung up between me and the man that I bought that horse from. I don’t want no trouble. I’m not a fighting man and I would rather not run into this particular hombre again.”
“I see,” Longarm said. He looked thoughtfully around the still-deserted saloon. “Still and all, Mr. Jenkins. You’ll have to admit that’s quite a bit of money for a short job like that. There’s twenty vaqueros right out there on the street who would do that job for you for a tenth of the amount you’re offering.”
Jenkins nodded his head vigorously. He said, “That’s true enough, Mr. Jones, but I like the way you look. I like your style. I’ve got a feeling that I am dealing with an honest cattleman. Now, if I go out there and hire one of those fellows off the street, he’s likely to take my ten dollars, go get the horse, take the horse and keep on going. I think that you’ll take my forty dollars and come back to collect the sixty dollars and bring me my horse. Now, how does that strike you?”
Longarm half smiled. He said, “Mr. Jenkins, excuse me for thinking this, but it doesn’t seem quite the sum of the matter. Is that horse carrying anything, by the way? Anything on his back?”
Mr. Jenkins looked puzzled. He said, “I don’t know what you mean.”
Longarm asked, “Well, does he have a saddle on?”
“Yes, there’s a saddle that goes with him,” Mr. Jenkins said, nodding slowly.
“That high-priced horse gets a saddle thrown in with him? A horse that you’d spend a hundred dollars to fetch? Do you mind me asking how much you spent for that animal?”
Mr. Jenkins looked slightly ruffled. “Yes, I do mind you asking me how much I paid for the horse, but as for the saddle, it’s a good one and it came with the horse. Why should I turn it down?”
“And does it have a pair of saddlebags on behind the saddle?” asked Longarm gently.
Mr. Jenkins looked concerned. He said, “Yes, I suppose so. Mr. Jones, I don’t quite understand why you are asking all these questions. All I am asking you to do is go get a horse and bring him back. The horse has been paid for, he’s not stolen, he’s got good quarantine papers on him, and I’m asking you to go and get him because I don’t want to run into the hombre that sold him to me. That’s all there is to it and you make a hundred dollars. What’s the confusion here?”
Longarm leaned lazily back in his chair and stared up at a spot on the ceiling. He picked up his whiskey and lifted the glass to his lips and sipped slowly for a moment. It wasn’t good whiskey, neither the bottle he’d bought nor the bottle Mr. Jenkins had brought over. None of it was good whiskey. What he yearned for was a taste of the good Maryland whiskey that he kept a supply of in Denver, but he wouldn’t get any more of that until he got back. Now here he was thinking about delaying his trip home out of curiosity about what Mr. Jenkins was up to. Not that he would actually be delaying his trip; he wouldn’t be able to get a train until noon the next day. All he would be doing was delaying sleep for about four hours. But he had a strong curiosity, which was a powerful tool for a lawman.