recoup his losses as much as possible under the circumstances. But his admission that Sonia had been involved with the revolutionary group—which was true as far as it went—was a bold step no doubt calculated to cover Barton’s trail that much more. Barton was a cunning gent. He had mixed lies, truths, and half-truths to make himself look like a hero and damn everyone else involved.
He might just get away with it too. Anything to the contrary that Longarm, Coffin, or Sonia might say would be discounted as attempts to protect themselves by lying.
Those thoughts flashed through Longarm’s head as Sonia gaped in anger and astonishment at Barton. The renegade diplomat shook his head solemnly at her, as if in pity, and turned away. His eyes met Longarm’s for an instant, and the marshal saw a flicker of triumph glittering there.
“Come, Sonia,” Don Alfredo said coldly to his daughter as he tugged her into the lobby of the hotel. “We have much to talk about, you and I. Some things can be forgiven, but others ...”
“But, Papa-“ Sonia protested. Don Alfredo tugged on her arm, silencing her.
A few feet away on the boardwalk, Major Spooner had drawn back the hammer of his revolver, and his finger was taut on the trigger. “I won’t tell you again to drop your weapons and surrender,” he said to Longarm and Coffin.
“Well, then, soldier boy,” grated Coffin, “I reckon you’d better go ahead and shoot me, ‘cause a Ranger don’t surrender.”
Spooner looked at Longarm, who shook his head slowly. Billy Vail might give him hell for it later on—if there was a later on—but Longarm just wasn’t in a surrendering mood either.
Suddenly, there was a flash of motion from the door of the hotel.
Sonia leaped toward Major Spooner, her father lunging futilely after her. She reached out and plucked the gun from the hand of the young officer, whom she had taken completely by surprise. Longarm yelled, “No!” as Sonia spun toward Barton, who was as startled as Spooner had been.
“Liar!” shouted Sonia, the bitter accusation blending in with the sound of the shot as she jerked the trigger.
Barton’s eyes widened in shock, but that was all he had time for before the bullet smacked into the side of his head, bored through his brain, and exploded out the other side of his skull in a grisly shower of blood, gray matter, and splintered bone. He swayed for a second, already dead on his feet, before he pitched to the side and thudded onto the planks of the boardwalk. Glowering at his body, Sonia lowered the still-smoking gun.
“S-Sonia ...” her father said tentatively, reaching out to her. Other than that, a shocked silence ruled the street.
Sonia let the gun slip from her hand and fall to the boardwalk. “He was a thief,” she said in a voice that was half moan. “He must have wanted to steal the money all along. He never believed in the cause!”
“Then what he said ... what he said about you ... it was true?” Don Alfredo’s voice was as bleak as the grave, and so was the expression on his face. Sonia just looked at him in stony silence.
Sheriff Sanderson stepped forward and knelt beside Barton’s body. With his uninjured arm, he searched the dead man’s clothes and brought out a paper-wrapped packet from an inside pocket of Barton’s coat. “Reckon he figured to take off with this as soon as he could,” said the sheriff. He tossed the package to Major Spooner, who caught it instinctively. “Open that up and see what’s inside it, young fella.”
With trembling fingers, Spooner tore away the paper and revealed a thick stack of Mexican currency. “It’s ... the ransom money,” he said in amazement. “I saw Don Alfredo hand it to Mr. Barton with my own eyes.”
Don Alfredo nodded in confirmation. “Si. I wired my bank in Mexico City for it and had it brought to me from the bank downriver in Cuidad Acuna.” His voice shook a little. “That is nearly all the money I have in the world.” He looked at Sonia, who stared back defiantly at him. “But it would have been worth it ...”
Another silence fell, but it lasted only a few seconds before Coffin said, “I reckon we ain’t under arrest no more.”
“I reckon not,” Longarm agreed.
They watched as Sheriff Sanderson took hold of Sonia’s arm and led her away toward the jail, which Longarm saw had had some hasty repairs made to it. Don Alfredo watched them go, standing on the boardwalk with his shoulders slumped in an air of utter defeat.
Longarm was relieved that the truth had come out and that justice had caught up with Franklin Barton when it had looked as if the man was going to get away with his treachery.
But he couldn’t be completely happy with the way everything had turned out. No, sir, not by a long shot.
Chapter 18
The strains of guitar music floated through the warm night. Del Rio was quiet and peaceful once more. Maybe with any luck it would stay that way for a while, Longarm thought as he and Lazarus Coffin ambled along the boardwalk in company with Sheriff Sanderson.
“Well, after everything you’ve told me, Lazarus,” mused Sanderson, “I don’t reckon we’ve got to go hunt down El Aguila after all.”
“Nope, he didn’t have anything to do with those raids,” Coffin agreed. “It was just that bunch of owlhoots usin’ his name so they could set up that phony kidnappin’.”
“Truth to tell, I didn’t much plan on goin’ after him anyway,” Sanderson said as he paused and leaned on the railing along the edge of the boardwalk.
A deep voice came from the shadow-cloaked mouth of a nearby alley.
“I’m glad to hear that, Sheriff.”
Longarm and Coffin both turned sharply toward the alley. “Scott!” exclaimed Coffin. “Hellfire, mister, is that you?”
Longarm wasn’t surprised to see the tall figure of Walt Scott move out of the darkness and step up onto the
