Purvis opined the boys had likely been in with that notorious Mexican gang led by the mysterious La Bruja up the coast a ways, until Longarm pointed out, 'I've personal reasons for leaving those Mex smugglers out of it. To begin with, they warned me about these other crooks in time to save my ass. They'd have never done so if they'd been in tight with a bunch of Anglo smugglers.'
He sipped more beer. 'After that, Pryce or Doyle going to a Bruja for help against me tells us something else. Had they had a really big bunch working with 'em, they'd have never recruited half-ass killers who got killed themselves, or had to start gunning for me so personally. With four faces photographed fairly fresh, the Rangers ought to be able to tie the ones we got so far with any associates still at large.'
Purvis looked dubious. 'I dunno, old son. Nobody in town's been able to identify that one you sent ashore here after you shot him on board that steamer the other night.'
Longarm nodded. 'That only means he wasn't from Escondrijo. I just said the operation has to be spread mighty thin along a heap of thinly populated coastline. Someone is sure to recognize one or more photographs betwixt Matamoros and, say, Galveston. Right now, I'm more worried about how in blue blazes they got all that forbidden beef this far north of Matamoros.'
Purvis suggested, 'It's a mighty big lagoon, with many a cove and shallow-draft grass flat, Longarm. Anyone can see why they picked our particular port. We do ship honest beef out of here, albeit mostly alive, aboard cattle boats. So once the smugglers got past the revenue cutters guarding the mouth of the Rio Grande, or Corpus Christi Pass, which is even closer, they just had to unload by the dark of night when all us honest folks were in bed and then ship it right on, in broad-ass working hours, as honest Texas beef. Ain't that a bitch?'
Longarm finished his schooner. 'A heap of trouble for a marginal profit too. Say the gang was small and they had plenty of cheap beef to move. They still must have had a less risky way to bring it in from Old Mexico than you just suggested. We're talking perishable produce, not diamonds or even gold bullion. They thought they had a good thing worth protecting here. I just can't see midnight runs with black-sailed luggers playing tag with steam cutters for the amount of financial reward that would go with such penny-ante bullshit. Crooks stealing shit worth less'n a dollar a pound on the retail market back East need to move it by the ton, with little or no fear of getting caught!'
Purvis pointed out, 'They sure were afraid of getting caught by you, weren't they?'
Longarm grimaced. 'They were, in a desperate penny-ante way. They acted more like mean pimps trying to protect a street corner. That means they didn't have local protection, which is why I feel so free to talk about 'em with you.'
Purvis cocked a brow. 'Why, thank you, I reckon. What if they just had that cold-storage meat brung up from Matamoros in the cold-storage holds of that coastal steamer line? They'd only need a few key henchmen with an otherwise honest outfit. Who else would be peeking inside a sealed-up section of the steamer like so?'
Longarm rose back to his feet, saying, 'I did, the other night. I didn't pay much attention at the time. They'd have been better off leaving me the hell alone. But dumb as I might have been, your notion falls apart as soon as you put out from, say, Matamoros with a load of quarantined beef. Getting out is no big boo. But getting into the innocent stream of coastal traffic would be. Whenever the Coast Guard stops a vessel coming in from parts unknown, they send a search party aboard.'
Purvis asked, 'Is there any law saying Coast Guard officers can't be paid off?'
Longarm said, 'No natural law. Federal statutes take a mighty dim view of it. So do I. So I've naturally considered that already. It keeps boiling down to the root of all evil, the love of your average cuss for money! How much do you reckon it would take to bribe a whole Coast Guard, or even one cutter crew out of one station?'
Purvis considered and decided, 'You'd sure have to sell a hell of a lot of ground round back East at those prices!'
Longarm agreed that was about the size of it, and left to see how good old Norma and her plague might be making out.
Up by the converted icehouse, he found that for a soft flutterly gal who liked to be on the bottom best, the motherly but somewhat bossy Norma Richards had been making out just fine.
After kissing him smack on the mouth in front of everybody, the Junoesque doctor told him she'd wired a list of the observed symptoms all the way to the Surgeon General's office, and been assured they sure seemed to add up to Malta or what some now called undulant fever. They'd told her she'd been making sense with the moves she'd made so far, and suggested other, more drastic measures she might take to check the plague till a team from back East could get there to help her.
When she shyly asked whether he thought that meant she'd be in charge, Longarm kissed her some more and assured her, 'If it don't, there ain't no justice. But when did they get the wires back up and how come nobody told me?'
She said, 'I just found out myself Western Union hasn't been advertising for more business and the backlog is still awesome. I had to buck the line by threatening them with the power of the federal government. But I'm sure you'll be able to break in the same way, citing a federal emergency.'
Longarm smiled thinly and replied, 'I've never admired folks who got in line ahead of me, and there's nothing I have to say that can't wait till things simmer down a mite. I'd rather talk about Rod Gilbert and our sick prisoner, Baldwin. Lieutenant Flynn's offered us a free ride out aboard his steam cutter, and I was hoping you'd be able to tell me they were fit to travel.'
Norma favored him with a maternal smile and sighed. 'You've no idea how tempted I am to keep the three of you here for a month of Sundays, darling. But if you're asking me in my official capacity, the course of undulant fever is pretty predictable.'
She took his arm as if to lead him off to show him something as she explained. 'Thanks to your inspired guess about infected goat's milk and, as it turns out, local buttermilk-fed pork, we've stopped any human beings around here from being re-infected. We're not certain how vegetarian cows pass the plague along, but it's tougher for people to pick up. They have to rub body fluids from an infected animal into an open cut, or swallow them in greater quantity. You already know how sick they get within a few days. But it's called undulant because of the way it comes and goes, with each attack both milder and farther apart.'
She was leading him out a side door for some reason as she went on. 'It's usually the second or third attack that those who die succumb to. It's not as much the fever itself, as the pneumonia or secondary ailments that hit a victim in his or her drained state. Young Gilbert and that dreadful Clay Baldwin have been through the whole cycle half a dozen times. So I'm sure they're out of danger, albeit either may have mighty bad days for as long as a year in the future.'
