Longarm shook his head. “I don’t know. We may never know. But we know we wanted Sonia taken back to Texas so that his name would be cleared of those raids. That’s what I intend to do.”
“Me too,” said Coffin with a nod. “You know, he was a mighty tricky fella, but maybe Scott wasn’t so bad after all. For an owlhoot, that is.”
“Maybe not,” agreed Longarm.
Side by side, he and Coffin rode on into the night, heading north for Texas.
The sun blistered down on the three riders as the horses moved wearily across the flat, semi-arid landscape. It was noon of the next day, and since escaping from the outlaw stronghold the night before, Longarm and Coffin had paused for only a few minutes at a time to give the horses some rest. Longarm estimated that they had covered a little over half the distance back to the border. With any luck, they would reach Del Rio sometime that night or early the next morning.
But only if they didn’t have to make a longer stop, and Longarm didn’t know if that was humanly possible. He and Coffin were worn down, riding on the edge of exhaustion, and Sonia swayed groggily in the saddle where Longarm had tied her. She was only half conscious, suffering from the effects of heat, hunger, thirst, and the long ride.
There hadn’t been time to gather any provisions for the trip before fleeing from the hacienda, so the fugitives had been forced to make do with the game they could catch. Longarm didn’t want to waste bullets, just in case they ran into more trouble, but luckily during one of their stops, Coffin had been able to bring down a jackrabbit by pegging a rock at it. They had built a small fire, roasted the rabbit lightly, and gnawed the tough, stringy meat. Sonia had even stopped complaining and threatening for a few minutes as they ate.
A few water holes along the way had provided them with a drink, but they had no canteens to fill. It would have been a relief to be able to carry water, instead of having to hope that they would run across another spring or tank, but that wasn’t the case.
Still, despite the hardships, they pushed on. Longarm figured they could suffer through for another twelve to eighteen hours without much trouble. He had gone longer than that without food and water, and he figured Coffin had too.
Sonia was another matter. The pampered existence she had led had not prepared her for a grueling trek such as this.
But she had made her own choice when she’d thrown in with Barton and they had hatched their treacherous, vicious plot. She would just have to make do as best she could until they got back to Texas.
Longarm and Coffin both checked their back trail frequently, and it was Longarm who said not long after the sun was at its zenith, “Somebody’s following us.”
Coffin twisted in the saddle, looked back at the plume of dust rising in the distance to the south, and cursed. “Looks like a good-sized bunch, judgin’ from the dust they’re kickin’ up.”
Longarm nodded in agreement. “They’re pushing their horses fast too.
They must’ve brought extra mounts.”
“Well, so did we. The gal’s the lightest, so we ought to put her on your bay. Then you can take her hoss, and I’ll take the one we were goin’ to put Barton on.”
At the mention of Barton, Sonia perked up a little and spat some more curses at them. Longarm thought Coffin’s suggestion made sense, so he reined in and dismounted, going over to Sonia’s horse to untie her from the saddle. He ignored the vitriol she poured out on him. Leaving her hands tied in front of her, Longarm hauled her down from the horse and carried her over to the bay. Hoisting her into the saddle took a lot of the strength he had left. While Longarm was doing that, Coffin switched from the buckskin to the fourth horse, a long-legged chestnut with white stockings and a white blaze on its nose. Within moments, they were all ready to ride. Longarm held the reins of Sonia’s mount while Coffin led the buckskin.
They prodded the horses into a ground-eating lope. Longarm glanced back over his shoulder fairly often, gauging the progress of the pursuers. They were still closing the gap, but not as quickly now.
“Look for a stretch of rock or hardpan,” Longarm called to Coffin.
“We’ve got to throw ‘em off our trail.”
The big Ranger nodded his understanding. It was still a long run to the border, and anything they could do to make it more difficult for the outlaws was worth it.
Instinct told Longarm to urge his horse into a gallop, but he suppressed that impulse. The strength and stamina for a last dash might be needed later, and it would be foolish to waste those resources now. Instead he and Coffin held their mounts at the easy gait and used their eyes to search for a stretch of ground that wouldn’t take tracks.
They found one about half an hour later, where some small hills that were really little more than hummocks rose from the Mexican plains. The sandy soil thinned and soon became solid, grayish-white rock. The area was several hundred yards wide and ran as far as the lawmen could see in both directions. Longarm felt a surge of relief at the sight of the rocky ground. This was just what they needed.
He and Coffin slowed the horses to a walk. Though tracks would not show up on the rock, the shoes on the hooves of their mounts could chip the stone and leave small shiny places that the eyes of an experienced tracker might spot. The delay chafed on both men, but it was better to proceed slowly and leave fewer signs of their passing.
When they were in the center of the rocky area, they turned to the west, angling toward the far side now. Again, this cost them time, and Longarm glanced anxiously at the dust cloud marking the position of the outlaws. It was closer now. He waved Coffin toward the far side of the rock.
“We’ll split up now, so they won’t know which set of tracks to follow,” said Longarm. “See those double hills in the distance?” He pointed to the north.
“The ones that look like a pair of tits?” asked Coffin.
Longarm grinned tiredly. “Those are the ones. We’ll meet there at dusk. If we haven’t shown up by a quarter hour after sunset, go on without us. We’ll do likewise.”
