He turned to Mr. Jenkins and said, “Now, Mr. Jenkins. The thought comes to my mind that there might be something in those saddlebags that you wouldn’t care for the United States Custom Service to be looking into. Would there be any fact to that business?”
Mr. Jenkins drew himself up straighter. “Why, sir. I resent that remark. That is a question that no gentleman should ask of another.
Longarm said gently, “You forget, Mr. Jenkins, I’m not a gentleman, so I don’t know what a gentleman is supposed to ask. I don’t want to find out when I get to the border that I am carrying a load of gold or some other contraband that might get me in a world of trouble with the border people. Now if you were sitting in my chair, wouldn’t you maybe think that such a thing was possible?”
Mr. Jenkins relaxed somewhat from the formal posture that he had taken. He said, “Well, yes, I suppose I can see where you might. But I can assure you, sir, that no such thing is intended. There is simply this: a horse has to be brought back. Nothing more, nothing less. You may, if you care to, search the saddle and the saddlebags, and anything that you believe to be contraband, you can cast aside. I simply want the horse back over here on this side of the border.”
Longarm pulled a cigarillo out of his shirt pocket and lit it with a match that he struck with a scratch on his boot heel. He said, “Well, I’ve got to tell you, Mr. Jenkins. I’m kind of dead for some sleep. I figure you can find somebody else for this job without too much trouble. I can’t have the only honest face in town.”
Mr. Jenkins said, “Aw, now, sir. Mr. Jones, please don’t say that. I really would appreciate it if you would do this favor for me. Matter of fact, I would even up the ante. I’ll make it one hundred twenty dollars.”
Longarm looked at him, his curiosity piqued once more. “You seem to want that horse powerful bad.”
Mr. Jenkins replied earnestly, “I do, Mr. Jones, and as far as I am concerned, you are the man for this job. Where would I find another honest man in this place? This is a den of thieves, Mr. Jones, and I’m sure you know the border as well as I do. It’s a difficult place. I’m a small man, I’m not a fighter, I don’t carry a gun. What chance would I have with the ruffians around here?”
Longarm looked at him levelly for a long time. There was something so frantic, so earnest about Mr. Jenkins that Longarm could not suppress the feeling that the man was up to something crooked, although what it was he could not say. There were, in the setup of the scheme, possible avenues for several methods of wrongdoing. For instance, the horse might be stolen. Maybe Longarm was expected to bring back a stolen horse. Well, if that was the case, Mr. Jenkins had definitely picked the wrong man to send for a stolen horse. He would shortly find himself in the jailhouse wishing he had found himself a different trail-worn, dusty cowhand than one who happened to carry a deputy marshal’s badge in his pocket. He decided to play Mr. Jenkins a little more.
He said, “Mr. Jenkins, I can’t quite see my way clear to doing that.”
“Mr. Jones, I beg of you, please, sir. I’d like to make my time in this town short. I’ll up the ante to one hundred forty dollars. I’ll give you sixty dollars now and eighty when you get back. You surely can’t turn that down for four hours’ work.”
Longarm asked, “Have you got clear papers on that horse, Mr. Jenkins?”
“Oh, yes, of course, of course. If that is what is making you hesitate, let me assure you, I have clear title to that horse.” Jenkins reached into the pocket of his coat and brought out two sheets of paper and handed both of them over to Longarm. One was a bill of sale and the other was a letter of quarantine, describing the horse in detail and the brand he wore.
Longarm looked over the papers carefully. They certainly looked authentic enough. He asked, “And this is the horse that I will find across the border?”
Mr. Jenkins nodded his head up and down and said, “Yes, that is the horse.”
Longarm could not fight his curiosity down. He swore softly to himself for being such a damn fool. The four hours that he was going to waste doing this was four hours that he needed for sleep. He didn’t want or need $140; though $140 for four hours’ work was considerably better than he did in the marshal’s office. He slowly folded the papers and put them on the table in front of him. He asked, “What if I do it in the morning, Mr. Jenkins? Will that suit you?”
Jenkins shook his head violently from side to side. “No, sir. I want to be out of this country before nightfall. I’d like to see that horse back over here and me on my way, even before dark. Please, Mr. Jones, I’m begging you.”
Longarm sighed. “Oh, what the hell. Mr. Jenkins, I want to tell you, though, that you may be the one who gets a surprise in this deal.”
A slight smile pricked at the corners of Mr. Jenkins’s mouth. He said, “Oh, I don’t know about that, Mr. Jones. Everybody gets a surprise every once in a while.”
Longarm looked at the small man. “Yeah, but not quite the way they expect.”
Longarm and Mr. Jenkins stood outside on the street in front of the saloon beside an average-looking roan saddle horse. Longarm had looked the animal over and found him to be sound. He wasn’t anything he would write home about, but he figured the horse would make it four miles over there and four miles back.
“Now, let me get these directions straight again, Mr. Jenkins. I go through Nuevo Laredo, and once I’ve gone through good and clear, I ride on for a couple or three miles and I’ll see a small white adobe shack with red tile on the roof. Is that right?”
Mr. Jenkins nodded again. “Yes, sir. That’s the fact of the matter.”
“Do you have any idea how many adobe shacks with red tile roofs there are in this part of the country?” asked Longarm.
“But this will be one of the first that you’ll see on your way. There are two Mexican fellows holding the horse for me. There is a corral out back with a barn made out of lumber, kind of gray-looking, sitting back off the road a piece.”
Longarm asked, “And that’s the road to Monterrey, correct?”
“Yes, sir. You’ve got it right.”
Longarm put a foot in the stirrup of the roan and swung easily aboard. The reins were already looped over the saddle horn. He took them in hand as he looked down at Mr. Jenkins. He said, “Well, sir. I hope that I don’t have any trouble finding this horse. Do you realize that I am nearly dead for sleep?”
“Mr. Jones, I consider this a mighty fine favor that you are doing me and I certainly will appreciate it,” said Mr. Jenkins.
Longarm nodded. He was about to say “So long” when Mr. Jenkins suddenly shoved his hand in his pocket. It came out holding three twenty-dollar gold pieces.
“Mr. Jones, you are about to forget your money.”
Longarm looked down at the gold coins in the man’s hand. He said, “Well, let’s do it this way, Mr. Jenkins. If I get your horse back over here, you can pay me the whole thing at one time.” He gave Mr. Jenkins a significant look. “But if I run into trouble I won’t feel like I am beholden to you in any way. In other words, I won’t be working for you, Mr. Jenkins, until I get back over here with the horse. Do you understand me?”
Mr. Jenkins assumed an innocent look. He said, “Why, I don’t have any idea what you are a-talkin’ about, Mr. Jones.”
Longarm grinned and reined the horse away from the hitching post. “Well, if everything goes right, then you don’t need to know what I am talking about, Mr. Jenkins. If anything goes wrong, you won’t have time to wonder what I’m talking about. Do you understand that?”