hair, and some blood ran out its nose. She waited for the pig to get up. One of its legs was twitching; then it stopped. The giant pig was dead.
The door to the cantina opened, and two men stepped out. One was skinny and had scabs on his face. The other was an older man and he limped.
Both looked taken aback. The great pig lay dead, and a woman with sleet in her hair stood over it with a pistol in her hand.
The scabby man was not pleased. The older man just looked surprised.
'You killed our pig--what kind of wild slut are you?' the scabby man asked.
'I'm Joey's mother,' Maria said. 'If you're his friend, I would ask you to tell him to leave and go to the Madre. Captain Call is coming. I don't know where he is, but I think he's close.' 'How close?' Wesley Hardin asked.
'I don't know. His deputy is over by the river,' Maria answered. 'Famous Shoes is taking him to meet Call.' 'That old Indian ought to be shot,' Wesley Hardin said.
'She kilt the devil pig,' Red Foot said. 'I can't believe it. Hundreds of people have shot at that pig. Now this woman just walks into town and shoots the sonofabitch dead.' 'I guess the killer instinct runs in the family,' Wesley Hardin said. 'It's too damn breezy to stand out here worrying about a dead pig.' He looked hard at Maria. She thought he looked crazy. He reminded her of old Ramon, when he was in one of his fits.
'Come on inside, but I'll take the gun,' Wesley Hardin said, reaching for Maria's pistol.
She drew back. 'Why do you want my gun?' she asked.
'I don't like to be inside small buildings with women who shoot pistols, that's why,' Wesley Hardin said. 'You just killed the local pig. You might do the same to me, if I get unruly.' 'Not if you'll help my son,' Maria said.
The man was still reaching for her gun, and she still drew back.
'No, thanks, I live for myself,' John Wesley replied.
'Captain Call will kill him,' Maria said.
'For all you know, he might kill you, too.' 'No, they ain't paying him for me, they're just paying him for your boy,' Wesley Hardin said.
'Call's economical. He don't kill just anybody that needs killing. He just kills when he's paid.' Then he grew enraged; his splotchy face turned red and white.
'It's too damn cold to be standing in the wind.
Give me the gun and come in, if you want to discuss your son.' 'If I come in, it will be with my gun,' Maria said.
The scabby man seemed to lose interest in taking her pistol from her. He looked again at the dead pig.
'I wish there was some way we could charge people that want to come and look at this pig you killed,' he said, shivering. He kicked the pig a time or two; his boots had holes in them. Maria could see his toe through one of the holes.
'These Texans are superstitious,' he said.
'They think this pig was the devil. I could have killed it years ago, and I would have, too, if it had ever bothered me. I figured it was more interesting to let it live, so people would have something to be scared of.' Maria followed him into the low building. No more was said about taking her pistol. There seemed to be a thin trail of blood leading into the cantina, yet the dead pig lay outside, in the sand.
The cantina smelled of tobacco, spit, and whiskey. The limping man had his boot off. The trail of blood had come from his foot. The man did not look well. He was shaking, and his sock was soaked with blood.
'What's wrong with his foot?' Maria asked.
'I stomped it. The sonofabitch is a card cheat,' Wesley Hardin replied. 'What's the news, other than that Woodrow Call is on his way to Crow Town?' 'The-Snake-You-Do-Not-See is alive,' Maria said. 'Famous Shoes saw his track.' 'Oh, Mox Mox?' Hardin said. 'He won't bother me. I'm meaner than he is.
It's bad news for anyone else who crosses his path, though. He's meaner than most folks.' Maria saw him looking at her as a man looks, although she was dirty from her ride. She was glad she had kept her gun.
'There's a bed in that corner,' Wesley Hardin said, pointing. 'Come crawl in it with me.' Maria thought she should have known that was what he wanted when he invited her into the cantina.
Killers she had known had not wanted women much.
Their interest was in other things, as Joey's was.
She said nothing, but she was glad she had her gun.
'You're a fine one,' Hardin said. 'You come in here and kill our best pig, and you ask me to help your killer son, but you won't crawl in bed with me, even though I asked you polite. Have you got some old punch you bed down with, down in Mexico?' Maria remembered that Billy Williams had warned her about Crow Town. It had been foolish for her to bother the killer at all. She didn't know why she had thought he might help.
'A dollar and a quarter, then?' Wesley Hardin asked. 'Red can pay you. He owes me money. If he wants to throw in seventy-five cents for himself, he can have the second turn and you'll be two dollars richer before you even eat breakfast.' Maria turned and walked out the door. The killer gave her a hot look, but he didn't follow. He was shuffling cards.
She walked past the dead pig, and went to Joey's house. When she pushed inside, her feet and hands were cold, although it had only been a short walk. The woman who smelled was crying, and so were the two girls. The door to Joey's room was open. He was gone, and so was his rifle.
Maria ran out of the house, hoping he was still in sight; maybe he would at least let her ride with him for a while, out of the bad town.
