"Didn't you know that?" Flynn asked.
"I have never visited his camp."
They sipped at the mescal, saying nothing. It was not a tension, but an uneasiness. After a moment Flynn said, "How do his men get on in the village?"
Duro shrugged. "As well as can be expected. They are, of course, sometimes primitive in their ways. As men would have to be who live as they do, by fighting Indians. But I have asked our people to treat them with courtesy since they are rendering our government a service." He sighed. "But sometimes they eye our women too covetously and with this my men are prone to raise objections."
"In other words," Flynn said, "they don't get along."
"Not all of the time, no."
"Lieutenant," Bowers said, "one of the reasons we came…I wonder if I could talk you into selling me a gun from your stores. I lost both of mine yesterday. That's if you have any extras."
"I could not possibly sell you one," Duro said stiffly, then smiled. "But I would be honored if you would select any gun you wish, as a gift."
They finished their drinks and descended to the equipment room. Bowers chose a Merrill carbine, and then a.44 Remington handgun which Duro insisted that he take. And though again he offered to pay for the arms, Lieutenant Lamas Duro would have none of this.
Flynn said, "Let us buy you a drink now."
But Duro refused painfully. "I'm sorry…a volume of paperwork awaits me. You would not believe that only thirty men can do so much to expand the records." He bowed. "Perhaps another time."
They walked off toward Las Quince Letras, leading their horses, as Duro mounted the stairs.
"Well," Bowers said wearily, "what does he know?"
"One thing I'm willing to bet on," Flynn answered, "-the difference between a Mimbre and a Mexican scalp."
From the sunlight they entered the dimness of Las Quince Letras, Flynn half expecting to see Frank Rellis, half hoping and ready, but Rellis was not there though four Americans were toward the other end of the bar at a front table. Three girls were with them. They looked up as Flynn and Bowers moved to the bar. Here and there were men of the village, older men, sipping their wine or mescal slowly to make it last and they looked up only for a moment.
"Those four weren't at Lazair's camp," Bowers said. The men with the girls at their table were still looking toward them.
"No, I didn't see them," Flynn said. He held up two fingers to the mustached Mexican behind the bar and said, "Mescal." Then to Bowers, "Let's sit down."
They brought bottle and glasses with them to a table. Bowers poured the mescal and pushed a glass toward the cavalry scout. His eyes held on the sandy mustache, waiting for Flynn to say something. Bowers was in charge-that's what the orders read-but it wasn't that simple. Just putting a man in charge doesn't make it so. Bowers was realizing this.
He said finally, "Now what?"
Flynn was making a cigarette. He lighted it and blew smoke and through the smoke said, "I'm going back to Lazair's camp."
"When?"
"As soon as I see Hilario."
"Alone?"
"I think it would be better." Looking at Bowers he added, "If there are no objections."
"Of course not."
Flynn leaned closer. "Have you been figuring this?"
"How does it stand?"
"I know which is the worst now. I think Soldado is in second place, then the rurales."
Flynn added, "None very pleasant, and all of them hating each other. What does that suggest?"
"The obvious. Get them against each other."
"You want to work on it?"
"I'm not sure about going about it."
"Santana, Duro's sergeant, I think he's the one to start on. Tell him about all the Mexican girls in Lazair's camp. Concentrate on Santana. Make up whatever you like; whatever he wants to believe; something that would take time to prove."
"And Duro?"
Flynn said thoughtfully, "And Duro-He's in with Lazair, that stands to reason since he's paying for scalps he knows damn well aren't Apache. Santana against Duro…that makes sense…if you can work it."
Abruptly, seriously, Bowers said, "Why was I sent on this?"
"Somebody had to go."
"You told Deneen he should have picked a man with more experience."
"I shouldn't have said that."
"Why did he pick me?"
"I don't know. How well does he know you?"
"I met Deneen in Contention for the first time."
"Your dad was division commander over both of us in the war. Maybe you knew, Deneen was a captain then. I've known him off and on for thirteen years."
"Well?"
Flynn shrugged. "Maybe he admired your father so, he knew you'd make a good soldier."
Bowers glanced up from his mescal, but said nothing.
"Look, what difference does it make?" Flynn said. "We're here now."
"He dislikes you," Bowers said, glancing at him again. "That's apparent."
"You can't like everybody."
"It's more than that."
"Why not just think about the job you have to do?"
"All right."
Flynn finished the mescal in his glass and rose. "I'm going to see Hilario now. Look for me the day after tomorrow. But if I don't come then, wait a few more days before you do anything."
"You don't want me to go with you?"
"If it doesn't work with one, it wouldn't work with two."
"You make it sound like taking a walk in the park."
The corners of Flynn's eyes creased as he smiled; then the eyes were serious. "Look, I'd like to help you…but there isn't any pattern to these things. You can't open Cooke's Cavalry Tactics and get the answer. Much of this is patience. But having time to think, you end up worrying about what you're going to do first, then about why you were sent and you even worry whether or not Apaches become afraid." Flynn smiled. "I meant that as no offense."
Bowers said, "That's all right."
Flynn sat down again. "Let's get it out in plain sight. You know Deneen doesn't have one ounce of authority to send us down here?"
"He's Department Adjutant. I'd say that was enough."
"In Arizona. This is Mexico, somebody else's country. Remember, the orders said the army would not recognize us as lawful agents if we were held for any reason."
"He explained that to me in Contention," Bowers said. "He said so far it was a verbal agreement with Mexico. We can cross their border so many miles and they can enter the United States, if it means running down hostiles. He said he had to put that not responsible business in the orders as a formality. The agreement was supposed to be in writing soon, he said probably before we'd get here."
"But Duro said if his government had known about it…" Flynn said. "That doesn't sound like an agreement."
"Then why are we here?" Bowers said.
Flynn hesitated. "You're here because you're obeying an order." He added, "Because you're not in a position to question authority." Now go easy, he thought, and said, "I'm here because I want to be. It's that simple."
"Yet you say neither of us have any business being here." He wanted to ask Flynn what was between him and Deneen, but it wouldn't be in order.
Flynn smiled again. "All right, but what would you be doing if you weren't here? Parade drills…patrols that never find anything…mail-run escort-"
Bowers nodded.
"So…why don't we do the world a good turn and kick Soldado's Apache tail back to San Carlos. And if problems come along we'll meet them one at a time and not worry about everything at once. Right?"