But there was still the problem of his damn tooth. Laudanum made a man a little slow and groggy, and if he was to be coming up against Caster in serious discussion, Longarm didn’t want to be either. Then again, he couldn’t be sure what Caster wanted. Maybe he just wanted to say they didn’t have a deal and Senor San Diego was going to shoot him for all the trouble he’d caused.
But somehow Longarm doubted that. He spent another ten minutes doctoring his tooth with whiskey until it was down to a bearable ache. After that he put a couple of fresh cigarillos in his pocket along with some matches, checked his revolver, put on his hat, and left the hotel.
It was a pleasant morning. Longarm walked around to the stable, got the roan out, mounted him, and set off for Caster’s office. It wasn’t but half a mile or less, but he had no intention of doing any more walking.
The place looked empty when he rode up and dismounted. The sign that hung from the roof of the porch swung gently in the breeze, creaking a little. There was no sign of any horses or wagons. Off to his left the cattle pens hummed with activity, as before. Longarm climbed up on the porch and let himself in through the front door. Caster was sitting where he had been before, at his desk in the back of the office. Coming in from the sunlight, Longarm paused an instant to let his eyes adjust to the gloom. But Caster waved him forward impatiently. “Come in, damnit. I ain’t got all day.”
Longarm walked forward. Once again Caster did not invite him to take a chair, but Longarm did so anyway. “Sorry I couldn’t come right away,” he said. “I expect your Mister San Diego explained.”
“I ain’t interested in yore damn teeth, Long. We’re doing business here.”
“Are we?”
Caster leaned back in his chair and frowned. There was a letter-sized piece of paper on his desk. He nodded slowly. “I sent a letter to Mister Mull outlining your proposition. There’s his answer.”
Longarm looked surprised. “You sent a letter? How the hell did you get an answer so fast?”
Caster gave him a look. “I sent a man down on the train. How the hell did you think? He brought the answer back last night on the return train. What did you think I was going to do, put that kind of business on the telegraph?”
Longarm shrugged. “I guess I never thought about it.”
Caster showed him his tobacco-stained teeth. “That’s how come you’re settin’ where you are and I’m behind this here desk. It’s also the reason yore money’s going to be in my pocket and you’ll be following a bunch of cows for yore share while I’m spending mine.”
Longarm kept his face impassive. He knew he had to play the role of a not-so-bright beef contractor, but he was getting just a little tired of this crooked customs inspector and his lordly ways. But, he reminded himself grimly, it wouldn’t be too much longer before their roles were reversed. Contenting himself with the thought of arresting Jay Caster, he said submissively, “Yeah, I reckon you’re right. But somebody has got to do the work, such as it is, or you wouldn’t be able to sit behind that desk.”
Caster laughed. “Never thought about it that way, but, yeah, that’s so. I’m just glad it’s you and not me.”
Longarm spoke with studied innocence. “You said my money was going to be in your pocket. Does that mean we got ourselves a deal? Did Mister Mull go along with it?”
Caster suddenly frowned. For a moment he didn’t say anything. Finally he tipped his swivel chair back and said, “Yeah, in a manner of speaking. There will be some conditions, however.”
Longarm was instantly alert. “Conditions? I don’t see no room for conditions. Can’t be a rise in the price, because I’m stretched thin as a guitar string as it is. And I ain’t taking the herd to Galveston without his John Henry and stamp on them papers. So what conditions you talking about?”
Caster looked away for a second. When he turned back to Longarm he said, “Well, one of the conditions is he ain’t going to meet with you. You ain’t never going to set eyes on him.”
“Well,” Longarm said slowly, “I don’t see how that’s going to work. Ain’t no way I’ll be able to make shore I got his okay unless he handles the papers himself. Hell, anybody could write his name, sign his name.”
Caster’s eyes got hard. “You accusing me in advance of planning something like that?”
“Well, no. But you got to agree it would occur to a man.”
Caster tipped his chair forward and picked up the piece of paper on his desk. “If I was to let you read this, you would know that he’s going to go along with it. He’ll be in Laredo the day you leave with your cattle and he’ll endorse your papers and put his seal on them.”
Longarm reached out his hand. “Can I read it?”
Caster pulled the paper back. “Hell, no! Who the hell do you think you are? I deal with you cattle bums all the time. You’ve all breathed so much trail dust it’s affected your minds. No, you can’t read this letter.”
Longarm shrugged, letting the insult pass but determined to remember it. He wondered what kind of dust Jay Caster had been breathing—the kind you absorb from being crooked? “Then what’s the good of showing it to me if I can’t read it?” he said. “How come you don’t want me to read it?” He had half an idea, but he wasn’t going to voice it. From the sour way Caster was acting, he suspected that Mull hadn’t gone for a fifty-fifty split. He’d almost have bet money that somewhere in the letter it said that if Mull was going to have to make the trip to Laredo and back, he’d take three dollars out of the five a head and Caster could have two. Of course Longarm didn’t know that for certain, but it seemed likely. He said again, “How come you don’t want me to read it?”
“How come? Hell, Long, it’s official government business.”
That was too much. Longarm had to laugh. “Official government business? That he’s coming down here to slick my cattle through quarantine. Hell, Mister Caster, I doubt you want that letter falling into ‘official government’ hands. You want to borrow a match from me and put a flame to it? What happened, he decide to split the money different than the way you had it figured?”
Caster’s face went red. He half rose from his chair. “Listen, you sonofabitch, you better watch yore mouth or you’ll be swimming those cattle. That, or have them confiscated. Where the hell you get off with that kind of talk? Who the hell you think you’re talking to, some saddle tramp drover?”
Longarm wondered why the corrupted hated those who corrupted them. The offer didn’t have to be accepted. It could be refused and honor retained. He reckoned that Jay Caster had to despise the “saddle tramp drovers”—the alternative was to despise himself, and Longarm didn’t think Caster was man enough to do that. But he had to get him sweetened back up. “Mister Caster,” he said earnestly, “I am plumb sorry I said that. It was meant as a joke and I see it didn’t come off. It ain’t none of my business how you and Mister Mull conduct y’all’s affairs, and if I give offense I am mighty sorry for it.”
Caster sank back in his chair, looking somewhat mollified. “Well, just watch it, long. You cattlemen got a bad habit of coming in here and acting like you own the place just because you pay a little money to get yore cattle to market sooner. What you’re buying is time and the cost of not having to feed a herd. Don’t worry about me flaring up, but they has been a couple of occasions where I’ve had to send Mister San Diego to straighten out a few hombres. Trust me, you don’t want that to happen.”
“Was it him took the letter to Mister Mull in Brownsville?”
Caster laughed. “Yeah, and he didn’t want to.”
“He scared of Mister Mull?”
Caster was in the process of scratching his forearm. He stopped and gave Longarm a look. “Scared of Mister Mull? You talking about Raoul San Diego? Hell, boy, he ain’t scairt of nobody and that includes me. I pay him, so he wants me to stay alive. Scared of Mull? Sheeet!”