The dazed Heman said, “I have to sit down. I am going to puke if I don’t. Where are you going, Sergeant?”
His leader said, “Out to make some arrests, if we can get through that damned mob. Sit down if you must, I don’t see how he could still be anywhere in the building. But if he is, and you let him escape again, you won’t have to worry about your weak stomach, you poor stupid cabren!” he waved his drawn .45 at the others and charged out into the jam-packed street, pistol-whipping a path through the crowd.
The two men remaining in the lobby moved over to an overstuffed chair with a potted palm sprouting above it. The rurale Longarm had left in a dazed but meditative mood sank down in the soft seat, lowered his head to his knees, and moaned, “He can’t fool me. I know where he’s going.”
His comrade asked where and Heman said, “Los Estados Unidos. That’s where I am going as soon as I feel up to riding again. El Presidente will never be satisfied with standing less than the whole detail against the wall if that bastard gets away.”
His comrade sighed and replied, “Es verdad. But the night is still young and how far could he have gotten by this time?”
Don Julio Valdez had in fact never left the wardrobe in the room where they’d been holding him. But as the upper stories of the hotel returned to normal, Longarm rolled out of the bed he’d been sharing, platonically, with the fair dance-hall gal called Rosalinda, and told her to get dressed. She said she would but added, with a hurt look, she’d seldom been in bed with a man who didn’t even remove his gun rig.
Longarm laughed and cracked the door ajar. He saw the coast was clear, but made good use of his gun rig as he went upstairs to get Valdez out of that wardrobe. He told the Mexican to carry the mirror and stick tight. When Valdez asked how come, Longarm explained, “If we mount that glass back where we found it they’ll never figure out how we did it.”
Valdez said that sounded fair and they were soon downstairs with the others. The middle-aged but macho Valdez put up more of an argument when the Great Costello ordered him into the red satin dress and black lace mantilla another lady had been wearing when she checked in. Longarm told him, “Do it. When three gents check into a hotel dressed sort of casual, with three gals dressed sort of cheap and flashy—no offense, senoritas—nobody expects ‘em to spend more than an hour or so upstairs. The management knows that it won’t be long before more serious lawmen are asking questions about every guest in this hotel, so they ought to be only too happy to see you leaving with El Gato, little darling.”
Valdez said he understood, even if he didn’t like it, and just plain refused to take off his pants. El Gato turned to the gal who’d exchanged her red dress for dowdy black and told her, “You must go with God, now, my little patriot. It is important that they see you leaving alone, with no connection to us as far as they can see, if they notice you at all.”
She asked what would happen to her if they did, and El Gato told her he would burn a candle for her and someday her name might be inscribed on a monument to all the brave ones who’d laid down their lives for Mexico. She laughed, gallantly, said she doubted there’d be room enough on any one slab of marble, and moved to the door. Longarm saluted her, even though she was the one who needed a bath the most.
They gave her a good five minutes. By this time they had Don Julio passing for a mighty thick-waisted and flat-assed dance-hall gal, if nobody looked too close. The Great Costello, nearest the window, said, “There went the last volley of skyrockets. Things will soon be getting back to normal. We’d better go for it, now.”
They did. They sweated bullets going down all those stairs, but as they crossed the lobby they saw one of the rurales posted there barely glanced their way and his pal, bent over in a chair, never even looked up. The desk clerk didn’t even want to notice them and ignored the keys Longarm tossed on the counter top.
They were across the crowded main street and heading up an alley Longarm might not have noticed if El Gato hadn’t been in the lead with the disguised Don Julio. Once they were deeper into the dark stinky maze, the man they’d rescued began to strip off the female duds, saying, “Bueno. Where do we mount up for some riding, amigos?”
El Gato said, “We don’t. The horses we rode down on are safe enough where they are and, not likely to inform on us. By this time the small detail that was holding you will have enlisted la policia ciudad and los federales. They will have roadblocks set up all around, and there are few places one can cross the Rio Bravo when it’s in flood.”
Valdez protested, “Damn it, we can’t just stay here.”
El Gato told him, “I know. That is why we are on our way to the house of ill repute these girls work for. The first floor is a big cantina. The second floor is lined with cribs. Few rurales or federales who come in for to get drunk or laid could know there is a third story, above the cribs, see?”
The rescued Mexican laughed but asked, “Are you sure we can trust women who enjoy sex with the enemy?”
Rosalinda, clinging to Longarm’s arm, sniffed indignantly and said, “Shame on you. How can we enjoy it when they never pay?”
Her comrade in arms added, “Si, we fight for a free country where nobody gets to screw a woman por nada unless she really likes him.”
So the four men and their two patriotic ladies of the evening made their way through the inky maze, guided by El Gato’s amazing night vision, to the last place los rurales might search for them. The attic of their favorite whorehouse.
Chapter 16
“What is the matter with you?” asked Rosalinda in the privacy of her own quarters under the sloping roof. “Do you scorn me because of the business I’m in, or are you one of those men who prefers young boys?”
Longarm chuckled as he reclined on one elbow aboard the one item of furniture there was in the tiny room, the sleeping mat, and said, “Land’s sake, Rosalinda, we just crept up the back stairs with the whole place crawling with the law.”
She hugged her knees at the far end of the mat to insist, “Pooh, the madam says all the lawmen in town are out looking for you caballeros. This floor is solid and we have no bedsprings for to worry about. I can understand your coldness back at that hotel—I confess I was worried myself—but we got away as planned and, damn it, all this excitement has made me feel most passionate.”
Longarm knew himself well enough to guess he might be feeling more like celebrating if he hadn’t spent
