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?"

Bowers nodded, thoughtfully. "All right." He watched Flynn rise and move to the door, then nodded as Flynn did. The screen banged.

He took a sip of the mescal and putting the glass down he saw the four Americans watching him.

The street of the house of Hilario Esteban was quiet. There were sounds from other streets, but here was only sun glare on sand-colored adobe and a thin shadow line close to the houses extending down both sides of the street. The bullfight poster near the deserted home of Anastacio Esteban was hanging in small shreds now and only a few words were readable.

A small boy ran out of the house next to Hilario's.

"I will hold your horse!"

Flynn swung down and handed him the reins. "Carefully."

"With happiness," the boy smiled.

It was a woman who opened the door to his knock. Stooped, beyond middle age, a black scarf covered her shoulders and her dress beneath that was black. Hilario appeared behind her and his eyes brightened.

"David!"

"How does it go?"

"Well," the alcalde answered. He motioned the woman and Flynn past him into the room.

The woman moved to the fireplace and sat on the floor there. She began stirring a bowl of atole and did not look at Flynn. With her head down, her figure was that of a child who weighed less than ninety pounds.

Hilario indicated the woman and said, "La Mosca. She is a herb woman, but now she prepares atole for me out of kindness. If there were a wound on my body, La Mosca would apply to it seeds of the guadalupana vine each marked with the image of the Virgin and soaked in mescal…or a brew of pulverized rattlesnake flesh if I were afflicted with the disease which the gachupines introduced to the women of our land…but she can do nothing for me now."

"Listen, Hilario," Flynn said. "I have not much time. I've come to tell you that your daughter is alive. I saw her."

He heard the soft rough sound that cloth makes and La Mosca, the curandera, was next to him.

"I have felt this," she said, "and have already told our alcalde of it."

Flynn said, "All right. Then I'm confirming what you have already told."

Hilario's voice was barely above a whisper, breathing the words in disbelief. "Is it true? Where?"

"If I told you that, you would go there hastily-"

"With all certainty!"

"And that would not be wise." He touched the old man's arm. "Look. I am going there now, with a plan. It is a matter of trusting me. If I told you where I was going perhaps others would find out-"

"Not from me."

"Perhaps not. But this not telling you is an additional safeguard."

The curandera said then, "She is being held by a man."

Hilario looked at her. "This comes to you?"

La Mosca nodded. "The man is not Indian. That I also know."

She can figure that out without looking into the future, Flynn thought.

"Is this true, David?"

"My companion, the one I came with, will remain here. He knows about this and will help you if for a reason I cannot come back."

Quietly Hilario said, "All right."

La Mosca said now, "You will come back." Her wrinkled face looked up at Flynn. "This comes to me now. You will return by the beginning of Dia de los Muertos-the festival of the dead-and you will bring with you the daughter of this man."