“I’ll handle this,” he whispered out of the side of his mouth in a poor Jimmy Cagney imitation.
“You will not,” she protested. “Step back, Captain. That’s an order.”
He gave her a withering look and turned back to the pseudo-bandits who had gotten off their horses and were approaching, spurs jangling, guns cocked. The outlaws watched the argument between Rafe and Helen with bewilderment.
The leader, whom the men had addressed as Ignacio, wore a flat-brimmed, wide sombrero, a double-holstered gun belt at his waist, ammunition straps crisscrossed over his chest, and calzonetas, the fitted Mexican trousers that flared out when unbuttoned over riding boots. His sidekicks wore battered cowboy hats, woven scrapes over their shoulders, gun belts, and calf-high leather boots. They were all covered with dust.
Ignacio stopped suddenly and leveled two long-barreled revolvers at them, one in each hand. His cohorts did the same with their own firearms. “Raise your hands, amigo. You, too, senorita.”
Rafe began to step forward, snarling. “You scumballs better scram if you know what’s good — ”
A shot rang out, nipping the tip of Rafe’s heavy leather boots. Rafe’s eyes almost bugged out as he jumped back. He said a very foul word, then asked angrily, “Are you guys nuts?”
Geez! These creeps are putting on a good act, Helen thought, whoever they are.
“Raise your hands,” the bandit repeated icily.
With the barrels of the pistols a mere ten feet away and the glaring ridge on the tip of Rafe’s boot, they decided to comply.
“So,” Ignacio gloated in a heavily accented voice, “The Angel finally gets his wings clipped.” Then he frowned. “Why do you wear those strange clothes? And why ees Elena wearing men’s trousers?”
Rafe and Helen glanced down, then back to the outlaws. They weren’t the ones wearing odd clothing.
“And why do you and your woman dress alike?” the young man asked Rafe.
“Because we’re G.I Joe and G.I Barbie, the military Bobbsey twins,” Rafe growled. “Why the hell do you think we’re dressed alike? A fashion statement?”
Even though he was holding a gun, the young man jerked backward at Rafe’s little display of temper.
Ignacio shrugged, dismissing their garments as of little concern and moved on to more important matters. “Empty your pockets, both of you,” the leader demanded, then added, “And take off the necklaces, too.”
“What necklaces?” Rafe asked.
“No, no, no,” Helen objected as understanding dawned. “Rules of military conduct state a soldier should never remove his dog tags.”
The looney outlaw began to press both trigger fingers.
“Forget the friggin’ military for once,” Rafe exhorted, and she decided to comply.
They tossed their dog tags to the ground, along with Rafe’s wallet and loose change, her packet of Kleenex, ring of keys, a Bic pen, and both of their survival vests.
Still holding one gun on them and lowering the other, Ignacio examined the loot and made grunting noises of disgust, the paper money and credit cards making absolutely no impression on him. The pen, keys, and Kleenex held no interest, either, but he handed the dog tags to his partners, who peered at them closely, tested the metal with their teeth, then put them on their own necks. Ignacio picked up the loose change, then kicked aside the wallet, which Rafe quickly pocketed.
Pablo examined Rafe’s Ray-Ban’s, made a disparaging remark about black spectacles, “mus’ be fer blind people,” and was about to throw them on the ground when Rafe cried out, “Hey, those shades cost me a hundred dollars.”
“A hundred dollars?” Pablo exclaimed dubiously, but stuck them in his saddlebag, probably for some future profit.
Ignacio went to work on their survival vests. The bandits kept only the signaling mirrors, waterproof matches, compasses, and pocketknives. They scrapped the plastic-sealed food packets, unable to understand what they were or how to open them. Likewise, the items in the first-aid kits were discarded, though they kept the small containers. The trioxine fuel, water desalter, plastic spoons, insect headnets, fishing tackle, and snare wires were also kicked aside as useless. Ignacio’s two pals donned the vests under their ponchos.
And finally, Pablo flipped the broken harness aside, but jammed Rafe’s intact harness, along with the parachutes from the ground and the two, still-folded reserve chutes into his saddlebags. What he would do with those items, Helen had no idea.