you just try and survive it. Wear your eyes and ears out there. They is folks walking around will kill you for the boots on your feet, let alone your revolver and what change they think might be in your pockets. And we’re still a hundred and eighty miles from the bad part.”
Longarm said dryly, “I’ll be real careful, Marshal Davis. Wouldn’t want to bring no discredit on you. You lose a senior deputy the first day on the job, wouldn’t look good on your record. What time is our train for Laredo tomorrow?”
“Supposed to leave at eleven. Most times it does. I ain’t kidding about this town. San Antonio ain’t the border, but it’s still Mexico on both sides.”
“What about horses? I could requisition some mounts at one of these calvary stations right here. We could hire a stock car.”
“I got the horse situation all tended to,” Davis said. He pulled the door open. “See you at breakfast.”
“I hope you understand I am mighty particular about my riding stock,” Longarm said.
Austin Davis gave him a slow smile. “Tell me, Marshal, just what ain’t you mighty particular about?”
When Davis was gone, Longarm buckled on his gun belt. He carried a Colt .44 caliber with a six-inch barrel. He had another of the same model in his saddlebags, only with a nine-inch barrel. He seldom had use for it, but when he did, it was a mighty handy instrument for a distance that was a little too long for regular pistol work but too close for a rifle.
His gun belt featured a big, concave silver buckle. From the outside it appeared to be an ordinary if somewhat outsized buckle. But inside the curve of the buckle there was just enough room to conceal a .38 caliber derringer, kept in place by a strong steel spring. It had saved his life more than once. His lever-action carbine was the same caliber as his Colt revolver, which eliminated the necessity of buying different ammunition.
Lastly he put on his hat, a high-crowned pearl-gray beauty with a four-and-a-half-inch brim that curved up gracefully. It was a new hat and had cost him $45. Billy Vail had predicted it would be a wreck before he got back to town, but Longarm had vowed that this was one hat that was not going to see hard usage as most of his hats did. Billy Vail had just laughed.
He left his room and walked through the lobby, his boot heels echoing loudly in the deserted expanse. All around were big, overstuffed chairs and divans. In the morning they would be occupied by cattlemen talking business, but now those buyers and sellers were in bed, sleeping the sleep of men who knew they could trade cattle or horses with the best of them.
Longarm stepped out into the cool night. He stood a moment orienting himself. Some three blocks away was the big Military Plaza. When Texas had been a province of Mexico, the plaza had been a parade ground where the Mexican calvary had wheeled and maneuvered. Now it was a bricked-over park with trees and fountains and benches. But it was still bordered by the governor’s mansion and other government buildings that had been taken over by the Republic of Texas and later by the state when Texas entered the Union.
Longarm turned left out of the hotel and began walking in the general direction of the center of town. Even though it was late, he could see several saloons going full blast. There were not many people on the streets, but now and again he met a man walking or a woman sidling along, practicing her profession. Occasionally a horseman went by.
Peering in the window of the first saloon he passed, Longarm decided it looked like poor pickings and continued up the street. He really didn’t intend to stay out late. He’d simply been cooped up too long on the train and felt the urgent need to get out and stretch his legs. As he walked along, he mulled over the problem of the cattle inspector in Laredo. On the surface it seemed pretty easy, but Longarm was damned if he could figure how Jay Caster moved whole herds around without being obvious about it. As much as Longarm hated to admit it, Austin Davis was no slouch and if he hadn’t caught on to how it was done, it was a gut cinch that they had a job of work cut out for them.
He stepped into the second saloon he came to and stood at the bar for a drink of inferior whiskey while he looked over a couple of tables where poker was being played. After a few hands had been dealt, he could tell both were limit games and not worth his trouble. He preferred a dollar ante, pot limit game. It was the only way a man could use his money as a weapon. If you couldn’t bet enough to make a man check his character, you might as well turn all the cards face up and just play to see who had the best luck. Luck wasn’t something a real poker player counted on. Poker was a game of skill and science, requiring a thorough knowledge of human nature. Longarm had had some of his biggest nights when he never made a hand better than two pair.
He paid for his whiskey, leaving it half undrunk and then stepped out of the saloon and started for the next block. It was a dark area and, just as he was passing an alley, he heard a voice, close by, say, “Psst! Hey! You there!”
Longarm stopped. The mouth of the alley was dark to almost black, but he was able to make out a form there, for the man who’d hailed him was standing no more than ten feet away. Longarm also caught the glint of something in the man’s hand. “You talking to me?” he asked.
“See anybody else?”
“What do you want?”
The man chuckled hoarsely. “Now what you reckon I want? I want what’s in yore pockets. And I reckon I wouldn’t move was I you. I’m holding steady on yore middle, an’ I’ll blow a hole through you a horse could climb through if you so much as bat an eye.”
“You robbing me? Is that it?”
“Enough of this palaver. Turn out yore pockets an’ be damn quick ‘bout it. And while you be at it, move over this way a mite. An’ I wouldn’t let my hand git near my iron was I you. I ain’t gonna miss at this range.”
Longarm said calmly, trying to see the robber more clearly, “You better pick an easier target, mister.”
“You just never mind tellin’ me my bid’ness. You just turn and face me so’s I can see whatever is in yore mind and put a stop to it before you git up to mischief.”
Slowly, Longarm turned to his left. He knew that the man was going to order him to drop his gun, and he knew that once you let a situation start getting bad it never got better by itself. As he came fully around to face the man, he suddenly let his left leg collapse, falling full length toward the boardwalk on his side. As he fell, he heard the sharp explosion of the robber’s pistol, saw the orange-red flame of the shot erupt in the night, and heard the whiz of the bullet through the space where he had been standing.
