Scott was on his feet in an instant, the long-barreled, black-handled Colts snaking out of their holsters as he pivoted toward the closest guard. He lashed out with the right-hand gun, taking the startled outlaw by surprise. The barrel raked across the man’s forehead, opening a bloody gash and stunning him.
At the same time, Coffin lunged from his chair and tackled Deke, who was also trying to get up. They went down with a crash.
That left the guard by the patio doors for Longarm. The outlaw was further away from Longarm than either of the other two men had been from Scott and Coffin. He had time to draw his gun before Longarm could reach him. Longarm grabbed desperately for the weapon as he threw himself forward. He got hold of the barrel with one hand and wrenched it aside, at the same time jamming his other hand between the hammer and the cylinder so that the gun couldn’t fire. The hammer pinched the web of his hand painfully. Longarm let go of the gun barrel with his other hand and brought his fist across in a slashing blow that caught the outlaw in the jaw.
While Longarm was struggling with the last guard, Scott pivoted smoothly away from the unconscious outlaw on the floor and turned to face Sonia and Barton. The hammers of both guns were eared back. “If either of you let out a peep,” he told them grimly, “I won’t have any reason not to kill you both.” His gray eyes were like chips of ice in the light of the chandelier hanging from the ceiling over the big table. “Take that gun out of the holster under your coat, Barton, put it on the table, and slide it down here.”
Barton’s face was set in lines of fury, but he complied with Scott’s orders while Sonia looked stunned by the unexpected developments. Some thudding and bumping came from underneath the table, where Coffin and Deke had rolled in their struggle. Coffin suddenly appeared, raising himself up and lifting his right fist while he used his left hand to pin Deke down. The big fist fell, rose, fell again. A gurgling sound came from under the table. Coffin pushed himself to his feet. “Reckon that’ll hold that fella for a while,” he said in satisfaction.
Longarm, meanwhile, had yanked the pistol away from the last guard. He slammed the gun against the man’s temple and heard the brittle crack of bone. The outlaw’s knees folded up, and he collapsed on the floor with rivulets of blood leaking from his nose and ears. He was either dead or soon would be. Longarm turned back toward the table and lifted the gun he had taken from the guard.
Coffin was on the far side of the table, still breathing a little hard from his fight with Deke. Scott stood at the far end, guns trained on Barton and Sonia. Between them were the platters of food, forgotten now in this twist of fate. The young servant was gone, having slipped out in the confusion. Longarm hoped he wouldn’t raise the alarm. Considering the way the boy had looked at Scott with an almost worshipful gaze, Longarm thought that was a distinct possibility.
“You’re El Aguila?” Barton asked in a choked voice. “The real El Aguila?”
“That’s right,” said Scott. “That’s what folks along the border got in the habit of calling me anyway, and I never disabused ‘em of the notion.” Without taking his eyes off Barton and Sonia, he went on. “I owe an apology to you, Marshal Long, and to you too, Ranger Coffin. I know it was pretty low-down of me to use you like that to get into this stronghold, but I wanted to find out who was muddying up my name.”
“So you damn near got us killed,” Coffin said harshly.
“I wouldn’t have let anything happen to you,” Scott said. “I’ve just been biding my time, waiting for the right moment to free the two of you so that we can get out of here.” His broad shoulders rose and fell in a shrug. “The way things worked out, I didn’t have much of a choice about when to start the ball.”
Longarm wasn’t completely sure if he should be pointing his gun toward Barton and Sonia or Scott. “What do you intend to do now?” he asked.
“You may not believe this, Marshal, but just because I’ve got a reputation as an outlaw, that doesn’t mean I’ll stand by and watch my country being betrayed by a man who’s supposed to be representing its best interests. I think we should get out of here and take these two with us, back to Texas where they can face justice.”
Scott’s deep, resonant voice certainly sounded sincere enough, but Longarm had trusted Scott before, with nearly disastrous results. “What about you? Are you going to turn yourself in too?”
“You probably won’t believe this either, but I haven’t broken any laws, Marshal. At least not in Texas. There’s been plenty of talk, but you won’t find any reward dodgers out on me.”
“The hell you say!” exclaimed Coffin. “I’ve heard about you, mister, heard how you like to horn in on every crooked scheme you come across.”
“But did you ever see a wanted poster on me?” Scott persisted. “I don’t think so.”
They didn’t have time for this argument, Longarm thought. He said, “It looks like we’re going to have to trust you again for the time being, Scott, at least until we get out of here. But I’ll be keeping a close eye on you.”
“Wouldn’t expect anything else from the fella they call Longarm,” Scott said easily.
“I make it my business to keep up with all the lawmen I can. Never know when I’ll run across one.”
“Well, you won’t be running across any more unless we get out of here before those revolutionaries show up,” said Longarm. “It’ll be hard enough just slipping out with all of El Aguila’s gang around.”
Scott winced a little. “Please, Marshal. You’re besmirching my reputation.”
“When we get back to Texas, I’ll smirch you, you lowdown-“ Coffin began.
“Let it wait,” Longarm interrupted. “Coffin, you reckon you can slip out through that patio, get to the stable, and bring back horses for the five of us?”
“Damn right I can,” the Ranger replied. He bent over and jerked a pistol from the holster strapped around the waist of the still-unconscious Deke. “Feels good not to be naked no more.”
“Don’t use that gun unless you have to,” Scott warned. “Shots will bring everybody in the valley down on top of us.”
“I know that, blast it,” Coffin muttered. Moving with surprising stealth for a man of his size, he cat-footed out the door and vanished into the shadows of the patio.
“Now what?” Barton asked, his face impassive.
“Now we wait,” Longarm said as he pointed his gun at the diplomat, “and hope nobody comes along and makes
