clean as a whistle.”
Caster smiled as if he’d heard that story one more time than he cared to. “Yeah,” he said, “but they got to pass through tick country to get here to the border. We don’t think of them as clean cattle, Mister Long. That’s why we got all them pens out there. Now, if you could get them cattle to fly up here to the border, might be a different story.”
Still unbidden, Longarm sat down in a straight-backed wooden chair directly across from Caster. He took his hat off, crossed his legs, and put his hat on his knee. “Uh, they say money can do a powerful lot of things, Mister Caster. Maybe it can make them cattle fly up here so they can get rushed right through and be on their way to Oklahoma. I got a government beef contract to feed Indians. Ain’t the most generous contract you ever saw. I shore know it ain’t going to stretch far enough to feed them cattle for ninety days while they stay in quarantine.”
Mister Caster was chewing tobacco. He leaned sideways and spit in a bucket, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and then said mildly, “I’ve heard of drovers who went clean on around this little customs station of mine here and swum their cattle across.”
Longarm laughed without humor. “Yeah, I tried that one time. Luckily it was a fairly small herd, so I didn’t lose everything. Four hundred head. I reckon I fed cavalry soldiers with that one instead of Indians. Let’s see, I reckon I wasn’t no more than fifty miles inland when a range inspector come up and wanted to see my papers. Naturally I didn’t have none, so he said he reckoned they weren’t my cattle, and damned if he didn’t fetch them off with him.”
Caster nodded and spit again. “Yeah, I hear that will happen. Man needs papers on cattle he imports into the United States of America from Mexico. I understand that is the law.”
Longarm scratched his head. “I wasn’t planning on driving through any settled country on the southeast side of the range,” he said. “Not through any ranches where I might cause trouble. Naw, I was going to head northwest out of here. Wouldn’t cause nobody no trouble. And I shore wouldn’t be passing on no tick fever.”
Caster shook his head sympathetically. “Law don’t make no allowance for that, Mister Long. Law don’t care which direction you’re headed. Law says you got to keep your cattle penned under government supervision—that would be me—for ninety days. If they don’t show no signs of fever, why, you’re free to go on your way. Of course if they come down sick, we got to turn you back. But, then, I reckon this ain’t no news to you.”
Longarm fiddled with the crown of his hat. It was important to not be too bold with Caster. A sure enough smuggler wouldn’t be. “Yeah, I know all that part,” he said casually. “I just keep thinking about how nice it would be if them cattle could just fly right on over the border and be on their way to Indian territory. Looks like the right amount of money could make that happen. What do you think, Mister Caster? What do you reckon it would take to get them cattle rushed on through the rigamarole and on their way to feed some hungry Indians?”
Caster leaned over slowly to spit again, and then, even more slowly, straightened back up. “Now, Mister Long,” he said, “you wouldn’t be talking to me about bribe money, would you? That’s illegal. Maybe you didn’t know it, but a customs official has got police powers. That means I could arrest you right here on the spot. What do you think of that?”
Longarm cocked his head. “Well,” he replied, “I don’t know what you’d be arresting me for. All I asked was your opinion on how much money you reckoned it would take to make cows fly. Ain’t no law against that, is there? I didn’t hear anybody in this room offer nobody a bribe. Did you?”
Caster grinned, showing his tobacco-stained teeth. “You kind of got a cute little way about you, Mister Long. Tell me,” he said, “did you hear around town that I might be the man to see if you wanted to get some cattle sailed on through in a hurry?”
Longarm shook his head slowly. “No, can’t say I did, Officer Caster. Is that what you call a customs official— officer?”
“Not generally.”
“Well, you was talking about police powers. I didn’t want to be taking too big a chance. No, I just got in town late yesterday evening. Ain’t really had time to talk all that much to anyone except bartenders.”
“You seem to have found Jasper White quick enough.”
“Oh, that.” Longarm pulled a face and brushed at the brim of his hat. “There’s a Jasper White in every town. They ain’t hard to find.”
“So you and him ain’t old buddies?”
Longarm looked up and locked eyes with Caster. “Met the man this morning. Over at a little cafe.”
“The Tejano.”
Longarm nodded. “That’s the one. I was having breakfast. Being so close to the bridge, I figured the owner might know something about how this place operated. I never brought cattle through here before.”
“So you spoke to Raymond.”
“Yeah. Raymond. Got a long last name.”
“San Diego. His brother works for me.”
“Does he now? He a customs official?”
Caster showed his brown teeth again. “Not exactly. He kind of works for me privately. Sort of makes sure things run smooth, if you take my meaning.”
“How would that be?”
“Oh, he just does.” Caster hunched forward and leaned his elbows on the desk. “You said you never brought cattle through here before. Of course I know that—I’d have remembered you otherwise. But this is kind of far to the southeast for a man driving cattle to Oklahoma. What caused you to pick Laredo?”
Longarm gave a whisper of a smile. “Oh, just seemed like a good place,” he said easily. “Get to see a different part of the country.”
“Have a little trouble up north of here, did you? At Del Rio and Eagle Pass?”
