Jasper nod curtly and walk out of the bar. After the man was gone Longarm called for another large whiskey, and then he sat back and began trying to figure out how they were going to succeed in carrying off an operation that was becoming more and more complicated. One thing he did need to do was get over to a bank and make arrangements for them to receive funds in his name. He didn’t know where he was going to get such funds, or more to the point, how he was going to get such funds, but he did know that arrangements had to be made to receive the money. But it was Saturday, and the clock on the wall behind the bar showed it to be half past noon. After finding out from the bartender that the local banks definitely closed at twelve noon, Longarm relaxed. That was one thing, at least, he didn’t have to worry about today. The banks were closed and he couldn’t do a thing about that. Matters would simply have to wait until Monday. He picked up his new whiskey and began sipping at it reflectively. Then a thought hit him. “What’s the biggest bank in town?” he asked the bartender.
The bartender shrugged. “First National of Laredo, I reckon. At least they claim to be.”
Longarm got up quickly, leaving two dollars on the table. “Is there still a train going north this afternoon?” he asked.
“Yeah, San Antonio Express. But it leaves at one o’clock. You ain’t got much time.”
“Oh, I ain’t going,” Longarm said. “Just seeing a friend off.”
He hurried out of the bar and began walking as fast as he could toward the depot. Once again he was breaking his vow against walking, but he didn’t see what he could do about it.
Chapter 7
It was a long hard trip. Longarm had to ride the train over a hundred miles before they got to a town that had a telegraph office, Hondo; a little village that existed because it had once been an important jumping-off place for herds that were trailing to the far north. Now it made its living off the railroad and such businesses and ranching as were in its vicinity.
But then, once Longarm had got the telegram off to Billy Vail with instructions about the money, he realized he’d have been better off going on to San Antonio because he was stuck in Hondo until the next southbound train came through, out of San Antonio, and that wasn’t due until two in the morning. At least in San Antonio there would have been some first-rate bars and a chance at a real poker game. His disgust almost knew no bounds when he finally found a game being played in a place that was half saloon and half feed store. The game was a nickle ante, quarter limit. He barely managed to choke out “No, thanks,” when he’d been invited to sit in.
In the end he’d taken a room at a rickety hotel and, armed with a bottle of whiskey had spent the time until two A.M. drinking and dozing and feeling bitter. He was bitter because, by rights, such a job should have been handled by Austin Davis. It was a chore for the junior member of the team. But Longarm had been afraid to wait until Davis showed up. There might not have been enough time to send him off on the train to a telegraph station and time for the money to be sent. Caster was too impatient, and Longarm had no intention of giving him any excuse to slip out of the noose, especially now that he knew James Mull was coming. He had telegraphed Billy to have five thousand dollars sent by wire to the First National Bank of Laredo, to be held for C. Long. He had not used his first name because of the nagging fear that someone would recognize it. Unlikely as that was, he didn’t see any point in taking a chance.
He got back to the Hamilton Hotel just as the sun was threatening to rise, a little before six. He had breakfast in the hotel dining room and then went to his room, armed himself with a few stiff drinks, and got into bed. On top of everything else his bad tooth, seemingly aggravated by the jolting and banging of the train, had ached the whole time he was in Hondo. It was a little quieter now, but he had every intention, once he’d had a nap, of finding an apothecary open on Sunday and getting himself a supply of laudanum or morphine or anything he could find that would give him some rest from the pain.
He slept until early afternoon and then got up, slowly and sleepily and sat on the side of the bed and yawned. He was grumpy and felt ill-tempered. He hated it when his sleep pattern got all turned around. Now, more than likely, he wouldn’t be able to sleep in the night ahead and it would take him a week to get back on schedule.
After he’d had a drink or two and smoked a cigarillo, he got up, feeling creaky, and took a kind of half-bath out of the wash basin, then shaved and put on a fresh set of clothes. After that he went into the dining room and talked a waiter into getting him something to eat, even though it was long past time for serving the midday meal. The waiter managed to get him a steak and potatoes and some stewed peaches. Longarm had that with coffee and, after paying his check, gave the waiter two dollars, one for himself and one for the cook. He did not ordinarily throw money around like that, but he fully intended charging it to the U.S. Marshal Service as expenses, and Billy Vail be damned.
Sunday afternoons were when the gay blades of the town and the eligible senoritas promenaded around the plaza, the girls walking in one direction, the men in the other. Longarm wandered out to watch the young men strut and the girls try to flirt without getting caught by their severe-looking chaperones.
The Laredo plaza was a big one for a town of its size. Almost a hundred yards long and half as wide, it had a bandstand and a fountain in the middle, with benches and chairs scattered about and a pleasant sprinkling of oak, elm, and even a magnolia here and there. It was paved with flagstone and offered a nice view of the river and the International Bridge. From its center Longarm could almost see Caster’s office. Wondering where Austin Davis was, he sure as hell hoped he was getting close.
He finally took refuge under a magnolia in the northeast corner of the plaza, right at the edge. He had seen the woman named Dulcima walking at the far end, and he had retreated to the hotel side to be well out of her way. The last thing he wanted or needed was for Raoul San Diego to come gunning for him over his woman.
But she did make a striking figure, even at a distance, walking along the south side of the plaza, about midway, clad in a pink dress of some shiny material that Longarm reckoned to be silk. She was carrying a closed pink parasol over her shoulder, and her gown was of a length that now and then allowed Longarm to catch a glimpse of her trim ankles beneath the ruffled hem. But it wasn’t her ankles that drew his eyes so much as the swell of her breasts and her small waist that fed into the flare of her hips. Dulcima was, indeed, a very tasty-looking woman.
He kept watching her as she reached the eastern end of the plaza and abruptly turned north. She was no more than sixty yards off, and it appeared to Longarm that she was headed directly for him. But, of course, he knew that was nonsense. She was just walking the third leg of her promenade, and would turn back west when she got to the corner. Besides, he was in the shade of the magnolia and he doubted she could see him very well from out in the bright sunshine.
She kept walking. When she got to the point when she should have turned west, she kept straight on, walking directly toward him. Suddenly Longarm was in a panic, wondering if he’d offended her in some way by eyeing her so closely. But, hell, every other man in the plaza was doing the same thing, and that was the reason she was here, to be looked at. The other women promenading were declaring themselves to be eligible, but everyone in town knew that Dulcima wasn’t up for grabs—not unless a man wanted to lose his hands.
But she was coming straight toward him, a small smile playing over her full red lips. Ten feet away, she took
