Tabor Evans - Longarm on the Border

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.

"Liquor's as good as laudanum for putting a man to sleep," Longarm said. "It just don't work as fast. I'm beginning to get me an idea. See if you can dig a bottle of Maryland rye outa there, Flo. I need something to stir up my brains while I scheme."

Flo rummaged and came up with the bottle Longarm had requested. A corkscrew hung on a nail inside the cabinet door. She used it expertly and passed him the bottle. He lilted it and let the warm, nippy whiskey slide down his throat. Immediately, he wished for a cheroot to follow, but reminded himself he'd better be grateful just for the bottle.

"Don't you offer ladies a drink in the crowd you travel with?" she asked. He extended the bottle to her and she took a swallow. Her eyes watered. "God! That's a man's drink!" she exclaimed. "I guess I'd better stick to something mild, brandy or Scotch."

"We better leave it alone for now," he cautioned. "I got the start of a scheme worked out. I'm going to have to ask you to help me some, if you don't object."

"Object! Listen, you tell me what you want me to do. There's not much I'd balk at, if it'll get me out of this place and on a train back to Broadway again."

"Well, what you'd do ain't much. Pay attention now, and I'll tell you what I got figured."

Longarm outlined his plan. Flo listened attentively, nodding now and then, as he explained what she'd have to do. When he'd finished she chuckled throatily.