Suddenly they all heard the sound of trotting horses.
A moment later the first Apache turned the corner of the bluff and moved into the clearing. Ortiz was almost directly behind him.
He sat on his horse with an insolent and casual elegance, a supremely dangerous figure in his scarlet shirt and headband. The moment he appeared, Rivera gave a sort of strangled cry, and raised his rifle.
“Don’t do that, you idiot!” Dillinger shouted.
The shot, badly aimed, caught the pony in the neck, and Ortiz pitched forward into the dust. He rolled over twice, came to his feet with incredible agility, and plunged into the thicket as Rivera fired again.
His companion was already wheeling his pony to follow him when Chavasse, Dillinger, and Villa all fired at once. The Indian toppled from the saddle, and his pony galloped back along the trail.
Rivera kept firing into the brush, pumping the lever on his rifle frantically, until Chavasse pulled the weapon from his hands.
“It’s too late, you damned fool. Can’t you understand?”
Rivera stared at him, his face pale, a translucent film clouding his eyes. Suddenly, eight rifles blasted at once from the thicket, bullets passing in through the windows and thudding into the plaster on the opposite wall.
Chavasse pushed Rivera to the floor, and Dillinger and Villa crawled beneath the windows, closing the shutters. In each shutter there was only a small loophole, but plenty of light still slanted down from the upper windows. One or two more bullets chipped the outside wall or splintered a shutter. Then there was silence.
Dillinger peered cautiously through a loophole. Ortiz’s pony and the dead Apache still lay in the center of the clearing. Everything was still.
He started to turn away, but from the next window Chavasse asked, “What’s that?”
A branch was being held out into the open, a rag of white clothing dangling from the end. Villa said, “They want to talk terms.”
“That remains to be seen,” Dillinger said. “It could be a trap.” He turned to Nachita. “What do you think?”
Nachita shrugged. “There is only one way to find out.”
He unbarred the door and walked outside. For a moment he held his rifle above his head, then he leaned it against the wall and went forward. Ortiz emerged from a thicket to meet him.
Rivera took a single step forward, and Villa swung his rifle toward him. “I think not, Don Jose.”
For a moment Rivera glared angrily at him, and then something seemed to go out of the man. He turned away, shoulders sagging.
Nachita and Ortiz were talking in Apache, their voices carrying quite clearly in the stillness. There was a sharpness to their exchange. After a while, Nachita turned and came back, leaving Ortiz standing there, shouting things after him.
“What is it?” asked Rose, taking old Nachita’s hands in her own.
“Ortiz does not wish to deal with me. He says that because I consort with all of you, I am a traitor to the Apache nation.”
“What does he want?” Dillinger demanded.
“You,” Nachita replied. “He says you of the white car are the leader.”
“No.” Rose moved forward. “He can’t be trusted now. He might do anything.”
Her concern was plain for everyone to see. Dillinger smiled and put down his submachine gun. “Hell, angel, you take a chance every day of your life.”
Rivera said, “I am the one who should be discussing terms.”
Dillinger looked at him calmly. “Thanks to you I’m not sure we’re in shape to do that anymore.”
He stepped into the hot sun and walked across the clearing. Ortiz waited for him, hands on hips.
Dillinger halted a few feet away, and Ortiz said in English, “So, you came over the mountain. I had not thought it possible.”
“You haven’t asked me out here to exchange pleasantries,” Dillinger said. “What do you want?”
Ortiz said, “Take a message to Rivera. Tell him that if he gives himself to me, I shall hand over the child. The rest of you can go free.”
“How can we be sure she’s still alive?”
“See for yourself.”
He stepped into the thicket, and Dillinger followed. The two men pushed their way through the brush and emerged into a clearing in the pine trees where the ponies were tethered. An Apache squatted on the ground, the only one in sight. Juanita de Rivera sat on a blanket a few feet away from him playing with her doll.