name and that she worked at the hacienda. He tried to provoke her by asking what a white woman was doing in such a menial position, but she wouldn’t answer him. She didn’t refuse to answer his questions, she simply evaded them or remained mute. As best as he could, he tried to draw her out about conditions at the hacienda, such as how many men were there, where it was located, how far it was from the border. He had figured in his own mind, judging from the ride he had made, that it was about twenty miles from Laredo. He had asked her if this was true, but she didn’t answer. She merely shook her head.
But one nice thing was coming from their growing acquaintanceship. She was dressing better. Now she was wearing clothes that set off her figure, which was even better than Longarm had originally thought. She was small- boned and tiny at the waist and appeared to have big breasts. It was the kind of figure that Longarm particularly favored. Looking at her, however, was causing feelings to stir that he couldn’t afford. He had to keep his mind on his business.
One day at lunch, she brought him an unusual dish that was made from thin strips of chicken breast mixed in with slices of fresh tomatoes and cucumber and avocado. She had covered it with some kind of dressing that was tangy but creamy at the same time. He had never had anything like it before. He asked her who did the cooking, that he had never eaten such food in Mexico.
She shrugged. “I cook for you.”
That explained a lot. He had expected the normal, greasy fare you got in Mexico, but the meals that he had gotten were cooked by someone who knew what cooking was and took pride in it. He said, “So, you’re the cook on top of being the general servant around here?”
She shook her head. She said, “No, I only cook for you and for myself. The men who work here and the other women have their own cook. They don’t like my cooking.”
He sat there at the table, staring up at her. He said, “Sarah, you know what they are doing to me is wrong. You know that the man who calls himself Brown is not going to get away with this.”
“There’s nothing I can do about it.”
He said, “You could help me.”
She got a sudden frightened look on her face and began backing toward the door. She said, “No! I’m afraid of this place. I’m afraid of all of them.”
On the afternoon of his fifth day of captivity, he couldn’t stand it any longer. He began banging on the door and kept on banging until, finally, the peephole opened and the young Mexican was visible there. He asked, “What you want, Senor Marshal?”
Longarm, hating to say the words, hating to be so weak, and especially hating to say them to this Mexican face, said, “Brown said I could have a woman. I want a woman. Send me a woman this evening.”
Just as he had feared, the small man laughed, his voice high and shrill. He said, “So, now choo want a woman. Hah! You tell us, you don’t need no woman. You strong. Fuerie. Now you tell us you got to have one. So, the rooster wants to crow.”
Longarm said through gritted teeth, “Listen, Chulo, or whatever the hell your name is, either get the woman or don’t. Just don’t laugh like you’ve lost your false teeth. One way or the other, do something.”
The Mexican’s droll voice came back. He said, “Oh, I think you get a woman, all right. Yes, I think I know exactly the right woman for you. Yes, yes. You going to like her. You like snow? You like ice? We’re going to send you a woman that will remind you very much of snow.”
Longarm said, “Don’t do me any damned favors, Chulo. Forget I mentioned it.”
“You want the woman or not?”
Longarm clenched his teeth until his jaw muscles bulged out. He said, “Yes, damn it, I do. Send her after supper, after it gets dark.”
The Mexican laughed again. He said, “Okay, Mister Big Shot Marshal. You gonna get this woman. We don’t make no guarantees, though. Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha.” The peephole shut.
Longarm suddenly thought of something and banged on the door again. The peephole opened up again. Chulo’s voice said, “What? What you want now?”
Longarm said stubbornly, “I want a bath. Get a bathtub in here and let me get myself cleaned up. I’ve been wearing these same damn clothes for a week, at least I’d like to get my body clean.”
“What choo think we running here? A hotel?”
“Listen, Brown said he’d treat me good. Well, that ought to include a bath. Get a bathtub in here and some hot water.”
The Mexican mumbled for a minute and then said, “Okay, okay. But you better behave yourself. I think maybe you better let us have the razor before we bring that bathtub in there.”
“I’ll slide it under the door,” Longarm said.
It wasn’t much of a bathtub so it wasn’t much of a bath, but at least Longarm was able to get most of the road dirt off himself and reduce the smell so he wouldn’t run a woman off completely. When they took the bathtub out, they gave him his razor back and he shaved himself. He hated putting his dirty clothes back on now that he was clean, so he took a sheet and wrapped himself up with that. It was getting close to dinnertime and he was getting anxious to have the meal over with and have the woman sent to him.
The meal itself was a surprise because Sarah didn’t bring it. Instead, a Mexican woman came in with a kind of spiced-up stew and some rough bread and butter and some sliced onions and tomatoes. It was a far cry from Sarah’s cooking. He tried to ask the Mexican woman what had happened to Sarah, but she either didn’t understand his English or his attempts at Spanish. All she did was shake her head and said, “No say. No say. I don’t know.”
He ate quickly, pushing the food down, but even while he ate, he worried about Sarah. He wondered if they could have overheard him asking her to help him. He wondered if somehow he had gotten her in trouble and this woman was sent in to gather information as to what he was going to attempt. He hoped that was not true. He liked her. He felt sorry for her and there was also the mystery about her that he found intriguing.
Still wearing his wraparound sheet, he went and sat on the side of the bed, poured himself a whiskey, and lit a
