There was a second telegram in the envelope. It was from Longarm’s friend, the deputy in Omaha. It said simply:
THIS OUGHT TO SATISFY YOU STOP NOW, HOW ABOUT GIVING ME BACK MY HORSE AND WIFE STOP
Longarm chortled with glee at his friend’s joke, but mainly at the bench warrant from the judge. Even though it was sent in the form of a telegram, it was as official as if it had been written by the judge’s own hand.
He folded the telegram and put it into his shirt pocket. He strapped on his gunbelt and made ready to go have a quick visit with Sheriff Smith before going out to the Castle ranch. His intention was to apprehend the Vernon Castle family and then go after James Castle. He didn’t think that he would bother with James Castle’s young sons and daughters.
First he went around to the stable and gave instructions to have his chestnut saddled and left in front of the sheriff’s office.
He walked across the street to Sheriff Smith’s office. On the boardwalk, he stopped for a moment to take his badge out of his shirt pocket and pin it to the fabric. Then he opened the door and stepped inside. The sheriff was alone at his desk. He looked up in annoyance as Longarm walked toward him.
Sheriff Smith said, “I thought I told you to get the hell out of here. I don’t want to see you or hear you or smell you.”
For an answer, Longarm tapped his chest, directing the sheriff’s attention toward the badge.
The sheriff peered and then fumbled around on his desk until he found his glasses. He put them on, curling them behind his ears, and stared at Longarm’s chest. He said, “What the hell? You’re a deputy U.S. marshal. What the hell do you mean coming into my town and not telling me you’re here!”
Longarm said evenly, “Listen, Sheriff Smith, this is not a real good time to get on my cross side. So you listen to me carefully. I am going out to arrest Vernon Castle and any of his sons that are in their right mind. I am going to arrest them for bringing illegal Mexican cattle into this state and selling them into the northern markets.”
Sheriff Smith said, blustering, “You’ll do no damn such thing. This is my county and nobody comes in here and arrests its citizens without my say-so. You got that, Marshal?”
Longarm tapped his badge. “Smith, my badge is bigger than yours. Don’t give me no trouble. I’m going out to arrest the Castles and I’m going to bring them in and house them in your jail, do you understand me?”
Smith stood up. “The hell you will.”
Longarm leaned forward. “Sheriff, you defy me and you had better be prepared to spend some time in a federal penitentiary.”
Smith said, “You go to hell, mister.”
Longarm reached into his pocket for the telegram. He said, “That is Marshal to you, Sheriff. Marshal Custis Long.”
The sheriff looked puzzled. “Longarm?”
“You got it right. Now, take a look at this.” He unfolded the telegram and spread it on the desk in front of the sheriff.
In order to read it, the sheriff was forced to sit back down. It took him several minutes. He read it and then reread it and then finally reread it one last time. He took his glasses off and looked up at Longarm. He said, “You sneaky sonofabitch.”
Longarm said, “You better watch your mouth, Sheriff Smith. I already don’t much care for your attitude. It wouldn’t take much more to get me down on you. Now, I’m going to go out to the Castles and when I bring them in here, you better be ready.” He put out a finger and tapped the telegram. “You better be ready to comply with what that federal bench warrant says or I’ll put you in one of your own cells. Do you understand that?”
The sheriff looked at him steadily. “There is just you. I’ve got two deputies and myself and I can get a few more deputies if I need them.”
“Yes, and there is a fort full of soldiers out there and I can requisition them as fast as I can requisition a horse or a blanket from them. Now if you fool with me, you’ll have federal marshals coming out of your ears. Do you understand that, Smith?”
The sheriff tried to stare back at Longarm for a second. His jaw muscles worked, but finally he dropped his eyes. “I hope that you know what the hell you are doing,” he said. “You don’t fool around with a family like the Castles that easily. You’re going to cost me my job, dammit.”
“Surprisingly enough, Sheriff, I don’t give a damn about your job. You’ve had it too soft for too long. You’ve been serving the wrong master. You’re supposed to be serving the voters of this county, not Vernon Castle or his brother James.”
He reached out and took the telegram, folded it, and put it back in his pocket. “I will expect you to be here in this jail ready to receive prisoners in about two or three hours.”
The sheriff said maliciously, “That is if you get off that ranch alive, which ain’t all that sure.”
Longarm turned for the door. “Well, I reckon that you had better let me worry about that.”
Chapter 8
Longarm approached the Vernon Castle ranch headquarters warily. There was a big gate and a fence that led to the ranch house. He stopped in the opening and studied the lay of the land. He could see a few cattle and a few cowhands working off in the distance. His objective was to catch all four of the immediate family together at the same time. It was just after five o’clock. His hope was that they would be in from the day’s work and would be having a drink before dinner.
He started up the road that led to the whitewashed house with the red tile roof. As he neared, he could see that it had a big wide front porch. He saw no one hanging about the place.
When he reached the front of the house, he dropped his reins and dismounted slowly. He thought of taking his rifle into the house, but decided against it. He wanted to get in and look around before he let them know that his intentions were hostile.
There was a big brass knocker on the wooden front door. He rapped it loudly. After a few moments, it was answered by a Mexican lady, a servant most likely.
Longarm said, “Senor Vernon Castle, please.”
She nodded as if she didn’t speak much English and pulled the door open and stepped aside. Longarm walked into the big, cool interior of the front room. It was styled with a high ceiling and filled with heavy Mexican furniture.
Longarm said, “Is Senor Castle here?”
The woman nodded, backing away. She said, “Si, si. Senor Castle is aqui. Yo venga.”
Longarm figured she wanted him to follow her. They were just crossing the big parlor when a man stepped out from a side room. He was tall and well built, with a shock of white hair. He was well dressed and looked as if he belonged.
Longarm said, “Mr. Castle?”
The man looked at him inquiringly. “Yes, and who might you be?”
Longarm said, “I’m Deputy United States Marshal Custis Long. I’m here to arrest you and your sons for the theft and illegal importation of Mexican cattle. I have a bench warrant from a judge in Omaha, Nebraska.”