Longarm laughed and cracked the door ajar. He saw the coast was clear, but made good use of his gun rig as he went upstairs to get Valdez out of that wardrobe. He told the Mexican to carry the mirror and stick tight. When Valdez asked how come, Longarm explained, “If we mount that glass back where we found it they’ll never figure out how we did it.”
Valdez said that sounded fair and they were soon downstairs with the others. The middle-aged but macho Valdez put up more of an argument when the Great Costello ordered him into the red satin dress and black lace mantilla another lady had been wearing when she checked in. Longarm told him, “Do it. When three gents check into a hotel dressed sort of casual, with three gals dressed sort of cheap and flashy—no offense, senoritas—nobody expects ‘em to spend more than an hour or so upstairs. The management knows that it won’t be long before more serious lawmen are asking questions about every guest in this hotel, so they ought to be only too happy to see you leaving with El Gato, little darling.”
Valdez said he understood, even if he didn’t like it, and just plain refused to take off his pants. El Gato turned to the gal who’d exchanged her red dress for dowdy black and told her, “You must go with God, now, my little patriot. It is important that they see you leaving alone, with no connection to us as far as they can see, if they notice you at all.”
She asked what would happen to her if they did, and El Gato told her he would burn a candle for her and someday her name might be inscribed on a monument to all the brave ones who’d laid down their lives for Mexico. She laughed, gallantly, said she doubted there’d be room enough on any one slab of marble, and moved to the door. Longarm saluted her, even though she was the one who needed a bath the most.
They gave her a good five minutes. By this time they had Don Julio passing for a mighty thick-waisted and flat-assed dance-hall gal, if nobody looked too close. The Great Costello, nearest the window, said, “There went the last volley of skyrockets. Things will soon be getting back to normal. We’d better go for it, now.”
They did. They sweated bullets going down all those stairs, but as they crossed the lobby they saw one of the rurales posted there barely glanced their way and his pal, bent over in a chair, never even looked up. The desk clerk didn’t even want to notice them and ignored the keys Longarm tossed on the counter top.
They were across the crowded main street and heading up an alley Longarm might not have noticed if El Gato hadn’t been in the lead with the disguised Don Julio. Once they were deeper into the dark stinky maze, the man they’d rescued began to strip off the female duds, saying, “Bueno. Where do we mount up for some riding, amigos?”
El Gato said, “We don’t. The horses we rode down on are safe enough where they are and, not likely to inform on us. By this time the small detail that was holding you will have enlisted la policia ciudad and los federales. They will have roadblocks set up all around, and there are few places one can cross the Rio Bravo when it’s in flood.”
Valdez protested, “Damn it, we can’t just stay here.”
El Gato told him, “I know. That is why we are on our way to the house of ill repute these girls work for. The first floor is a big cantina. The second floor is lined with cribs. Few rurales or federales who come in for to get drunk or laid could know there is a third story, above the cribs, see?”
The rescued Mexican laughed but asked, “Are you sure we can trust women who enjoy sex with the enemy?”
Rosalinda, clinging to Longarm’s arm, sniffed indignantly and said, “Shame on you. How can we enjoy it when they never pay?”
Her comrade in arms added, “Si, we fight for a free country where nobody gets to screw a woman por nada unless she really likes him.”
So the four men and their two patriotic ladies of the evening made their way through the inky maze, guided by El Gato’s amazing night vision, to the last place los rurales might search for them. The attic of their favorite whorehouse.
Chapter 16
“What is the matter with you?” asked Rosalinda in the privacy of her own quarters under the sloping roof. “Do you scorn me because of the business I’m in, or are you one of those men who prefers young boys?”
Longarm chuckled as he reclined on one elbow aboard the one item of furniture there was in the tiny room, the sleeping mat, and said, “Land’s sake, Rosalinda, we just crept up the back stairs with the whole place crawling with the law.”
She hugged her knees at the far end of the mat to insist, “Pooh, the madam says all the lawmen in town are out looking for you caballeros. This floor is solid and we have no bedsprings for to worry about. I can understand your coldness back at that hotel—I confess I was worried myself—but we got away as planned and, damn it, all this excitement has made me feel most passionate.”
Longarm knew himself well enough to guess he might be feeling more like celebrating if he hadn’t spent an hour or so, earlier, with another mighty passionate gal. He was sort of vexed about that, too. For chubby little Felicidad had only been pretty, while Rosalinda was downright beautiful, and built a lot more interesting, too. He said, “We just got here. Give a man time to get used to the situation before he takes his gun rig and boots off, for Pete’s sake.” She asked, “Who is this Pete, some pretty gringo boy you like more than me? I can take it that way, if that is your desire.” He stifled the laugh he felt like laughing and said, “That’s an awful thing to say about the gent you call Pedro, and I feel sort of insulted myself. I like gals fine, the old-fashioned way, but there’s a time and a place for everything and, besides, I don’t know if I can afford you. I only make a little over five hundred a year plus expenses, and I’ve been spending money like it was going out of style since leaving Denver.”
“Oh, for why do you speak to me in such a cruel manner? Have I asked you for money, even when I risked my life for you?”
“No, and I admire gals with a romantic nature. I’ve always felt too romantic to pay for it, myself.”
But now she had her head down on her knees and was crying fit to bust, intimating he’d called her a whore. She was a whore, but a good old gal who’d backed a dangerous play as well. He took her in his arms to soothe her and say, “Aw, hush, there’s no need to carry on so silly, Rosalinda. Didn’t El Gato promise all you gals would get your names engraved on stone someday? I’m sure that once Don Julio overthrows the government he’ll be glad to put you in for a medal.”
She didn’t seem to be groping for a medal right now—Longarm was sure he hadn’t hung one on his fool pecker, ever. So as she got to working on his fly buttons he said, “Hold on, now. What do you think you’re doing?” even though he knew what it was.
She got it out and wailed, “I knew you loathed me! You are only half erect, you brute!”
He kissed her throat and told her, “That’s more than I had any right to expect, and you’re doing just fine, querida mia.”
So as he kissed her sweet passionate face and they both fell back across the bedding together, she got to playing with him more skillfully, and since it only seemed polite to run his free hand up under her satin skirts to return the favor, he forgot all about his earlier affair at the posada that same night. By now he might have gotten his second wind with old Felicidad in any case, if she hadn’t insisted on leaving early, bless her consideration.
Rosalinda purred, “Oh, it’s beginning to feel as if you do like me, after all. But don’t you think we should get out of all these awkward clothes?”
He said that sounded like a fine idea. She beat him, easy, having less to take off, and knelt naked on the floor to haul his boot off, panting, “Apresusa! I am mad with passion?”
That made two of them by the time their healthy naked bodies were entwined in good clean animal lust atop the rumpled bedding. But because he’d been with another animal, earlier, Longarm took longer than usual to satisfy himself, and she took that as a compliment that satisfied her immensely.