Longarm’s own saddle was back in his hotel room, and he didn’t want to take the time to retrieve it. “Thanks,” he grunted. “I’ll take the saddle too.”
“I’ll get the best one I’ve got while you’re putting a blanket on the mare,” the stableman offered.
Within a few minutes, they had the bay mare ready to ride. Longarm swung up into the borrowed saddle, and found it not as comfortable as his own but passable. He nodded to the stable man, said, “Much obliged,” and heeled the bay into a run that carried it out of the livery and into the street. The outlaws had headed south, which came as no surprise to Longarm. He expected that they were fleeing across the border again. If anything had happened to slow them down, however, there was still a chance that he might be able to catch up to them before they reached the Rio Grande. As he galloped out of Del Rio, he could smell the haze of dust still floating in the air. That was an encouraging sign, an indication that he wasn’t too far behind the outlaws. There had been at least a dozen of them, and the tracks their horses had left were visible in the light of the moon and stars floating in the ebony sky overhead. The trail arrowed straight south, as Longarm had expected it would. He rode hard, but with each long stride of the bay, his spirits sank a little. It didn’t take long to reach the river, and along the way he saw nothing except the tracks leading south. “Damn it,” he said aloud as he pulled the horse to a stop on the Texas side of the Rio Grande. The river was fairly wide here and ran between low sandy banks. The tracks leading into the stream were plain to see. Faintly, very faintly, Longarm could hear the pounding of hoofbeats from somewhere across the river. The sound faded away completely as he sat there seething. Every instinct in his body, every fiber of his being, called out for him to ride across there and go after them. Under other circumstances, that was probably exactly what he would have done. But back there a couple of miles in Del Rio, representatives of the U.S. and Mexican governments had been meeting to discuss this very border, and Longarm knew it would look bad for him to so flagrantly violate it as he was considering. If he crossed the Rio Grande, he would be alone over there, with no jurisdiction. Of course, it wouldn’t be the first time ... and there was something else to consider—Sonia Guiterrez. She was the daughter of the head of the Mexican delegation. Surely that would carry some weight.
Still, the right thing to do, Longarm knew, was to turn around and go back to Del Rio so that he could find out how Don Alfredo wanted to proceed. Added to that was the fact that Longarm’s job here in Texas was to protect the diplomats, not to go chasing after owlhoots, no matter who they might have kidnapped. Logically, he had to return to Del Rio, so he turned the bay around and prodded it into a ground-eating trot toward the town.
But it was still one of the hardest things he had ever done.
By the time he reached Del Rio, some of the citizens were on the street again, wandering around and looking dazed. Longarm had seen the same reaction during the war, in men who had been part of too many battles. These townspeople weren’t used to being raided by bloodthirsty bandits and having to dive for cover at a moment’s notice. They didn’t care about the discussions between the U.S. and Mexico or the representatives of either side. All they wanted was for their lives to get back to normal.
Don Alfredo Guiterrez rushed out of the hotel as Longarm brought the horse to a stop in front of it. “Senor Long!” he exclaimed before Longarm could even begin to swing down from the saddle. “Did you find my daughter?” The tremble in Don Alfredo’s voice made it clear that he was very afraid of the answer, whatever it might turn out to be.
“I didn’t see any sign of her,” Longarm replied honestly. He dismounted and looped the reins over the hitch rack, then turned once more to Don Alfredo. “It sure looked to me like El Aguila’s bunch took her over into Mexico with them.”
A string of Spanish curses exploded from Don Alfredo’s mouth. The man was normally so dignified that to see him this frazzled made things seem even worse, thought Longarm. Don Alfredo clutched at his arm and asked, “Why would they take her? Why?”
Normally, Longarm didn’t care for folks grabbing him like that, but he figured he could let it pass this time. Guiterrez was mighty shaken up, as well he should be. Longarm explained, “It looked to me like Sonia was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. One of those owlhoots saw her and decided on the spur of the moment to snatch her up. I think they came into town in the first place to try to kill Sheriff Sanderson.”
Don Alfredo passed a shaking hand over his face. “The sheriff, he is all right?”
“As far as I know, he probably will be. He’s got a busted arm and some cuts and bruises, but he’s in pretty good shape for a man whose office was blasted with dynamite.”
“Dios mio,” breathed Don Alfredo. “Are there any depths to which this El Aguila will not stoop?”
“There don’t seem to be.”
Don Alfredo clenched his right hand into a fist and pounded it into the palm of his left. “Sonia should not have been out of the hotel,” he declared, anger warring now with the fear in his tone. “Who is responsible for that?”
“Reckon I am,” Longarm said slowly, even though he had been away from the hotel at the time and Coffin had been supposed to keep an eye on things. “I’m responsible for the safety of your party, Don Alfredo, and I’m afraid I’ve let you down. That’s why I want to cross the Rio Grande and try to get your daughter back from El Aguila’s gang.”
“No!” The sharp retort came from the door of the hotel. Captain Hernandez, the little federate, stepped out onto the boardwalk and glared at Longarm in the light that came through the lobby windows. “You have no jurisdiction in Mexico, Senor Long.”
“I know that,” said Longarm, “but I still feel like it’s my responsibility.”
A new voice came from the doorway, but it was equally emphatic.
“Absolutely not,” said Franklin Barton as he moved out onto the boardwalk. “How can you even think of infringing on Mexico’s sovereignty, Long, while these delicate negotiations are going on?”
“I’m thinking about a young woman who’s probably mighty scared right now,” Longarm snapped. He was in no mood to put up with Barton’s pettiness.
“Please, Senor Long,” Don Alfredo said slowly, almost painfully. “Senor Barton and Capitan Hernandez are correct. It would not be fitting for you to cross the border in pursuit of those outlaws, no matter who they may have as their prisoner. I know this as a diplomat and a representative of El Presidente.” He cast a hard look at Barton and Hernandez, then gripped Longarm’s arm again. “But as a father, I implore you, Senor Long ... rescue my daughter. Bring her back safely to me.”
“Out of the question,” Barton said angrily, but the heavy clomp of booted footsteps made him fall silent.
Coffin strode up to the little group standing in front of the hotel.
