come in with. His horse was already saddled.
Falcon walked to his horse and swung into the saddle. Then the boy handed him the reins of the second horse. Falcon shook his head, then looked at Keytano.
“Keep this horse,” he said. “This is a gift to you, to express my grief over the death of your daughter.”
Keytano said nothing but nodded.
Falcon rode out of the village, fighting the urge to break into a gallop, depending upon Keytano’s honor to keep Chetopa from shooting him in the back. It didn’t take too long before he disappeared into the night.
CHAPTER 12
A fly landed on Fargo Ford’s face. Without waking, he brushed it off, but the second time it landed, it woke him up. He lay there for just a second to get his bearings; then he realized where he was.
Last night he had brought Carmelita to his room. He had kept the whore all to himself, telling the others to share Rosita. Turning his head, he saw her in bed beside him. The bedsheet came up only to her waist and she was naked above it. In the bright light of the morning sun, she didn’t look nearly as attractive to him as she had last night. The dissipation of her profession was beginning to show, and she looked older now than he had thought she was last night. There was a terrible scar on one of her breasts, ending with a split nipple.
“Damn, woman, someone cut you pretty good,” he said under his breath. He got out of bed, then walked over to the window and looked outside. The window opened onto the back of the cantina, so he raised it, then relieved himself over the windowsill, shooting a golden stream out to glisten in the morning sun.
“There is a chamber pot under the bed,” Carmelita said from behind him.
“This’ll do fine,” Fargo said, shaking himself off. He walked over to the chair and started pulling on his trousers. “How’d you get your titty all cut up like that?” he asked.
As if just now realizing that she was naked from the waist up, Carmelita jerked the sheet up to cover herself.
“A very bad hombre,” she said.
“Woman, you ain’t never seen an hombre as bad as I am,” he said.
“You ... you are going to hurt me, Senor?” Carmelita asked in quick fear.
“No, I ain’t goin’ to hurt you,” he said. He looked at her as he buttoned his shirt. “But if I had seen how ugly you was last night, I sure wouldn’t of give you as much money as I did.”
“I’m sorry I do not please you, Senor.”
Fargo laughed. “Oh, hell, I didn’t say you didn’t please me. You was good enough in bed last night. And like they say, in the dark all cats are gray.”
Fargo pulled on his boots, strapped on his gun, and picked up his saddlebags.
“Well, I guess I’ll be gettin’ my pards and movin’ on. We got a ways to ...” He paused in mid-sentence, then hefted the saddlebags again. His eyes narrowed, and quickly he opened the flap and looked inside. “Where’s my money?” he asked.
“You heard me! My money, you ignorant bitch! Where’s my money?” Fargo pulled his pistol, cocked it, and shoved the barrel of it into her nostril, pushing so hard that her nose began to bleed. “You stole my money!”
Fargo pulled the pistol back, then ripped the sheet off the bed. Seeing nothing, he pushed her onto the floor, then pushed the mattress off, so he could look under the bed.
The money wasn’t there.
“Where is the money?” Fargo demanded again, this time hitting her across the face with the flat of his pistol. Now, both her nostrils were bleeding, and he left a cut on her lip.
“Where is my money?” Fargo asked again, shouting at the top of his voice.
Suddenly the door to the room opened and, turning toward it, Fargo saw the bartender rushing in, holding a shotgun. Fargo shot first. The .44-caliber bullet punched through the bartender’s chest, then broke through his back, leaving a quarter-sized hole. The bartender fell back into the hall, firing his shotgun as he fell back. The charge from the shotgun tore a hole in the ceiling.
By now the others, except for Ponci, were out in the hallway, guns in hand. All were in their underwear.
Casey walked over to look down at the bartender. The bartender was on his back, lying in a pool of blood. His eyes were open, but unseeing.
“Fargo, what the hell happened?” Casey asked. “What’d you shoot him for?”
Fargo turned toward Carmelita. “This bitch stole our money,” he said. He nodded toward the bartender. “He must’a been in on it, ’cause he come runnin’ in with that scattergun.”
“The whore didn’t steal the money,” Monroe said. “Don’t you remember?”
Fargo looked at Monroe. “Don’t I remember what? What do you mean, the whore didn’t steal the money?”
“You put all the money in Ponci’s saddlebags last night. You said bein’ as how he was the only one who wouldn’t be with a woman, it would be safer there.”
