little town there appeared to be nearly as many Americans in the bar as there were Mexicans. Fargo found a table in the corner and then ordered a meal of beans, bacon, and cornbread.
“And beer,” Dagen said. “Don’t forget the beer.”
“And whiskey,” Casey added.
“And women,” Monroe said. “Don’t forget to send some of them women over.”
“We ain’t got time for no women,” Fargo said. “You seen what happened to us the other night when we was messin’ with the women.”
“Yeah, but that don’t count,” Monroe said.
“Why don’t it count?”
“’Cause it was one of us what done it to us. And there ain’t none of us goin’ to do somethin’ like that to us again,” Monroe said. “Not without I kill ’im first,” he added determinedly.
Fargo shook his head and chuckled. “Monroe, I’m sure there must be some sense in what you just said, but damn if I can figure it out.”
Evidently, Fargo’s admonition to his men to avoid the women had not reached the women themselves. For as the men were eating, a couple of the bar girls came up to the table. Like the other girls in the cantina, and like Carmelita and Rosita from the other night, both of these soiled doves were Mexican. They had long black hair and smooth, clear skin that shined golden in the lantern light. One of the soiled doves was a little younger than the other, and she was considerably prettier than most bar girls any of the men had encountered. Somehow she sensed that Fargo was the leader of the group, and she sidled up to stand beside him.
“My, all of you are such handsome hombres,” the younger girl said, smiling seductively, not only at Fargo, but at every man around the table.
“We’re more’n handsome, honey, we’re ...” Dagen started, but before he could finish his comment, Fargo interrupted.
“I’m looking for an American whore,” he said.
“Oh, Senor, you do not want an American whore,” the young one said. “The blood of American whores runs cold. The blood of the Mexican whores runs hot. I am Mexican,” she added. “That means my blood runs hot for you.”
She emphasized her comment by arching her back proudly and pushing her pelvis forward. “Don’t you want me, Senor?”
“I told you, I am looking for an American whore. Do you know a whore named Suzie?”
“Suzie?
“This one is Frederica,” Dagen said, pointing to the young one. “What is your name?”
“I am Ava.”
“Well, Ava, me’n my pards here has rid a long ways and we’re hungry and thirsty,” Dagen said. “But as soon as we eat ’n drink, why, I reckon we could show you and little Frederica here a thing or two.”
“No, we cannot,” Fargo said. “I told you boys, we ain’t got time for none of this. Leastwise, not till we get back what’s rightfully ours,” he added, using the term “rightfully” in its broadest possible sense since they actually had no right to the money at all.
Fargo looked directly at Frederica. “I want Suzie,” he said.
“Sorry, Senor, but Suzie is not here now,” she answered.
“You don’t have time for us, but you have time for a gringo girl?” Ava asked, pouting.
“Honey, I got time for you,” Monroe said. “It don’t take me very long a’tall. Hey, Fargo, come on, what do you say a few of us take a little time off and go upstairs with ... ?”
“No!” Fargo said sharply. Then, turning to Frederica, he asked again. “Where is Suzie?”
As she realized that she was not making any progress with him, the smile left Frederica’s face and she shrugged. “She is in her crib, Senor, but I know she will not see you now. She has a man with her, and I think he will stay the night.”
“Who is he?” Fargo asked. “Who is the man with her?”
“It is someone,” Frederica answered. “I do not know his name.”
“What does he look like?”
“He is a gringo,” Frederica said with a shrug of her shoulders. “How can I tell you what he looks like? All gringos are the same.”
“You can’t tell me anything about him at all?” Fargo asked. “Tall, short? Beard, no beard? Cowboy, miner?”
Frederica shrugged. “He is not tall and he is not short. He does not have a beard but he needs a shave.”
Fargo took out two dollars and put the money on the table. “Are you sure that is all you can tell me?”
The woman shrugged. “Maybe I can tell you something more,” she said.
“What?”
“Son of a bitch!” Dagen said, slapping his hand on the table. “Fargo, it’s him! Suzie is with Ponci!”
“What did she say?” Fargo asked.
