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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.

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.“I know enough,” Guiterrez snapped.  “Major!”

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?”