“Find that gal, Long?” he asked.
“I’m afraid not,” Longarm told him.
“Well, I’m ready to ride with you when you go after them skunks. We’d best get a move on if we don’t want ‘em to have too big a lead.”
Through clenched teeth, Barton said, “I was just trying to explain why
you can’t-“
Longarm ignored him and said to Guiterrez, “Are you sure this is what you want, Don Alfredo? You’re liable to get in trouble with your own government if Coffin and I cross the border.”
The Mexican diplomat shook his head. “I do not care. All that matters to me is Sonia’s safety.” He hesitated a moment, then added, “Besides, El Presidente owes me more than one favor. I can guarantee there will be no trouble from Diaz about this.”
“That’s good enough for me,” said Longarm. He turned to Coffin.
“Somebody’s got to stay here-“
“Not me,” Coffin cut in. “The doc’s pachin’ up Sanderson right now, and he says the sheriff’s goin’ to be good as new, ‘cept for that busted wing. But it ain’t his gun arm, so I reckon he can watch out over things here in town until reinforcements get here.”
“Reinforcements?” repeated Longarm.
“I’ve done wired Austin already and got a reply back from Major Jones. He rousted out Cap’n McDowell, and ol’ Roarin’ Bill’s sendin’ Hatfield over here with a troop of Rangers. They’ll be here in less’n two days.” Coffin pushed back the sombrero on his rumpled thatch of dark hair. “But I reckon by that time, you and me’ll be a good ways south of the Rio Grande, Long.”
Longarm nodded. “Sounds good to me.” He knew that the other Rangers would be more than capable of keeping the peace in Del Rio and protecting the diplomats while he and Coffin were gone.
“I’ll get my hoss,” Coffin said. “That looks like a pretty good piece of horseflesh at the hitch rack, so you might want to hang on to it.”
Longarm thought the same thing. He was satisfied with the bay. He wanted to get his own saddle, his Winchester, and some supplies before he and Coffin set out into Mexico, though.
He got busy with those preparations while Franklin Barton and Capitan Hernandez followed him around, still complaining. The young American army officer, Jeffery Spooner, joined in and added his own voice to the chorus telling Longarm he couldn’t go across the border. Finally, Don Alfredo was forced to say coldly, “If you want these negotiations to continue, Senor Barton, you will allow Senor Long to go about his business without bothering him. And as for you, Capitan ...” Guiterrez launched into a spate of harsh, rapid Spanish, and the tongue-lashing caused Hernandez to jerk his head up and down in a curt, reluctant nod. Barton just shook his head and went off toward his suite, muttering under his breath.
Less than fifteen minutes had passed by the time Longarm and Coffin were mounted up in front of the hotel, ready to ride. Haggard, his face still drawn from shock and worry, Don Alfredo shook hands with both of them.
“Vaya con Dios,” he said. “Bring my daughter back to me, my friends.”
“You got our word on that,” Coffin swore. Longarm just nodded and didn’t say anything.
He hated to make promises he wasn’t sure he could keep.
The moon was high in the sky, a great Cyclopean eye gazing down on the Rio Grande as the two riders crossed the border river a little later. Siie by side, they moved up ooto the southern bank and started across the flat, semi- arid plain. Within a matter of moments, they were out of sight of the river.
That was why neither Longarm nor Lazarus Coffin saw the man who crossed the river behind them a few minutes later. He was a tall figure in the moonlight, wearing a broad-brimmed black hat and riding a black stallion. As the horse’s hooves splashed quietly in the waters of the Rio Grande, the man leaned forward slightly in the saddle, patted the magnificent animal on the shoulder, and said, “Well, here we go again, Phantom. Reckon one of these days, our luck’s going to run out. I just hope it’s not any time soon.”
Chapter 10
Any hopes that Longarm and Coffin had harbored of catching up quickly to El Aguila’s gang had faded by morning. The rising of the sun found them many miles deep into Mexico. Lack of sleep had made both men bone weary, and when Longarm suggested they call a short halt, Coffin made no objection.
“Leastways they ain’t tryin’ to hide their trail,” said Coffin as he lowered his canteen from his mouth. He gestured at the tracks they were following, which were plainly visible in the reddish glare of the rising sun.
“I guess they figure they’re not in much danger over here on this side of the border,” Longarm replied. He pulled the cork from his own canteen, lifted it to his mouth, and took a short sip of the tepid liquid inside. While this part of the country wasn’t exactly a desert, water holes weren’t very common either. A man who wasted water around here might pay a very high price for such foolishness.
Horses had to drink too, so Longarm and Coffin dismounted and used their hats to water their mounts. Both Longarm’s bay and Coffin’s steel-dust gelding stuck their muzzles in the head-gear and appreciatively sucked up the liquid.
“El Aguila and his men probably aren’t very afraid of the rurales,” Longarm went on, picking up the thread of their earlier comments, “and they know you and me ain’t supposed to be over here chasing after them.”
Coffin snorted in contempt. “I wouldn’t be scared of rurales neither.
That bunch is the sorriest excuse for lawmen-“
“They’re not all bad,” Longarm pointed out. “It’s just that a lot of their officers are corrupt, and they’re spread way too thin. True, most of ‘em don’t really give a damn, but some of them try to do their job.”
Coffin looked like he would just as soon believe that a fella could flap his arms and fly to the moon. He took up
