"My name's Flo Firestone. Oh, not really, that's my stage name, but I'm more used to it than my real one. I know who you are, and am I ever glad to see you!"
Longarm shook his head, unbelieving. "You talk like you're an American."
"You're damned right, I am. And it's a real treat to see you standing there with a gun at that bastard's head!"
"Well, whoever you are, we'll save the palaver until later. I guess you're on my side, from what you just said, so why don't you find me some rope or something to tie this hombre up with. Then we'll try to get things straightened out."
She got out of bed, giving Longarm a glimpse of smooth pink thighs as her long legs kicked the covers aside. She stood up; he was surprised that she was almost as tall as he was. She was a blonde, full-lipped, round-chinned, and her sheer nightdress revealed that she was a true blonde. The almost transparent material of the nightgown hid nothing of her figure, which was statuesque, though the erect pink-tipped nipples of her generous breasts pushed the sheer fabric out so that it fell straight to her bare feet. When she moved, the gown clung to her, emphasizing her smoothly rounded stomach, wide hips, and tapered legs. In spite of her size, she was large rather than fat. Longarm had to work at keeping his mind on Ramos while the woman scurried around looking for rope or cord. Finally, she settled for ripping a bedsheet into wide strips.
She handed these to Longarm. "These'll have to do, I guess. If you twist them when you tie him up, they'll hold tight enough."
"Give me a hand," he said. "Put a gag on him first, in case he gets a fool idea about yelling for help." Ramos glowered while she obeyed, pulling the twisted cloth tight through his mouth. Longarm told the rurale, "Now then. You just march over and sit down in that chair. Don't forget, this gun's cocked, and I got a nervous trigger finger."
Ramos could see the derringer at fall-cock in the mirror of an ornate dressing table that stood opposite the bed. He obeyed without hesitation. Longarm sat him down in the armless boudoir chair and after the woman had bound his hands, helped her to tie the rurale's feet to the chair legs. He checked the lashing that held Ramos's wrists around the back of the chair, and found them as tight and secure as they'd have been if he'd put them on the man himself. Longarm tucked the little gun back into his vest pocket.
"Now," he said to the woman, "you wanta tell me how you got here, and why?"
"I got here because this two-bit cholo— I don't know what that means, except that it's some kind of Mexican insult — decided he wanted to keep me around after his men wiped out the bandits that had kidnapped me off the train that I was taking back to the states."
"How long ago'd this happen?"
"Let's see. I've just about lost track of time, but I guess it was about three weeks ago that Charley" — she pointed to Ramos — "I call him Charley because it makes him mad — ambushed the train robbers. And I don't know where it was, because I rode a day and part of a night with the bandits, and two days with Charley and his crew."
"And how'd you know who I am?" Longarm asked suspiciously.
"Marshal, when you're shut up all the time in a bedroom you don't much care for, you listen at the keyhole and you work out the things you can't see happening. I just about gave up when Charley told them to toss you in the pokey, and you'll never know how glad I am you got out. How did you, anyhow?"
"That'll wait," Longarm replied curtly. He wanted to satisfy himself that the woman was what she seemed to be. "This train you were on, how'd you happen to be riding it?"
"I was trying to get back home. Look, Marshal, I'm an actress. Well, I guess burlesque's acting, in a way. Our troupe got stranded, but we scraped up enough money between us to take the train from Monterrey to Laredo, wherever that is. We thought once we got back across the border, we could work our way back to New York. You know, hitting the tank towns, performing wherever we could pick up a booking."
"What happened to the rest of the people in your outfit?"
"God might know, but I don't. You ever been on a train that ran off the rails because a bunch of robbers dynamited the track? It was a mess — shooting, dark, people all mixed up. I don't know what happened, because I had a sack over my head. I could tell daylight from dark, but that was about all. I could tell you a lot more, but don't you think we'd better save it until later?"
"You're right, Flo. You did say Flo, didn't you?" She nodded, and Longarm went on, "Sounds like a real interesting story, but there's two more fellows waiting for me to get 'em out of jail, and I got to work up some kind of scheme to do it."
"You're going to include me in the getaway party, I hope?" Flo asked.
"Sure, now that I know about you, which I didn't before. But there's something like thirty of Ramos's rurales between us and a clean break. There ain't a way I can see to bull through that many. They'd cut us down fast, we'd be so outgunned if we tried to just bust through."
"If you're looking for guns, there's a whole closetful in a little room off the one Charley uses for his office."
"Ammunition for 'em, too?"
"I wouldn't know what bullets fit which gun. Let's go look. I'll show you where they are."
"Just a minute. Is there anybody in this place except you and him?"
"No. Charley didn't want any interruptions, if you know what I mean. Some woman comes in to cook and clean up, but she won't be here until time to fix breakfast."
"All right. Let's have a look-see. And I'll bolt that front door, so in case anybody does come around they won't just walk in on us."
Flo seemed unconscious of her body gleaming through the filmy nightdress as she led Longarm through the sala to a little storeroom lined with cabinets.
She pointed out the one that held the weapons. Longarm opened it and found it crammed with rifles, shotguns, pistols, and boxes and bags of ammunition. There was enough firepower in the cabinet to fit out an army, he thought, and for a moment wished he had one behind him.
Apparently, Ramos kept for himself the best weapons captured by his men from the bandit gangs that were supposed to be the chief targets of the rurales. The guns were all in good condition, most of them relatively late models. Among them, Longarm found his own Colt and Winchester; he checked to be sure they were loaded before putting the Winchester aside and strapping on the Colt. For the first time since it had been taken from him, he felt fully dressed.
"These'll fix us up real good," he told Flo. Then the relief drained out of his voice as he added, "But they won't be a damn bit of use until I pass 'em on to Nate and John."
"They're your friends who're in jail?"
"An army captain and a Texas Ranger. They was both here before Ramos brought you back, I expect."
"I knew there were prisoners out there, I didn't know who."
Longarm was frowning, concentrating on completing their escape. He thought aloud, "About all I can see to do is wait until all those rurales turn in and get sound asleep. Flo, you know whether they set guards out around this place at night?"
"No. Charley's kept me busy at night, or tried to." She sighed. "Too bad there's not some kind of medicine, like laudanum, in one of these cabinets, something that'd put the men out there to sleep real fast."
"You can say that again," Longarm told her.
"I said~"
"Never mind, I was just talking. Listen, Flo, is Ramos a big drinker?"
"He does pretty well. I guess he grabs liquor whenever he gets a chance to; that cabinet right there's loaded with it. French brandy, Scotch whisky, bourbon, rye, and a lot of Mexican stuff like habanero and tequila. There's enough in there to stock Rector's bar. Look." She crossed the room and opened another of the cabinets, showing shelves crammed with bottles.