Longarm shook his head. “No. Caster has got his mind set on me doing it this way. He may have heard about me and Dulcima having that little talk on the square and this appeals to his sense of humor. I’ve been acting the part of the businessman who don’t see no profit in fighting. Maybe he’s got it in mind for San Diego to throw a good scare into me.”
Davis looked thoughtful. “Or he could be setting you up. It might not be in fun. You think on that? I noticed you haven’t been wearing a cutaway holster like you usually do.”
“Didn’t seem to fit the part of the cattleman. But I got the cutaway in my saddlebags. No, I don’t think he’s trying to get me killed. I still owe him too much money.”
“Yeah, but he’s got your cattle. Who claims them if you get killed? He don’t know they belong to the South Texas coastal plains ranchers association. Or whatever it is.”
Longarm shrugged. “Well, it can’t be helped. I’ll just have to try and talk my way out of any trouble I get into. I don’t want to kill San Diego, but I reckon you can guess what choice I’ll make if it comes to it.”
“I reckon I better bird-dog you.”
Longarm rubbed his jaw. His tooth had picked a hell of a time to start gnawing at him again. He shook his head. “I reckon you better not, Austin. Caster liable to see you and there’d be hell to pay and not much way to explain it. Besides, San Diego might spot you.”
“I can look like a tree when I’ve a mind to. No, I won’t get too close. Besides, you ain’t paid me off. Most natural thing in the world is for me not to want to let you out of my sight.”
Longarm grimaced. “Well, do what you think is best.” He gave Davis a crooked smile. “After all, this is your scheme.”
“You pick the damndest times to remember it.”
“Don’t I?” Longarm wheeled his horse around. “I’ll see you.”
He rode back into town, making a quick stop at the bank, and then started out a little road that led to the east and down toward the river. The twenty-five hundred was in his saddlebags in big bills, twenties and over.
A half mile out of town he could clearly see the house sitting up on a solitary hill in the featureless terrain. It was painted a startling white, made even more so by the drab brown of the surrounding countryside. Longarm kicked his horse up into a slow lope, eager to have the chance to see Dulcima again even though he knew it might be a dangerous encounter and certainly one that could not lead to anything. But he was also curious to have a closer look at, and perhaps a few words with, the cold and venomous-appearing Raoul San Diego. He wasn’t worried about his ability to handle the man, not so long as he didn’t turn his back.
He rounded a grove of mesquite trees, and the road rose up straight toward the house. Now he could see that it was fairly big, with three or four rooms on the bottom story and then, in the middle, a second story perched atop the bottom like a child’s building block. As he rode closer, he could see that the lower story had small, casement- like windows and that the house was constructed of half lumber and half concrete or adobe. There were a few small outbuildings behind the house and a small corral, but it was clear the place was a town house that had wound up in the country. Nowhere was there a sign of any ranching or other working activity.
A porch ran the entire length of the lower story, with a roof that jutted out from the body of the house and a floor raised about six inches off the ground, made of heavy lumber planks. There were several tables and quite a few chairs scattered around on the porch. The roof of the porch, just like the roof of the house, was constructed of the red clay tiles found on houses of quality all over Mexico and along the border.
When Longarm was within a hundred yards of the place, the road dipped off to the left and a little driveway continued on toward the house. He veered to his right, pulling his horse down to a walk. It was time to start getting cautious. He looked back, thinking he might see some sign of Austin Davis tailing him, but the country was too thick with brush and groves of mesquite and stunted post oak. Austin Davis could have been within shouting range and Longarm wouldn’t have seen him. Besides, he wasn’t even sure that Davis was coming.
There was a hitching rail right in front of the porch, and he stopped his horse just short of it and sat the saddle for a moment, studying the house, especially the windows and the upper story. As he’d neared the place, he’d seen a few women working around the back, but they appeared to be intent on the wash and a kitchen garden. There had been a couple of horses in the corral, but they’d looked as if they been there for some time. Both had been standing three-legged, resting one leg, their heads down, baking in the sun. Other than that, Longarm had seen no movement about the place. If Raoul San Diego was at home, he was either still in bed or not at all curious about who might be approaching. Neither he nor anyone else had appeared in any of the windows. For that matter, Longarm wondered if Dulcima was around. He didn’t know what the custom was at this particular house, but if he’d lived here, with the reputation that Raoul San Diego had, one of the women working out back had better have come in and announced that someone was approaching or she’d have been out of a job. Yet none of the servants had paid Longarm the slightest attention, and, he figured, if he could see them, they could see him.
He climbed slowly out of the saddle and took a second to loosen his revolver in the much bigger, cutaway holster he was wearing. Then he tied his horse to the rail, took three strides and stepped up on the porch.
The front door was a large, wooden affair without a screen. It was ornate, and Longarm took it to be mahogany or some other exotic wood. He lifted the brass knocker and gave a light tap or two on the door. He waited a moment and no one came. He lifted the knocker again and was about to bang harder, when the door was suddenly pulled wide open. For a second he couldn’t see into the dim interior. He knew someone was standing right in front of him, and he could tell it was a woman by the shape and the faint scent of perfume, but he couldn’t see clearly. “I’ve come to see Raoul San Diego,” he said. “I’ve got business.”
“That ees right. You have beesness, but your beesness ees with me.”
Then Longarm’s eyes adjusted and he could clearly see that it was Dulcima. For a moment he was so startled by the way she was dressed that he opened his mouth but couldn’t think of a thing to say. She stood before him, in her bare feet, with a serape around her neck. It was highly colored and gay, with tassels, and it came down to just below her knees. It covered her breasts and the left and right of her front, but it was open in the middle revealing her nude body. He could see the shining blackness of her thick pubic hair, could see the faintly dusky silk of her inner thighs, the faint rise of her belly with its small navel. He swallowed and stammered out something and was about to step back, when, with a quick motion, she took the serape off over head and flipped it around his neck. The next thing he knew she was pulling him into the house as neatly as a roped calf. He said, still stammering, “Dulcima, wha-What the hell, uh, are you doing?”
“You have come to see me, no?” she said.
He stared at her. He couldn’t help himself. She was one of those small-boned, small-waisted women with
