It was the kid, of course, who pointed out, "He's right about there being three of us, and I only see two barrels for that whore pistol!"
The sly talker of the bunch sighed and muttered, "Feel free to be the first one he shoots, Juanito! I assure you I'll get him after he gets you and Robles."
Longarm growled, "I told you what I wanted you to do. I am not going to tell you again. So do it or die, right now!"
None of them wanted to die. So once he'd disarmed them with his derringer, Longarm switched to his six-gun and reached for the handcuffs riding the back of his gun rig with his left hand, telling them in the English he was more comfortable with, "First things first, we'd best make sure nobody's led into more temptation."
He tossed the unlocked cuffs to the kid, who caught them without thinking as Longarm commanded, "I want you to snap one of those steel rings around the right hand of Robles there. What are you waiting for, a boot in the ass?"
The kid did as he was told. Once he had one of his elders cuffed, Longarm herded all three of them to a rear wheel of the big freight wagon and explained what came next. The still-uncuffed leader, whose name was something like Lamas, protested, "This is most cruel! Why not inside the wagon, or at least on the other side, out of the wind?"
Longarm smiled mirthlessly and replied, "What are you crying about? Has anyone offered to corn-hole you, or even steal your shirt? Both you bigger boys hunker down by that wheel, face to face on opposite sides of the spokes. Once Juanito cuffs your right wrists together, with the links through the spokes, even dumb bastards like you ought to see the reason in my madness."
They did, bitching like hell, well before the kid had them cuffed together, squatting on either side of the wheel in the wet wind-whipped grass. Once Longarm saw he'd secured them, he turned to the kid and pistol-whipped the mean little shit to the ground a few paces off. He kicked the downed punk in the ribs, saying, "You can get back up now. I won't smack you no more unless you offer me a whisper of your smart-ass sass!"
As Juanito got back to his feet, both hands to his busted lips, Longarm asked if he had anything sassy to say.
When Juanito sobbed he'd do anything Longarm wanted, including a few offers Longarm hadn't been considering, the tall deputy laughed and said, "I like gals better. Right now I want to go to Escondrijo, and seeing you boys know this swampy range so much better, here's what we're going to do."
Waving the dripping muzzle of his six-gun at the two wet rats hunkered in windswept misery at the rear of the heavy wagon, he explained. "You're going to guide me through this stormy night to where I want to go, Juanito. I'll kill you at the first suspicion we ain't headed the right way, and Lord only knows what'll ever happen to these pals of yours. Must get hot and thirsty as hell around here when the sun comes back in the Texas sky after a storm."
Hunkered by the wheel, Lamas bitched, "You can't do that to fellow cristianos, senor! Nobody but a Comanche would kill anyone as slow as that!"
Longarm said, "I ain't finished. So all three of you listen tight. When and if Juanito gets me safe and sound to Escondrijo, I mean to turn him loose with the key to them cuffs. If he knows the way down to Escondrijo he ought to know the way back. You'll wind up with a free set of handcuffs instead of my shirt and rosy red rectum. So I'd best take your guns and pocket money in exchange."
They protested it wasn't fair to rob them at gunpoint the way they'd been planning to rob him. He just laughed. When young Juanito asked if he might have his own pony to ride both ways, Longarm thought that was sort of funny too. He said, "It ain't too far for you to make on foot in one day, if you really put your mind to it."
When Juanito insisted it would take him at least eighteen hours, Longarm just shrugged and said, "We'd best be on our way then. For I suspicion these pals of yours will be hot and thirsty as all get out by the time you hoof it all the way back with the key to them cuffs."
CHAPTER 7
The storm let up before sunrise. It still took longer to make it to Escondrijo by way of Juanito's longer route through higher range to the west. By then they'd spent enough time together, with nothing better to do than talk, for Longarm to have gotten a handle on what Juanito and the others had been doing out in all that rain.
They were gun runners, waiting for a load of British Enfield rifles they meant to smuggle across the border up above Laredo. Longarm had a notion he knew the unguarded stretch they'd had in mind. He knew a Mexican rebel depending on the federate troops he fought for ammunition favored the same brand of rifles most federales still used. Mexico had gotten a swell buy on Enfields, considering what they cost folks who meant to pay for them sooner or later. Old Sam Colt had known enough to demand cash on the barrel head for the horse pistols los rurales got to fire at pigs and chickens on their way through many a sullen village.
Finally Longarm spied church spires and chimney smoke against the sunrise to their east. He turned to Juanito and said, "That Scotch poet was right about the best-laid plans of mice and men, you mean little shit. I was fixing to wire the Rangers and have 'em waiting for you by the time you hiked all the way back."
"That is not the deal we made!" protested the unhappy youth.
But Longarm replied, "Yes, it was, as soon as you study the small print. I'm a lawman and the three of you confessed right out, albeit in Spanish, you were fixing to waylay me and worse. But I ain't finished. I may be a lawman, but I suffer from this rough sense of justice, and there ain't no justice down Mexico way with that piss-faced Porfirio Diaz calling his fool self El Presidente, as if he'd been elected, the lying son of a bitch."
Juanito turned on the seat they were sharing. "You know this much about my poor country and her poor people, senor?"
Longarm shrugged and replied, "Not as well as I might if I'd been born that unfortunate, I'll allow, but well enough to suspicion most any government you rebels could come up with would have to be some improvement. So getting back to the deal we made, I reckon I'm going to have to keep it the way you thought I meant it, with no small print. You can save yourself better than an hour afoot if you get off right here and get going whilst it's still cool. Grab one of them canteens in the back, and what the hell, you ought to be able to pack along a few tortillas. A lady I know rolled some in wax paper for me back in Corpus Christi. So here's the damn key, grab what you need and just git! What are you waiting for, a good-bye kiss?"
The kid rummaged in the wagon box for the water and trail grub as he murmured, "I do not understand you at all, senor. I mean, now that I recall our earlier conversation, I see what you mean by small print. Is true you only said you would turn me loose with this key. You never said you would not tell the Rangers we were ladrenes, or where we might be found. Pero what has changed your mind about us?"
To which Longarm could only reply, "I haven't changed my mind about you. I still think you're three mierditas who'd be a disgrace to your families if anyone could say who your fathers might have been. But you ain't the only Mex rebels I've ever met, and some of the ones I like better may need them rifles before El Presidente steps down of his own free will. So adios, shithead, and shoot a federale for me, if you have the balls."
Juanito dropped off the far side with Longarm's generous issue of water and trail grub and the handcuff key in a pocket. Then he said, "I think I know who you must be now. My people speak of a muy gringo but simpatico Yanqui they call El Brazo Largo."
Longarm didn't answer. He just snapped the ribbons to drive on to town, leaving Juanito to stand there, making the sign of the cross as he marveled, "Jesus, Maria y Jose! I threatened to screw El Brazo Largo before I killed him and I am still alive! They are right about him. The man is a goddamn saint!"