They lay content in each other’s arms until almost midnight, and only once did they speak and that was when Victoria asked, “Do you think we can find Bass and kill him before he spends all that Spanish treasure?”
“I hope so.”
“Me too. So much good could come of it despite its tragic history. I think that it should be used to save lives, or at least improve them.”
“That was Dan’s intention and I fully approve,” Longarm said. “Poor Jimmy Cox would have just spent it all in the saloons, but Dan will put it to good purpose.”
“If it isn’t all gone before we recover it.”
Longarm nodded and drifted off to sleep. He was too exhausted to ask Victoria where she thought they could best take up the notorious outlaw’s trail. Oh, well, they could talk that over tomorrow morning.
Chapter 18
Hank Bass had vanished like smoke in a high wind. Longarm and Victoria had returned to Wickenburg and done everything in their power to gain some hint of where the man had gone to hiding. But no one knew or was about to tell on the outlaw’s whereabouts. Part of it was fear, but Longarm wondered if Bass had simply holed up in some isolated place where it was very unlikely he would be found.
“He’s smarter than I’d figured,” Longarm said one hot afternoon as they left Tucson drifting south and asking questions of everyone they met. “Bass hasn’t even spent any of those gold coins.”
“If he did,” Victoria said, “he knows that the news of it would spread like a wildfire.”
“That’s right,” Longarm agreed. “But from what I can gather, Hank Bass is a man who likes to spend money on his pleasures, and so I can’t imagine that hewould be able to hold on to those gold coins for very long. Especially after he gets down near the border and starts to romancing his senoritas.”
“Custis, has it occurred to you that he might intend to ride deep into Mexico?”
“Yes, and the trouble is, I have no authority down there and in fact am not supposed to even cross the border.”
“But if he is in Mexico, we can’t just let him go free,” Victoria protested. “With all that Spanish gold, he may never return to the United States. Why should he take the chance of being caught or arrested?”
“He wouldn’t,” Longarm replied. “But we’ve learned from asking questions that Hank Bass likes beautiful women, liquor, and gambling. Any one of those can quickly drain away all of a man’s money. And I’ll tell you something, the Mexicans who live near the border are experts in separating a gringo from his dollars or his gold.”
“So are we going to ride all the way to the border?”
“I think that’s our best hope,” Longarm answered. “I don’t really know what else we can do. The last information we’ve gotten is that Bass was seen riding south. My hunch is that he did cross the border but that he’ll remain very near it. Most outlaws like to keep the border in sight—just in case some corrupt Mexican authorities attempt to extort them for their gold or American dollars.”
“I see.”
“I have a few old friends on both sides of the border near Nogales,” Longarm said. “If our man is anywhere near there, I’ll learn about it.”
“Would you go deep into Mexico after him?”
“You bet I would,” Longarm vowed. “After what he did to you and others, I’d not hesitate a minute to cross the border even if it meant risking my badge.”
Victoria reached out and took his hand. “I’m sure that we can find something to do while we wait for Hank Bass to come back from Old Mexico.”
Longarm read the wanton look in her eyes and he knew that Victoria was right and that they would have no trouble whiling away the time. The trouble was, Longarm was not an especially patient man and neither was his boss, Billy Vail.
He’d sent a telegram to Billy from Tucson, requesting additional travel funds and also sketching out his progress on the case. He’d told Billy he’d managed to put an end to the Bass gang, but that Hank was still on the run. Billy had replied in a terse telegram that made it clear he was not very happy with Longarm’s progress, but he had also forwarded another hundred dollars for travel expenses.
“Victoria,” Longarm said, “I’m afraid we’re about to receive some bad company.”
The three riders had appeared from behind a hill. Longarm rested his shotgun across his saddle horn, just in case. This was a cruel, rugged country and he was not about to take any chances, especially in Victoria’s company. She was a beauty and would be worth a small fortune to some wealthy Mexican rancher or official. The slave trade was nothing new in this desert southwest, and Longarm was making sure that he could protect Victoria.
“Trouble?” she asked, unable to hide her sudden anxiety.
“We’ll find out. I gave you a pistol, why don’t you slip it into your riding skirt … just in case.”
“All right.”
Longarm noticed that the three hard-looking riders reined their horses away from each other a few yards, which was definitely not a good sign. Two of them wore Mexican sombreros, but the one in the middle was a tall, bearded white man whose dress and saddle indicated he was a Texan.
“Victoria,” Longarm said without taking his eyes off the approaching riders, “did you just see how they fanned out a little?”
“Yes.”
“That’s almost a sure giveaway that they mean bad trouble,” Longarm told her.
