es?”
Seeing this was no time to be taken for smart, Longarm called back in English, “Howdy. I am U.S. Deputy Marshal Long, on the trail of an Anglo outlaw. I don’t suppose you boys have seen a runty rascal on a handsome chestnut gelding?”
His unseen questioner switched to bad English and replied, “We heard someone crossing the river just now. He did not seem fit for to stop when I yelled halt. We were about to cross over and see where he might have fallen. You, of course, are under arrest and, if you try anything funny, you shall die right here, slowly.”
Another voice called out, “Si, is fun for to gut-shoot you gringos. You do not know for how to die with dignity.”
Longarm said, “I can see you boys have to be rurales. Before you gut-shoot anybody, you’d best listen tight. For despite your surly manners I’m a friendly cuss, and I just might be able to save your asses for you.”
Their leader moved close enough to Longarm to make him out as a blur, albeit his sergeant’s stripes weren’t visible as he sort of purred, “I am a sweetheart, too, except when you suckers of pigs’ corkscrew cocks are around. Say something friendly, gringo.”
“Don Julio Valdez got away clean,” Longarm said. “You’re never going to catch him, now.”
There was a moment of ominous silence before the rurale leader opined, “That did not sound so friendly. How do you know about the escape of that political prisoner, gringo?”
“A little pussy cat I know told me. Before you get your bowels in an uproar, I don’t know where El Gato and old Valdez might be right now. So tying me down atop an ant pile would be a waste of time and you boys don’t have much time.”
“We are still listening, gringo. So are the ants.”
“Shit, nothing you can do to me will smart as much as what El Presidente’s professional torturers are going to do to you, if you ever fall into their hands after letting Valdez get away. You know you don’t know how he done it, and I know you don’t know how he done it, but before old Diaz is convinced, you’re all going to suffer considerable.”
The rurale sergeant purred, “You won’t be there to see it whether they catch us or not.”
“We’re running out of dark as well as time. It’s got to be after four in the morning and none of us want to be on this side of the border when the sun pops up. So cut the gringo-baiting, listen tight, and I’ll tell you what you ‘d best do.”
“you are going to tell us?” their sergeant roared as all the others laughed. The laughing men added up to more than a dozen.
Longarm said, “Damned if the skyline ain’t visible over to the east, now. You boys could gun me for my boots or the hell of it, and likely make it across the river before it’s broad-ass day. But then where would you go in them big rurale hats? Even the Anglos are sore at you in El Paso and, if army patrols from Fort Bliss ain’t patting down every cactus for miles for hidden weapons, their post commander has neither imagination nor ambition worth mention.”
“Bah, I spit in his mother’s milk. We are neither Apache nor mere bandits. We know a thing or two about such matters.”
“I ain’t finished and I’m glad you’ve done such tracking your ownselves. It saves having to explain the odds in detail. Suffice it to say you’re talking about hiding out a large party of new faces under big hats, with no visible means of support, on range they’ve never rode before. Any Tex-Mex you meet is likely to shoot first and ask about them rurale uniforms later. I doubt many an Anglo-Tex would ask questions before or after, and since it was your own government who had the great notion about Indian scalps being cash redeemable, we’d best not even talk about you boys meeting up with Apache if you make for less populated parts.”
The rurale sergeant shrugged and said, “You have made your point. We shall have to keep our wits about us until we get some money and gringo hats. But we are used to getting what we want.”
“I can still show you how to avoid your perhaps just desserts from Mexico without taking on the U.S. and Texas combined. But why don’t we talk about it on the far side of the river? Yonder horizon is pearling by the minute and I can already see the tops of fourteen big gray hats at this range.”
The rurale sergeant seemed to think that was a sensible notion and so they were soon all mounted up and fording the Rio Bravo in a bunch, with Longarm in the middle. A couple of them made rude remarks about him in Spanish. He didn’t let on as if he understood. So they got to talking more freely in their own lingo, and it was good to hear they didn’t plan on shooting him down like a dog until he’d gotten them someplace safer.
By the time they’d ridden a few miles north he could see the features of the rurale sergeant riding to his right. The Mex was larded over some from self-indulgence, but big and mean as one had to be to ride for such a mean outfit. As the rising sun gilded the tips of the mesquite and cactus all around, he asked Longarm just where they might be headed. So Longarm said, “Fort Bliss. You’ll like it. The starting pay for a U.S. Cavalry trooper is thirteen dollars a month and all the beans he can eat. How much do they pay you rurales in peso paper?”
“They expect us to pick up a little extra on the side. But you can’t be serious, you just said your army is out looking for us!”
Longarm nodded and said, “I did. I doubt they’ll be expecting you to ride in for breakfast. With me vouching for you, I can promise you breakfast at least. Whether they’re willing to take you in entire or not will be up to them, of course.”
The sergeant laughed like hell, turned in his saddle, and called out, “This crazy cabren wants us to join the Americano army!” and while some laughed, at least a couple opined it sounded safer, if not easier, than joining the Apache nation.
The sergeant turned back to Longarm and repeated that he was crazy, adding, “Who ever heard of anyone but yanquis joining the yanqui army?”
“Me. More than half of the enlisted men are immigrants. Most of the native-born who join are colored. I never said it was considered a good job. A man can make a lot more as a cowhand, if he don’t mind working hard.”
The larded-over sergeant rode on in silence for a time before he growled, “Tell me, how difficult do you think it would be for a man with my military experience to make a few stripes in your own army?”
