unwrapped his arm from Sonia and brushed away some of the dirt before pushing himself to his feet.
“Looks like you two spent a mighty cozy night,” said Coffin. He still had both horses and was holding their reins as he stood there.
“At least we got to where we were supposed to be,” Longarm replied.
“Where were you?”
Coffin jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “Back on the other side of the hills. I didn’t have no notion you two were around here. Figured I’d wait out the storm and hook up with you again later.” He grinned. “Course, from the looks of things, you might be just as glad I didn’t find you.”
Longarm shook his head. “We were just waiting out the storm, like you.” He reached down and took hold of Sonia’s arm, then helped her to her feet.
“I need some water,” she croaked.
Longarm’s throat was pretty dry and raspy too. “We all do,” he said. “But I don’t know if there’s any around here. We’ll just have to push on and keep looking.”
Sonia groaned, but she didn’t complain any more as Longarm found their horses, which had also come through the storm all right. He used a rag to clean some of the dust from the horses’ nostrils, then led them around the hill.
“Where do you reckon El Aguila’s bunch is?” asked Coffin as the three of them mounted up and headed north again.
“You mean Barton’s bunch,” Longarm said. “Walt Scott turned out to be the real El Aguila, remember?”
“Oh, yeah.” Coffin shook his head. “I hope that son of a buck made it through the avalanche.”
“We’ll probably never know,” said Longarm. “But I do too.” He rubbed his jaw for a moment, then went on. “I reckon those outlaws could be most anywhere. I’m sure they had to stop too when the storm hit, but there’s no telling where they were by then.”
“After all that wind, our tracks’ll be long gone.” Coffin sounded pleased at that prospect. “We’ve got a good chance now, Long.”
Longarm nodded. He felt good about the odds too. Sometimes, even something as brutal as that sandstorm had been could have some advantages, and he didn’t intend to waste this opportunity.
They pushed on, the two lawmen and their reluctant prisoner, bound for Del Rio.
“The Rio Grande!” Coffin exclaimed as they sighted the winding, slow-moving stream late that afternoon. “Prettiest river in the world—at least when you’re headin’ north, it is.”
At the moment, Longarm could almost agree with that sentiment. On the far side of the river, visible in the distance, lay the settlement that was their destination.
They hadn’t seen any more signs of pursuit during the long day, and by now they were willing to accept the possibility that the outlaws had completely lost their trail. In less than half an hour, they would reach Del Rio, and they would be safe again at last.
That thought made Longarm glance cautiously behind him. Over-confidence was something he always tried to guard against. He wasn’t going to believe this was really over until they were back in Del Rio and the truth had been exposed.
He frowned as he considered what Don Alfredo’s reaction would be to the news that his daughter had been plotting against him all along. Don Alfredo had always turned a blind eye to Sonia’s failings. Would he again in this case? What proof did they have, Longarm asked himself, that Sonia and Barton had really been in league with the outlaws?
It might be difficult, but he and Coffin would just have to convince Don Alfredo of the truth. It would have been easier if they could have brought Barton back with them, but things hadn’t worked out that way. Longarm wondered whether Barton had tried to find some excuse for his absence from Del Rio, or if the diplomat had simply vanished into the night?
“Almost there,” said Coffin as the hooves of their horses splashed into the water of the Rio Grande. “Hope I ain’t jinxed us by talkin’ about it.”
Longarm shared that hope, even though he wasn’t really a superstitious man. He kept a tight grip on the reins of Sonia’s horse, not wanting her to have any chance to escape when they were this close.
They crossed the river without any trouble. No outlaws showed up at the last second to throw lead at them or block their path. As they rode up the sandy bank into Texas, Longarm breathed a sigh of relief and sleeved sweat from his forehead. A few more minutes and they would be in Del Rio.
A few more minutes in which everything could go wrong, he thought grimly.
But nothing did, and as curious and startled shouts went up from the people on the boardwalks of the town, the three of them soon rode down Del Rio’s main street toward the hotel and the sheriff’s office.
Word of their coming must have passed quickly from building to building, because by the time the three riders reached the hotel, a sizable group was waiting for them. Don Alfredo was in the forefront, an expression of anxiety etched on his face. He brightened a little when he saw that Sonia appeared to be all right. His assistants were with him, as was Capitan Hernandez of the federales. Jeffery Spooner, the military officer assigned to the American delegation, was also waiting on the front porch of the hotel, along with Barton’s assistants, Quine and Markson. All of them looked nervous and troubled, instead of relieved, and that puzzled Longarm. He was glad, though, to see Sheriff Sanderson hurrying along the boardwalk toward the hotel, his left arm in a sling, but otherwise apparently recovered from the injuries he’d suffered when his office was blown up.
“Sonia!” cried Don Alfredo as he stepped down from the porch and ran forward to meet them.
“Papa!” Tears ran from Sonia’s eyes as Longarm brought her horse to a stop and Don Alfredo reached up for her. “Oh, Papa, it was so awful!”
She would put on a good show, thought Longarm. He and Coffin would just have to hope that the truth could counter the lies she was sure to tell.
