"I need that man out, please", Pillbox Hat told the driver. He pointed at Valentine. "Cuff him for now".
Valentine's back went clammy. Had a wanted poster made it into the Southwest? He could confuse the issue for a few days with his false IDs, but capture would mean...
"Okay, boss", the driver said as the man in the shotgun seat pressed a button three times on his belt walkie-talkie. "Get out, Max. The girls here want to look into those pretty brown eyes".
Valentine complied, leaving his weapons in their brackets, and as they snapped the cuffs on and patted him down, more Quislings gathered to watch.
"You ever go by the name David Valentine, chief?" Pillbox Hat asked.
Valentine just breathed, centering himself, pulling in lifesign. It kept the Reapers away, but it was also calming. "No, sir, don't know him".
"I didn't say if you knew him".
"Sorry, sir".
Lautenberg walked up, moving at a pace just short of a trot, his lead rig driver just behind. He approached the officer in the pillbox hat. "What now, Hopgood?"
"We're detaining one of your men so we can run some prints. He fits a description. Indianish, black hair, scarred, 'bout the right height and weight".
"Detain? How long's that going to take?"
"A day or two at most. You can move on".
"Argent, you wanted for something?" Lautenberg said.
"Some guy named Valentine", Valentine said, hoping he could still brazen it out. "All red man heap look alike, Road Chief".
Lautenberg planted his feet and crossed his arms. "This convoy isn't leaving a man behind".
A sergeant passed Valentine's papers over to Hopgood with a shrug.
"Up to you", Hopgood said. "Bring the wagon", he yelled across the gravel to his idling men. "We'll take him to Blackwater Holing".
"The hell you are", Lautenberg said. "Hopgood, I've been easy on you because you're new, and I don't like making enemies. But wouldn't it be kinda dumb for some fugitive to pass right through one spot he's sure to be looked at?"
"This guy's clever. He took out a whole regiment of TMCC and blew that big Mississippi Grog cannon into orbit".
"Be news to his mother", Lautenberg said. "Until she passed, Max here was taking care of her every day of his life. Kansas militia trusted him with a gun, I know that. My Ingrid's married to Tom Stormcloud over in Topeka. He's Stormcloud's cousin".
Valentine had no idea what spring this torrent of bullshit was coming from, but it fitted his faked papers like a jigsaw piece. Lautenberg had just glanced at them briefly back at Nancy's.
"Now, you can detain this kid", Lautenberg said. "I can wait here, getting madder and madder every hour. And when General Cox in Albuquerque runs out of black-label bourbon and has to listen to those three coochies of his bitch about how they're all outta lipstick and undies, well, I might just call you a bad name or two when he asks what was keeping me. You ever talked to Cox when he's bone-dry on whiskey?"
Hopgood looked from his thick sheaf of wanted posters at Valentine, then at Lautenberg, and back again.
Lautenberg patted his hip pocket. "Lord, Corporal Guadalco, you smoked three cigarettes with Max here last October. You showed him a picture of your kids".
"Oh yes, I remember, remember very well", a corporal in a non-regulation straw hat spoke up.
Hopgood wilted. "I'll cut him loose this time, Lautenberg. But your reputation's riding on this".
"My reputation's riding on about three hundred tires", Lautenberg said. "I just want them spinning again".
Valentine felt the cuffs come off, and showed his relief.
"Thank you, sir", he said to Hopgood.
"Smile, Hoppy, and have a cigar", Lautenberg said, extracting a gleaming silver case. "You road rangers know I'm just trying to get from A to B and back to A. Smuggling fugitives doesn't come between A and B. Or A and Z for that matter - it's a whole 'nother alphabet".