Below, away from the others, Chato and Cochin were whispering. Chato said, “I know how much Ortiz hates Rivera, but now that we have killed Federal troops, it will be like war. We will be killed if we fail, and even if we win for a while, there are thousands of them, and they will drive us into the mountains.”
“You speak the truth, brother,” Cochin said. “I had hoped with the coming of better times to go north into New Mexico, to find some kind of work, to send my own son to school. Now all that is fleeing on the wind because of Ortiz’s lust for revenge.”
“If we leave, brother,” Chato said, “we will be deserters.”
“If we stay,” Cochin said, “I may become an assassin.”
“Of whom?” said Chato in alarm.
Together they turned, because Ortiz had come down from the mountain.
Rose said to Rivera, “I wanted to see you privately, uncle, to tell you that despite the angers that have crossed us with each other over the years, I am pleased that you are letting my friend try to find Juanita for you.”
“Sometimes a tragedy brings people together,” Rivera said. “After this is over, do you plan to go north with your friend?”
“Nothing has been decided, uncle.”
“Thank you, my dear, for coming to talk to me after all these bitter years,” Rivera said.
As she turned to go away, Rivera thought, Once Juanita is back in my hands, there will be no one for Rose to go north with. Dillinger will be dead and no one will miss him. Not even Rose after a time.
Rivera led Dillinger, Rose, Chevasse, Villa, and Fallon to the company office, fifty yards up the street from the hotel. The sign over the door said Hermosa Mining Company. Rivera unlocked the door. The main room was furnished as an office with a desk and filing cabinets. In one corner was a metal cabinet, which when unlocked by Rivera revealed an assortment of arms.
Dillinger pointed to an all-steel door toward the back. “What’s that?”
Fallon, who knew damn well what was behind the door, flicked Dillinger a look that said maybe he shouldn’t have asked the question.
“Oh,” Rivera said, “the gold from the mine, after it has been processed, is stored there before being shipped to Chihuahua. There will be enough in there for your fee, and Fallon’s, when the time comes.”
The very way he put it made Dillinger uneasy. But he had no time for such thoughts now. On the top shelf of the metal cabinet he found his favorite weapon, the Thompson submachine gun. He picked it up, as if shaking hands with an old friend, and loaded it with one of the hundred-round circular magazines.
“Nice to get this back,” he said. “I can recommend that shotgun if anybody wants something reliable for close quarters work.”
Chevasse picked it up. “Just the thing for me, the worst shot in the world.” He also selected a revolver and pushed it into his waistband.
Dillinger felt funny about Rose’s taking a revolver and an ammunition belt and strapping it around her thin waist. He handed her a rifle. “Better take this, too. Don’t know if we’ll get close enough for a handgun.” What he was really hoping was that she would stay as far back as possible.
“I’ve always had to take care of women,” Dillinger said. “I never thought there’d be one watching out for me.”
At the hotel a couple of mestizos were using Rose’s horses to clear the debris of the burnt-out porch.
“Careful,” Rose was saying. “Don’t damage the main part of the building.”
Just then she saw what she had been waiting for, a single rider coming fast. Within seconds, Nachita was pulling up alongside her, his breathless pony stomping and whinnying.
“What did you find out?” she asked.
Dillinger and Fallon both came over to hear, Chavasse and Villa joining them.
“Ortiz is clever. From where he is, he can see you coming at a great distance. The closer you get to his camp, the harder it will be for you to retreat rapidly. It is a natural fortress of stone, high ground that overlooks the path up.”