“So what do we do?”
“Expect the worst. Damn, but I wish that I hadn’t allowed you to come this far south with me!”
“I’ll be all right,” she replied, voice sounding high and strained but filled with resolve. “I’ve got the pistol in my hand now and I won’t hesitate to use it.”
“Let’s just hope that it doesn’t come to that,” Longarm said as he drew in his horse and raised his hand in a gesture of peace and greeting.
The three riders didn’t acknowledge the greeting, but they finally did draw in their horses. The white man wore a battered old Stetson and he thumbed it back on his brow, then stared at Victoria with a thick-lipped and lecherous smile that made Longarm’s blood boil.
“Mister, do you have some problem with your eyes?” Longarm asked, ignoring the two Mexicans, who looked plenty dangerous in their own rights.
The white man finally tore his glance from Victoria and regarded Longarm. He was big, filthy, and missing his upper front teeth. Long wisps of dirty brown hair sprayed out from under his hat, and his shirt was unbuttoned almost to his navel so that his hairy chest glistened with sweat. Like the Mexicans, this man wore two pistols and had a rifle stuffed into his saddle boot. All three of them gave Longarm a cold stare that left little doubt of their sinister intentions.
“She’s real pretty,” the man with the Stetson finally said, grinning like a fool. “Prettiest woman I seen in a long, long time.”
“She’s mine,” Longarm said flatly. “And we’re on our way to Nogales.”
“Why?”
“What do you mean?” Longarm asked.
“If I had me a woman as pretty as this, I wouldn’t go anywhere! I’d just stay in bed with her until I was all fucked down to a nubbin.”
Longarm had heard enough. There was no longer any question that these three men would try to kill him and take Victoria and their outfit. And since that was the case, it was always better to start the play and give yourself the edge, especially when the odds were stacked against you.
“Victoria, are you ready?” he asked softly.
“I am,” Victoria said, her voice a thin whisper.
The big man cocked his head like a big vulture. “What are you both jabbering about?”
“This,” Longarm said, whipping the shotgun up and pulling the trigger.
The big man was knocked flying from his horse, and when one of the Mexicans proved himself very fast with a gun, Longarm used his second load even as he heard Victoria’s gun bark twice.
The battle was decided in just a few heartbeats, and then Longarm was dragging Victoria from her saddle and holding her tight.
“I feel like I’m going to get very sick,” she gasped, taking deep lungfuls of air. “I never killed anyone before.”
“It’s not something that you ever get used to,” Longarm told her. “But you did what you had to do.”
Longarm was about to say more, but the rider that Victoria had shot moved. Spinning Victoria around so that he shielded her body, Longarm put another slug in the bandito.
He holstered his gun and took Victoria back into his arms, saying, “Now you don’t need to get sick because I killed him instead of you.”
Victoria nodded but she still looked quite pale. “Can we just get out of here?”
“Sure,” Longarm said. “As soon as I catch up their horses and pack them to the nearest cemetery.”
“What will you do with their outfits?” Victoria asked.
“Sell ‘em because I’m underpaid and need the extra cash.”
Longarm reloaded his gun and then he went to round up the three horses. He soon had the bodies lashed down over their saddles, and a few hours later they delivered them to a small village named Arivaca. As expected, their appearance caused quite a stir in the little town. Longarm inquired about a local marshal and wasn’t a bit surprised to learn there was none.
“You got a cemetery over yonder,” he said, pointing. “Someone here must act as the undertaker.”
“Mr. Blades who runs the cafe,” the wizened old gent who ran the run-down livery and whose name was Willy said. “I seen them three dead ones plenty of times. Mister, you did this part of the country a favor by killing those murderin’ sidewinders.”
“I expected that I might have,” Longarm replied. “You interested in buying their outfits?”
“Ain’t got much money.”
“It won’t take much money,” Longarm answered. “Willy, just pay me fifty dollars each and they’re yours.”
“Thirty.”
“Forty or we take them on down to Nogales and double that price. The saddles are worth twenty all by themselves. And when you add in the blankets, bridles, and …”
“One hundred dollars and that’s all the money I have in this world. I swear it is!” Willy exclaimed.
“Okay, providing you give me some information.”
The old man squinted. “Information can get pretty expensive. What kind are you looking for?”
