Tabor Evans - Longarm on the Border

George was out of his chair by now, moving between Longarm and Spud, saying, "Hold yourself down, Spud! You know the boss don't like dustups in here!"

Over the house man's shoulder, Spud grated, "This ain't the time to settle with you, Custis. But stay outa my way! You hear?"

"Loud as you're yelling, I'd have to be deaf not to," Longarm replied quietly. When Spud began to sputter, he added, "I judge you ain't got any more to say, so I'll bid all you gents good night."

Deliberately turning his back on Spud, but watching the deputy in the flyspecked bar mirror, Longarm walked away.

Chapter 7

Before Longarm got to the bar, Billy-Bob caught up with him, waving the twenty-dollar gold piece that had gotten him over the hump in betting up the pot he'd just won.

"Mr. — Custis, ain't it? I don't know how to say thanks for helping me out. I'd be right proud to buy you a drink if you'll let me," the young cowhand said, handing Longarm the double eagle.

"You don't need to thank me. It'd be a hell of a sorry world if a man couldn't do something for somebody besides himself, once in a while."

"Just the same, I'd be proud to stand up and drink with you."

"Well, I won't say no to your invitation, Billy-Bob. What's the rest of your name, anyway?"

"Larkin. I work for the Bar Z Bar, down on Devils River."

"That's to the southeast, ain't it?" Billy-Bob nodded and Longarm asked, "Your friends Luke and Fiddler work there, too?"

"No, sir, they're from the next spread south, the Arrowhead."

"You been around here long?" They'd reached the bar; without asking, the barkeep set a bottle of Maryland rye in front of them.

"About two years." Billy-Bob cocked an eye at the bottle's label and asked, "Is this what you always drink, Mr. Custis?"

"Yep. I guess it's what folks call a cultivated taste."

"If it's good enough for you, it'll sure do for me."

The young hand poured the whiskey into the glasses the barman had put beside the bottle.

"Not a lot of ranches down this way, are there?" Longarm asked.

"No, sir. Not too many. The range is so poor, a spread's got to be mighty big around here. The Bar Z Bar foreman says it takes fifty acres to feed a steer."

"You folks bothered by rustlers much?"

"Haven't been since I got here. There's an awful lot going on up to the north, I hear. Up along Howard Creek and the South Concho and the Cemeche country."

"That so?" Longarm sipped thoughtfully before he put the next question. "You heard any talk about the Laredo Loop working again?"

Billy-Bob frowned. "I've heard it mentioned, is all. But didn't the Laredo Loop start someplace up above the Pecos?"

"It all began there." Longarm had been recalling, since he'd left Denver, all the stories he could remember about the across-the-border-and-back operation. "On up north from that place they call Vinagaroon. Then this fellow that's made himself a judge, Roy Bean, moved into Vinagaroon and set up some kind of six-shooter law. I got an idea the Loop's back in business, but it crosses into Mexico quite a way south of where it used to."

"You wouldn't be working for the cattleman's association, would you, Mr. Custis?"

"Nope. That kinda job wouldn't suit me a bit. I'm just sort of curious. Billy-Bob, you can do me a favor, if you will. Keep your ears open, and if you hear any talk about the Loop, or about rustlers, pass it on to me."

"Anything I can do to help you, I sure will," Billy-Bob promised. "Will you have another drink?"

"Guess not, but I thank you." Longarm looked across the room toward the poker tables. George, the house man, was sitting by himself, dealing solitaire.

The two-bit ante game was still going strong, but the men who'd been sitting in the money game had gone. He told the young cowboy, "I need to go talk to George a minute. Then I'm going to turn in. I had a right early start and a busy day."

"I'll look for you next time I'm in town," Billy-Bob promised.

"Maybe I'll hear something that'd help you. And thanks again for staking me."

"You needed it. I don't suppose you've played as much poker as I have, but for what it's worth, I'll tell you something I've found out. Learning the game's just like eating an apple. You take one bite at a time."

"I guess I see what you mean."

"Sure you do. Just remember to chew every bite up good, and don't bite off more'n you can gulp down without choking. I'll see you later on, son."

I'd be a sight better off if I took my own advice about biting and chewing, Longarm thought as he crossed to where George was sitting. For a while there, today, I came close to getting a bigger mouthful than I could swallow.

George looked up at Longarm's approach and said, "If you're looking for a game, this is about all that's going right now."

"Thanks, but poker's not on my mind tonight. I just wanted to say I'm sorry I busted things up for you a while ago."

"I was glad to see Billy-Bob get some help. That game was too rich for him, anyhow. No, I don't blame you a bit. That Spud's got a real hair-trigger temper. If he didn't work for Ed Tucker, I don't think I'd let him sit in on any game I was dealing."

"Well, he's been building up a real mad at me all day."

"I know. I watched you face down him and Ed's bunch in the plaza earlier today. It didn't surprise me when Spud blew up." George frowned and looked closely at Longarm. "Say, don't I know you from somewhere else?"

"You might. I've got around a little bit. Seems like I've seen you someplace, too."

"I move around. Most of us do; it's part of the trade. And we might've run into one another if you've been in Cheyenne or Helena or San Francisco or Denver in the past few years."

Longarm's memory clicked. "Sure. Denver. You ran a faro table at Big Jim Little's place, just down Holiday Street from Jennie Rogers's whorehouse."

"That I did, for damn near a year. I guess that's where I remember you from. But I can't recall your name. You a miner? Cattleman? You don't look like the kind that sits at a desk or stands back of a ribbon counter."

"I'm traveling now as Custis." Longarm knew that in the half-world of the professional gambler he needed only to use this phrase to warn George that he didn't want his identity revealed if the house man should remember him more clearly.

"I see." George nodded understandingly. "Well. Denver. It's a long way from Los Perros. I don't mean to pry, but the way you acted out on the plaza today, you sure didn't seem bashful."

"Now, I didn't say I'm on the dodge, did I? There's other reasons a man might have for changing handles."

"Sure, sure." The gambler dropped his voice. "I'll just tip you that if it's the law you're bothered about, you're safe in Los Perros as long as you stay on Ed Tucker's good side."

"I gather he's all the law there is here. How'd he work that out, you know?"

George shook his head. "I haven't been here all that long. From what I've heard, he just grew into the job. Had a few men behind him, more or less took over the town."

"That's about how I figured," Longarm nodded. "Tucker and your boss get along pretty good, don't they?"

Suddenly, the gambler's face stiffened and he dropped his confidential tone. "I suppose they do. Baskin would have to, wouldn't he, the business he's in?"

"Oh, I wasn't prying," Longarm said hastily. He stood up. "Well, now that I know I was right when I figured I'd seen you before, I'll sleep easier."

"Oh, come on, the night's early. Stay awhile, and we'll hash over Denver, and Big Jim and Jennie and Mattie Silks, and Vesta King, and all the gorgeous girls they had."

"Maybe tomorrow night, or the next. I started riding before sunup, and it's getting on for late."

"Sure. Later on, then, Custis. Sleep good."