made him stop and ponder. He said, looking at Mr. Jenkins carefully, “Well, sir. That is a mighty interesting proposition. One thing I am curious about. Why don’t you go get the horse yourself?”
As he looked down at the gold Mr. Jenkins said, “Well, this right here”-he tapped the gold coins-“is supposed to keep me from having to answer that question, but I don’t mind answering it. To tell you the truth, there was bad blood sprung up between me and the man that I bought that horse from. I don’t want no trouble. I’m not a fighting man and I would rather not run into this particular hombre again.”
“I see,” Longarm said. He looked thoughtfully around the still-deserted saloon. “Still and all, Mr. Jenkins. You’ll have to admit that’s quite a bit of money for a short job like that. There’s twenty vaqueros right out there on the street who would do that job for you for a tenth of the amount you’re offering.”
Jenkins nodded his head vigorously. He said, “That’s true enough, Mr. Jones, but I like the way you look. I like your style. I’ve got a feeling that I am dealing with an honest cattleman. Now, if I go out there and hire one of those fellows off the street, he’s likely to take my ten dollars, go get the horse, take the horse and keep on going. I think that you’ll take my forty dollars and come back to collect the sixty dollars and bring me my horse. Now, how does that strike you?”
Longarm half smiled. He said, “Mr. Jenkins, excuse me for thinking this, but it doesn’t seem quite the sum of the matter. Is that horse carrying anything, by the way? Anything on his back?”
Mr. Jenkins looked puzzled. He said, “I don’t know what you mean.”
Longarm asked, “Well, does he have a saddle on?”
“Yes, there’s a saddle that goes with him,” Mr. Jenkins said, nodding slowly.
“That high-priced horse gets a saddle thrown in with him? A horse that you’d spend a hundred dollars to fetch? Do you mind me asking how much you spent for that animal?”
Mr. Jenkins looked slightly ruffled. “Yes, I do mind you asking me how much I paid for the horse, but as for the saddle, it’s a good one and it came with the horse. Why should I turn it down?”
“And does it have a pair of saddlebags on behind the saddle?” asked Longarm gently.
Mr. Jenkins looked concerned. He said, “Yes, I suppose so. Mr. Jones, I don’t quite understand why you are asking all these questions. All I am asking you to do is go get a horse and bring him back. The horse has been paid for, he’s not stolen, he’s got good quarantine papers on him, and I’m asking you to go and get him because I don’t want to run into the hombre that sold him to me. That’s all there is to it and you make a hundred dollars. What’s the confusion here?”
Longarm leaned lazily back in his chair and stared up at a spot on the ceiling. He picked up his whiskey and lifted the glass to his lips and sipped slowly for a moment. It wasn’t good whiskey, neither the bottle he’d bought nor the bottle Mr. Jenkins had brought over. None of it was good whiskey. What he yearned for was a taste of the good Maryland whiskey that he kept a supply of in Denver, but he wouldn’t get any more of that until he got back. Now here he was thinking about delaying his trip home out of curiosity about what Mr. Jenkins was up to. Not that he would actually be delaying his trip; he wouldn’t be able to get a train until noon the next day. All he would be doing was delaying sleep for about four hours. But he had a strong curiosity, which was a powerful tool for a lawman.
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
