"Well, there's the start of your posse," Longarm said to the sheriff. "Now if you and Ralston can round up a few more~"
Tucker was still too stunned to reply. Ralston answered, "Oh, we can find enough men, Custis. Guns, that's another thing."
"What d'you mean?"
"Well, you see, to cut down on gunplay and general meanness, we grabbed all the guns from the people a few years ago."
"And left your damn town wide open to any crew of gunmen who might ride by? Well, I've got three rifles and pistols and shells for 'em on that horse outside. You can start with those. And I'd guess the sheriff can dig up a few more, somewhere."
"I — I guess I can. We saved a few of the best ones," Tucker volunteered. "You go round up some men, Ralston. I better stay and swear in Miles's people, when they come over."
"Sure," Ralston agreed. But he looked to Longarm instead of to the sheriff when he asked, "How many you think we'll need, Custis?"
"How many will Baskin send over?"
"Well," Ralston said, then frowned. "He's got four barkeeps and three cardsharks and two swampies. Of course, the swampies is Mexicans~"
"That won't matter. That's nine. I'd say another dozen."
Ralston asked Tucker, "That sound right to you, Ed?"
"Yes. And get started, damn it! If Custis is right, we ain't got too much time!" When Ralston had left, the sheriff said to Longarm, "You damned near got us all in trouble, Custis. But I got to say, I admired the way you made Miles tucker down to you. Now, listen, you and me have got to work out a deal. I want you to take Spud's place, be my good right arm, so to speak."
"We'll talk after the rurales leave," Longarm told him. "But I don't mind telling you, what I say's going to depend on what happens when they get here."
"Now don't you worry. I'm goin' to put you in charge of the posse. How's that sound?"
"Good enough. When Baskin's men get here, you send 'em to the sandspit north of town."
"Where the ford is?"
"That's the place. I'm going there just as soon as I check up on Flo and Lita."
He went into the jail. Lita and Flo were sitting side by side on the low bunk in the last cell. There was a bruise on Lita's cheek, but otherwise she seemed unharmed. She jumped up and wrapped her arms around Longarm's neck.
"Coos-tees! I think you maybe don' come back! I am worry," she said, kissing him soundly.
"You take a look, you'll see I'm all here." Longarm smiled over Lita's shoulder at Flo, who was looking amused. "How is she?"
Flo replied, "She's fine, except for that place on her cheek. You know, Custis, I've really got to hand it to you. You beat any damned sailor who ever walked a deck."
"You mad at me?" he asked her.
"Oh, hell, no! Matter of fact, I think you're a pretty good picker. Lita saw you first; you might say I just came along accidentally. " She cocked her head thoughtfully and added, "And it's one accident I don't regret. I think we're pretty much alike, you and me. No, I don't mind one bit."
"Good. I was hoping you'd see it that way." Now Longarm grew serious. He took the derringer out of his vest pocket and removed the watch from the chain. "Them rurales ought to be here soon, the way I figure it. I've got to be down at the river to meet 'em. This is about the safest place I know of for the two of you, so you stay right here." He handed the derringer to Flo. "Don't be afraid to use this, if you have to, in case there's trouble." He showed Flo how to use the weapon, kissed her and Lita soundly, and said, "I'll be back to get you after a while."
After he'd mounted Tordo and started for the sandspit, Longarm dropped the insolently calm attitude he'd been careful to maintain with Sheriff Tucker. His jaw was set; a furrow formed between his eyebrows. Somehow, there had to be a way to keep a shooting match from breaking out between Ramos's rurales and the posse that he hoped would be on hand to meet them. Longarm had seen enough of the ponderous mechanism of federal bureaucracy to know what would happen to a deputy U.S. marshal who'd created a serious border clash with a country that was technically friendly.
Old son, he told himself, they say that new federal pen at Leavenworth's a pretty fancy place, but I got no hankering to put in the next twenty years enjoying whatever view I'd get from a cell in it.
Except for a few long-billed herons looking for frogs in the lagoon on the U.S. side of the Rio Grande, the sandspit was deserted when he reined Tordo to a halt at the water's margin. He was getting edgy. The two-hour lead he and Flo had gained when Webster and Hill remained behind was all but gone. He began worrying about the Ranger and the captain now, and out of habit reached into his pocket for a cheroot before remembering he'd been without for a week. It was, he thought, the only time he'd ever succeeded in quitting the damn weeds.
Even the arrival of Ralston with the score of volunteers he'd assembled didn't ease Longarm's worry about Webster and Hill. He carried it with him while he helped the deputy space out the men in the semblance of a skirmish line, putting those with the best rifles in the center, those with shotguns nearest the river, those with ancient single-shot Martini and Remington rolling-block rifles at the ends. He'd begun to think about crossing into Mexico himself and trying to backtrack in an effort to turn up Hill and Webster when a shout sounded from the men closest to the channel.
"Here they come! Get ready to give 'em hell, boys!"
Weapons were lifted to shoulders along the line. Longarm kept his eyes on the chamizal, which still hid the men on the horses whose hoofbeats were growing louder above the soft murmur of the Rio Grande's opalescent water. The riders burst through the brush and started down the bank. Longarm let go the deep breath he hadn't been aware he was holding.
"Don't anybody shoot!" he called. "These fellows are on our side!"
Webster and Hill urged their stumbling horses across the shallow ford. They saw Longarm and managed to persuade their mounts to make the few final yards necessary to reach him.
Hill surveyed the ragged line of men and said dryly, "You'd never make drillmaster in my outfit, Marshal. But I will say, I'm damned glad to see you've got a greeting squad."
"How far behind are Ramos and his bunch?" Longarm asked.
"Maybe a mile or two," Webster answered. "We been trying every trick in the book to shake 'em, but they've stuck like patent glue."
"How many men's he got?" Longarm tried to keep his voice as casual as Hill's had been, but his anxiety seeped through.
"He's down to about sixteen, now," Hill said. "That's four less than he had when he caught up with us."
"Flo and me took out three that he'd sent to cut off the river crossing," Longarm told him. "I'd say Ramos ain't too happy right about now."
A bit impatiently, the cavalryman asked, "Well, what's your battle plan? Do we shoot on sight, or wait for the rurales to get in the first volley?"
"I been telling these boys not to touch a trigger till I say so," Longarm replied. "I guess that's about the best I've come up with. What's your idea, John?"
"Improve our position," Hill said promptly. "We're too exposed. The rurales can take cover in the chamizal and cut us to pieces. At least we can dig some rifle pits."
Hoofbeats sounding from across the river wrote an end to the captain's suggestion. Longarm said, "Sounds like we're too late for that. I guess it comes down now to who shoots first. What I'm hoping is that Ramos won't have any more of a mind to set off a war than we will."
"Calculated risk," Hill observed. "Worth taking, most times."
"I'd appreciate it if you and Nate would sorta separate and each one of you take charge of part of the men. I got the sheriff's only deputy holding down the middle, but you two've got more savvy about things like this than he has."
Hill and Webster started moving before he'd quite finished speaking. Longarm threw a leg over Tordo and settled into the saddle. The attention of the defenders was concentrated on the chamizal. The hoofbeats from the Mexican side of the river were loud and distinct now. Longarm nudged the dapple's sides and guided him into the ford. In midstream, he pulled up and waited.