Caster just shook his head.
Longarm picked up one of the papers from the table and scanned it hurriedly. Then he looked back at James Mull. “My name is Custis Long,” he said. “I’m a United States deputy marshal. Mister Mull, you are now under arrest for malfeasance in office. I am holding an official document here, a quarantine release certifying that a herd of mine, nine hundred plus cattle, have cleared quarantine in Brownsville, Texas and are cleared for the trail. Hell, Mister Mull, you should have paid more attention in geography class. This ain’t Brownsville, this is Laredo. I ought to add a charge of being just plain stupid. Hell, you’re dumber than Caster, far as that goes. But he’ll do more time, I’m glad to say. You’ll like it in prison, Jay.”
Caster said, in muffled tones, “You haven’t got a thing on me. I haven’t signed nothing. I’m not guilty of any malfeasance in office.”
Longarm laughed. “Damn, I wish my partner was here. Name of Austin Davis. He’s the cattle contractor you thought was so dumb and crooked, Jay. He’d enjoy this. Hell, I ain’t arresting you for malfeasance; I’m arresting you for cattle theft. Those cattle you turned over to me this morning weren’t my cattle. And they damn sure weren’t yours to give away. That’s theft, Jay, cattle theft, and it carries a mighty handy little penalty.”
Caster took his hand away from his mouth and stared malevolently at Longarm. “You sorry bastard,” he said in a hard tone.
“Now, that’s no way to talk, Mister Caster. Hell, I’m doing you a favor sending you to prison. I had promised myself, after you had stuffed me full of your bad mouth, the pleasure of beating you to death. But I swore on oath to uphold the law and I don’t reckon I can-“
Longarm stopped. The twin eyes of a double-barreled twelve gauge shotgun had suddenly come thrusting through the window. The barrels were pointed straight at him. His hand had involuntarily flicked toward the revolver at his side, but then he relaxed. You couldn’t out-draw an aimed scatter gun at ten-foot range. His first thought was that it was Austin Davis, playing a prank, paying his partner back for making the arrests without him present.
But then an arm and hand, a left arm and hand, came thrusting through the window to sweep the curtains back. Longarm felt himself go cold. Framed in the window were the head and shoulders of Raymond San Diego. Longarm wouldn’t have thought he was tall enough to reach the window. Inanely he wondered what the man was standing on. He was conscious of how shiny black Raymond’s hair was, almost as shiny as the barrels of the shotgun. Sighting down the barrel of the big gun, speaking to Longarm, San Diego said, “You keel my brother. Now I going to keel you.” His voice steady in spite of the shaking inside of him, Longarm said, “Whoever said that is a liar. Dulcima killed your brother. I was there when it happened. Then she run off to Mexico with a boyfriend of hers.” It made no sense, but he was caught dead. All it would take was a slight pressure on the trigger of the shotgun to blow a good portion of him out in the hall. He went on, talking wildly, “It was Caster’s idea. This man here. He wanted Raoul out of the way so he could get a bigger cut of the money y’all made smuggling cattle back into Mexico.” He heard Caster draw a sharp breath, but he kept on talking. “Raymond, I’m not your enemy. You got it all wrong.”
For answer San Diego raised the shotgun slightly so that Longarm was staring down the twin holes that looked as big as dinner plates. “You lie,” he said. “I keel you. You gentlemens step back.”
In another instant he was going to pull the trigger. Then, from behind him, Longarm heard a word said so softly that he thought he must have imagined it. Then the word came again, this time a little more distinctly. “Drop.”
He let his legs collapse and hurled his shoulders sideways at the floor. As he fell he heard the sharp report of a revolver and then the boom of the shotgun. The noise filled the room and echoed and echoed.
As Longarm went down, he could see Raymond San Diego distinctly. Halfway to the floor, he saw a red mark suddenly appear on the little man’s forehead, right in the middle. Suddenly Raymond fell backward, the shotgun tilting up, the double load blasting up and into the ceiling. For a moment Longarm lay on the floor, deafened by the shotgun blast. Finally he turned his head toward the door and said, “You damn well took your time.”
“I figured you wanted a chance to get out of it by yourself,” Austin Davis said. “I know I would have.”
That night they were having a drink in Longarm’s room. They had trusted the local sheriff to keep Mull and Caster caged overnight, but they were taking them to San Antonio the next day, not trusting the local authorities to keep such prisoners until they could be sent before a federal judge. Longarm said thoughtfully, “That was a pretty good shot you made.”
“Pretty good?” Austin Davis was indignant. “Dead center in the forehead? An offhand shot with a partner’s life hanging in the balance? Pretty good? What the hell do you call a good shot?”
Longarm shrugged. “All right, it was a hell of a shot, a damned good shot. You saved my life.” He sighed. “And I’ll probably never hear the end of it.”
Davis shook his head. “Not from me.” He paused. “Of course I think it might want to make you cut down a little on that talk about being a better poker player than me. And better with the ladies.”
“All right, all right. Damnit.”
They were quiet for a few moments, each busy with his drink and his own thoughts. Finally Davis said, “I got to admit that was a mighty slick way that Caster had. He gave you cattle that had been in quarantine ninety days. And if you hadn’t noticed how poor they was, nobody would have ever been the wiser.”
“Except for the paint he supposedly used on the few cattle that stuck out. Odd-colored ones and them as had funny horns. Them he painted with that limestone water.”
“Colored limestone water. Chalk. Wipe right off.”
“It was slick all right.”
Longarm sighed again. “I never been so tired of a job in all my life. I wish we were through.”
Davis looked surprised. “Through? Ain’t we? Outside of escorting them two to San Antonio, what is left?”
“Her.”
“Who?”
“Dulcima. Who’d you think? She damn near got me killed. You know that was planned. Caster had told me to stay in my room at least fifteen minutes after I went in there to get my papers. He didn’t know I knew about Mull. And he had the window all set for Raymond to blow me in two. If I hadn’t broke in there, if I hadn’t known about Mull already being in the hotel, I’d have been a sitting duck. It was just bad luck that San Diego went to scouting around. Though I would guess he knew which room was Mull’s. As did you. And no thanks to Jasper White. If I see that bastard, I’m going to beat the hell out of him. Unless I can think of some reason to put him in jail.”
“Yeah, I agree about Jasper, but why don’t you leave the damn woman alone? Hell, let’s be done with this mess and get on back and have a good time somewhere.”
Longarm frowned. “Hell, Austin, she done her best to get me killed.”
“Yeah, but you’d have a hell of a time making such a charge stick. Especially on a woman that good-looking. Something bad will happen to her eventually anyway.”
“Well, it makes me angry,” Longarm said stubbornly. “I’d like to give her a good scare, anyway.”
“Hell, Longarm, all she did to you was try to do what you done to her.”
Longarm glanced at Davis. After a moment, he said, “Yeah, I reckon you’re right.” Then he smiled. “But I bet I had a hell of a lot more fun doing it to her.”