next, and he was a man of his word. But first, he went to his own rooms and gathered his traveling bag and riding clothes, then his old canvas bedroll. He had several rifles of his own, but preferred to use the government’s weapons so that, if they were damaged or stolen in the line of duty, he wouldn’t have any personal losses. It took less than fifteen minutes for Longarm to pack what he needed and to hit the street again. Wearing a heavy sheep- lined leather jacket because he knew that the weather could get cold in October up in the Rockies, he headed for Johnson’s Livery.
Bert Johnson had been supplying their department with good saddle horses for years. Like most deputies working out of Denver, Longarm did not own a horse. Therefore, the department found it more expedient and economical to rent rather than buy animals for its deputies, even when those animals were occasionally shot or stolen.
“Howdy, Bert!” Longarm said, dropping his belongings. “I understand that you’ve got an especially good horse and pack mule for me today.”
“You got that right, fer damn sure!” Bert said with a wide grin. “Nothin’ but the best for the best.”
“You’re a natural bullshitter if I ever heard one,” Longarm told the grinning old-timer.
Bert was as sun-browned as Mexican leather and as wrinkled as rawhide. He had been a Montana cowboy for many years, but injuries had ended that way of life. So he’d come to visit Denver, been trapped into marriage by a bossy boardinghouse owner, and quickly escaped into the livery business. Longarm knew that Bert could have easily afforded to retire but that his wife was such a trial that he preferred to spend most of his waking hours at the stable.
“Which horse is it this time?” Longarm asked.
“He’s a new horse,” Bert replied. “Best of the lot. You’ll be the first one to break him in right.”
“I don’t want to ‘break in’ a horse,” Longarm told the livery owner. “I want Shorty, my usual horse.”
“He’s already rented out,” Bert said. “So are most of the others you like. But this one is better’n all of ‘em put together. His name is Target.”
“Target! That’s a hell of a bad name for a horse to be ridden by a lawman!”
“Well, then,” Bert drawled, “call him Trigger or Goldie or whatever you want. He’s a big palomino and he’s strong, smart, and fast. He’s got enough stamina to gallop over to California and back without breaking out into a sweat.”
“The hell you say,” Longarm growled.
“I mean it, Custis.”
“All right then, let’s see this wonder horse.”
Bert led him to a stall, where Target was already saddled, saying, “I’ve even adjusted your stirrups and given you my best saddle and everything.”
But Longarm wasn’t listening. Rather, he was studying the palomino and, frankly, liking what he saw. The gelding was quite tall. He had a very intelligent, refined head and a deep chest, indicating good lungs and wind. Target was actually a deep golden color, if the poor interior light wasn’t playing tricks on Longarm.
“Well,” Bert said proudly, “what do you think?”
“He looks like a show horse to me,” Longarm answered. “Why would you rent the government such a fine animal when you could sell him for a lot of money?”
“To be entirely honest, Marshal Long, the horse does have a few quirks.”
“Quirks?”
“Yep. To begin with, Target can’t stand dogs nor pigs nor chickens. He’s not too partial to cats either.”
Longarm folded his arms across his chest. “So what does he do about them?”
“He’ll go after ‘em.”
Longarm took a moment to digest this information. “You’re saying that he will attack pigs, chickens, and cats?”
“Afraid so,” Bert said before quickly adding, “but a strong man like you can easily control Target with the high spade bit I’m putting in his mouth. You’ll have no problems, Marshal, but a greenhorn or a lady … well, he’s just too much horse for them kinda people.”
“I don’t know,” Longarm hedged. “The last thing I need is a horse to worry about.”
“Then don’t worry about him! I rode this horse all over town yesterday.”
“Then you must have seen at least one chicken or cat.”
“Two,” Bert admitted a little sheepishly, “and I can tell you that at least the cat got away alive.”
Longarm ground his teeth. “What else do you have?”
“Nothing,” Bert said quickly. “All my other sound horses are rented out right now.”
“There are other liveries.”
“Now Marshal Long! I tell you what. Because Target does need a little polish and training, I’ll throw in the mule rent free. How’s that for being fair?”
“Fair, hell! I don’t care about what you charge the government for my pack mule! I just want steady, reliable transportation without any problems.”
“And you’ll have none! The mule never gave anybody a lick of trouble in his life. He’s willin’ and able. He’ll be your friend and is better’n a watchdog because he hee-haws in the night if any strangers come around. In a pinch, you can also saddle and ride him.”
