Guiterrez helped her down from the horse, then swung a furious glare toward Longarm and Coffin. Longarm expected him to say something about the way her hands were tied, but instead he said coldly, “I am surprised you two would come back here, Senor Long. I suppose I should be grateful for the return of my daughter, but I cannot bring myself to feel gratitude to men such as you and Senor Coffin.”
Longarm rested his hands on the saddlehorn and leaned forward, easing weary muscles. “Sounds to me like you don’t know the whole story, Don Alfredo,” he began.
Spooner had his hand inside his coat. He brought it out holding a gun and pointed the weapon at Longarm and Coffin. “You men are under arrest,” he said. “Drop your guns.”
“Under arrest for what?” Coffin burst out. “Hell, we brought that gal
back just like we said we would—even though it turned out she didn’t need
savin’ at all. Hell, she was practically runnin’ that bunch of owlhoots,
and-“
“Save your breath,” Don Alfredo cut in. “We know all about it, Senor Coffin. We know how you and Senor Long were in league with El Aguila all along.”
“But that’s crazy!” said Longarm hotly. “We killed a bunch of those outlaws when they raided the town. Would we have done that if we’d been working with them?”
“Perhaps they did not know who their real leaders were at the time.” Don Alfredo fumbled with the bonds around Sonia’s wrists and finally got them untied. He put an arm around her shoulders and turned to lead her into the hotel. “Come along, my dear. You need food and water and much rest after your ordeal.”
Longarm and Coffin gazed bleakly after them. Longarm had expected to have some trouble convincing Don Alfredo of the truth, but obviously the Mexican diplomat had already made up his mind completely. But how could Guiterrez know anything about what had happened below the border?
“I said you’re under arrest,” repeated Spooner. “The charges are kidnapping and treason. Now, are you going to drop your guns or not?”
“Treason!” shouted Coffin. “What in blue blazes makes you think me and Long committed treason?”
Franklin Barton stepped out of the door of the hotel and said, “I told them all about it, Coffin.”
Longarm tensed in the saddle, his heart thudding in shock at the unexpected sight of the American diplomat, as Barton went on. “We know how you and Long conspired with El Aguila to kidnap Senorita Guiterrez and hold her for ransom. Then you did your best to kill me after I delivered the money to you. But as you can see, I’m alive!”
Barton’s face was pale and his features haggard, but he was definitely alive, all right, thought Longarm. The bulge of a bandage was visible under Barton’s shirt and coat. Obviously, that bullet wound hadn’t been fatal after all, only messy. Barton had gotten himself patched up and then somehow reached Del Rio ahead of Longarm and Coffin. The only way that was possible, Longarm knew, was if the renegade diplomat had been able to avoid the worst of the sandstorm and push on through the night.
How Barton had gotten there didn’t really matter. What was important was that he had arrived in Del Rio first and filled the heads of everyone involved with lies about how Longarm and Coffin had been working with the outlaws. And as Longarm frowned, thinking furiously, he couldn’t come up with any way to disprove what Barton was saying.
Lack of proof didn’t bother Coffin. The big Ranger said contemptuously, “I never heard such a load of shit in my life. If you were tellin’ the truth, Barton, then why in Hades would Long and me have come back to Del Rio?”
“Because you thought I was dead,” Barton replied smoothly. “You thought you could spin any cock-and-bull story you wanted to about what happened down there in Mexico, and there wouldn’t be anyone to dispute you.”
Longarm thought he saw a narrow opening. “What about Senorita Guiterrez?” he asked. “Wouldn’t we know that she would tell the so-called truth?”
Barton sighed theatrically. “Poor Sonia. You know, of course, that she has her own reasons for concealing the full truth.”
Don Alfredo stopped short on the threshold of the hotel lobby. His head turned slowly, and he regarded Barton with hostile eyes. “What did you say, Senor Barton?” he asked. “Are you implying that my daughter would lie about what happened to her?”
“I’m afraid so, Don Alfredo,” Barton said solemnly. His attitude conveyed clearly his reluctance to reveal the truth to his Mexican counterpart. It was all an act, of course, Longarm thought, but Barton was good at it. Barton went on. “You see—and I truly hate to tell you this—Sonia wasn’t really kidnapped. She was part of the scheme with El Aguila too.”
Sonia’s eyes widened in amazement. “Dios mio!” she exclaimed. “Why do you say such things? Have you gone mad?”
“The truth has to come out sooner or later, senorita,” Barton said, still acting reluctant. He turned to Don Alfredo and continued. “You see, your daughter has fallen in with a group of revolutionaries who plan to overthrow President Diaz. The ransom money that I took to the outlaw stronghold went to them, to help fund their revolution.”
That was another bald-faced lie, but Longarm understood now what Barton was trying to do. When the ransom demand had come to Don Alfredo—a demand that Barton might well have written himself and passed off as coming from the outlaws—Barton had volunteered to deliver the money. That had given him an excuse to leave Del Rio. The note he had concocted might have even specified that he was supposed to carry the ransom across the border. Then he had gone directly to the stronghold, where, thanks to Longarm, Coffin, and Walt Scott, things hadn’t gone exactly as planned.
Longarm knew that the ransom money hadn’t gone to the revolutionaries.
Scott’s rain of dynamite had prevented that. So what had happened to it?
Longarm was willing to bet that Barton still had the money and was planning to hang on to it in an attempt to
