“They expect us to pick up a little extra on the side. But you can’t be serious, you just said your army is out looking for us!”
Longarm nodded and said, “I did. I doubt they’ll be expecting you to ride in for breakfast. With me vouching for you, I can promise you breakfast at least. Whether they’re willing to take you in entire or not will be up to them, of course.”
The sergeant laughed like hell, turned in his saddle, and called out, “This crazy cabren wants us to join the Americano army!” and while some laughed, at least a couple opined it sounded safer, if not easier, than joining the Apache nation.
The sergeant turned back to Longarm and repeated that he was crazy, adding, “Who ever heard of anyone but yanquis joining the yanqui army?”
“Me. More than half of the enlisted men are immigrants. Most of the native-born who join are colored. I never said it was considered a good job. A man can make a lot more as a cowhand, if he don’t mind working hard.”
The larded-over sergeant rode on in silence for a time before he growled, “Tell me, how difficult do you think it would be for a man with my military experience to make a few stripes in your own army?”
Longarm laughed and said, “There you go. Bucking for corporal before you’ve spent an hour in the chow line. To be honest with such an honest cuss, I can’t rightly say how long it takes to get promoted in a peacetime army. I met an old German boy, up near the South Pass during the Shoshone rising, who’d made buck sergeant in one hitch. Of course, he’d been an officer in the Prussian army, before he got in trouble with his colonel’s wife and had to join another army, fast, as a private. His English wasn’t as good as yours. On the other hand, he’d likely had more experience, fighting the French and all.”
The rurale sergeant snapped, “That’s a lie. I fought the French Legion at Camerone when we rose against Louis Napoleon’s puppet emperor, Maximillian. I guess I am as good a soldier as any square-headed German!”
Longarm didn’t answer. The sky above was clear as well as blue, now. The early morning air was cool, but it looked as if they were in for another scorcher. He still wanted his frock coat and more regular hat back, damn it.
One of the others called out in Spanish, asking their leader where on earth they were riding so boldly in broad daylight. The sergeant called back, “This one says we should join the Americano army. Don’t laugh, It’s beginning to make sense to me. It’s the last place anyone they send after us would look for us. It avoids a lot of tedious discussion with the Texas Rangers as well, and, what the devil, if we don’t like it we can always ride on, with fresh mounts as well as gringo disguises.”
They thought that was funny as hell. They were still joshing back and forth, promoting each other to lance corporal or putting each other on kitchen police when, ahead in the distance, a bugle blew and a tiny flag rose above the chaparral. Longarm said, “I figured it was morning. It’s more gloomy in the winter, when they run the colors up in the dark. The army pays no mind to the weather outside. Are you boys still with me?”
The rurale sergeant hesitated. Then he said, “Why not? You were all too right about every other hand being turned against us now. But what if they don’t need new recruits?”
Oh, I feel sure they’ll take you in. They got recruiting stands set up on the docks to grab greenhorns getting off the boats. Thirteen dollars sounds like more to a Swede than say a farmboy from Iowa.”
It must have sounded like a lot to a Mexican as well. The rurale leader said, “Bueno. But how are we to explain these uniforms we already have on?”
“Let me do the talking. I know the officers and it ain’t like deserting from foreign outfits is a federal offense in the U.S. of A. I told you about that German boy who had to leave the Prussian army sort of informal.”
And so, while some in the rear ranks still voiced a few reservations, Longarm was soon leading the ragged column of gray-clad rurales across the parade of Fort Bliss toward the guardhouse. From the barracks all around, blue-clad troopers gaped, and officers who’d meant to sleep a mite longer woke up.
Longarm reined in near the guardhouse and dismounted first as a wary-eyed sergeant of the guard came out to ask him what was going on. He murmured, “We got a dawn patrol out searching for Mex border raiders, Longarm. I sure hope you can vouch for this bunch.”
Longarm said, “I figured you might be on the prod out here, that’s how come I had ‘em ride in, slow, across the parade. Did I give you time to rouse the supernumerary gun hands inside?”
The army man said, “You did, and the officer of the day ought to be headed this way by now as well.”
Longarm nodded, turned on his heel, and called out to the still-mounted rurales, “You boys are all under arrest on the charge of crossing the border uninvited, more than once.”
The rurale sergeant gasped and roared, “Traidor! You told us you would help us join your army!”
“You weren’t listening sharp. I only said I felt sure they’d take you in. So I took you in to ‘em and-“
Then he had to shoot the rurale sergeant out of his saddle because the cuss was slapping leather. He only got one other rurale as the rest lit out in all directions, calling him and the U.S. Army awful names.
But, of course, none of them got all that far with the guard detail blazing away with rifles, and more than one pistol firing from windows all around as the confused rurales milled in dusty confusion until every saddle was empty.
By the time the last shots echoed away and the dust was starting to settle, the officer of the day was coming with the corporal of the guard at his left. They both had their service revolvers out. As they joined Longarm and the sergeant of the guard, the O.D. stared soberly out across the carnage and put his gun away, saying, “My, what a pleasant surprise. How did you do that, Longarm?”
The tall deputy smiled modestly and said, “I had to. They was planning to murder me as soon as I guided ‘em to safety. So I figured this was the safest place for me to guide ‘em. I didn’t want such disgusting gents running loose in the U.S. of A. in any case. But now I got to get going, Lieutenant. This unplanned side trip has given more important killers I’m after one hell of a lead on me.”
The O.D. said, “We were afraid they’d killed you, too, when the army mount we loaned you came home without you.”
Longarm blinked and asked, “My saddle, gear, and that chestnut wound up here, you say?”
The O.D. nodded and said, “We were just talking about it, over at the corrals, when you showed up as well. The gelding came in lathered and jaded, as if you’d really put him through some hard riding.”
Longarm said, “I didn’t do it all to the poor brute. The Great Costello swapped mounts with me down Mexico way and no doubt rode like the devil was after him, even if it was only me. I was expecting to catch up with my hat and all in El Paso, not out here, though.”
The O.D. shrugged and said, “Maybe the chestnut threw a rider who abused him and just naturally decided to come on home.”
Longarm thought before he sighed and said, “Mat would be too nice to ask. The little bastard is a fair rider, even on a poor mount. Try her this way. He made her to El Paso, or close enough to matter. Then he turned the chestnut loose, knowing it was an army mount who’d be likely to rejoin the army. He had no way of knowing I was headed here instead of into town after him. He done it to throw me off his trail. I was supposed to scout every livery and hitching post in El Paso in vain while he and his sidekicks made further plans. But, thanks to them good old boys sprawled all about us, I don’t have to waste as much time as he counted on, searching for my stuff. I got a railroad timetable in my frock coat, too, if it’s still rolled in my possibles. I’d best go see.”