“She said the gringo has a limp.”
“A limp? The hell you say.” Fargo smiled and nodded. “Yes, that’s our boy Ponci,” he said. “It has to be.” Happily, he gave a dollar each to the two women.
“I told you boys we would find him,” Fargo said. “Come on, let’s go see the son of a bitch.”
“It will do you no good to go see the gringo, Senor. Suzie will not see you,” Frederica said as the four men stood up from the table.
“Oh, I think she will,” Fargo said.
“Don’t you ladies go anywhere. We’ll be back,” Casey promised as they started toward the door.
“Don’t count on it,” Fargo said.
At a table in the back corner of the saloon, Billy Cates turned so that Fargo Ford wouldn’t see his face. Billy had once ridden with Fargo, but they’d had a falling-out over some money. Billy and his friend Les Wilson accused Fargo of cheating them on their share of the money they’d stolen from a general store over in Cholla. They settled the argument with guns, and when it was over, Fargo rode away with all the money, leaving Billy wounded and Les dead on the floor.
Billy had been going straight ever since then, working now as a cowboy on a ranch just outside of Mesquite. He did not want to renew his acquaintance with Fargo Ford under any circumstances.
He stayed there, with his back turned, until Fargo and the others were gone.
“Do you know where to go?” Dagen asked after they stepped outside.
“Yeah, I know where to go. I know where her crib is.”
“Listen, Fargo, uh, since you wouldn’t let us have nothin’ to do with Frederica or Ava, how about while you’re dealing with Ponci, we ... well, not you, but would you mind if the rest of us ... uh ... well, I mean, I know she is your sister, but if she is a whore and ...” Dagen let the sentence hang when he saw the way Fargo was looking at him.
“After we take care of Ponci, we ain’t going to be staying around long enough for nothin’ like that,” Fargo said. “Besides, you think I’m just goin’ to stand around and let you screw my sister?”
“Why the hell not? You said yourself she’s a whore. Ain’t that what whores do?”
“Yeah, Fargo, what do you say? I mean, you could come back here with one of them Mex girls whilst the rest of us screw your sister,” Casey said.
“Unless you got a thing aginst us doin’ what ever’one else is doin’ to your sister.”
“You could all three screw her at the same time as far as I’m concerned,” Fargo answered. “That ain’t got nothin’ to do with it. But after we get finished with Ponci, I don’t think it will be all that smart for us to be hangin’ around here.”
“Oh,” Dagen said. “Oh, yeah, I reckon I see what you mean.”
The four men mounted their horses and rode down to the far end of the street, stopping in front of a leather goods store.
A sign hung from an iron rod that protruded from the front of the store.
ARMBRUSTER’S LEATHER GOODS
SADDLES—BOOTS
HOLSTERS—BELTS—CHAPS
H. Armbruster, Prop.
The sign made a squeaking noise as a gentle breeze moved it back and forth on its hinges. Next door to the leather goods store was WHITE’S APOTHECARY. It didn’t have an overhanging sign, but there was a painting on the window of a mortar and pestle.
Fargo dismounted, and handed the reins of his horse to Casey. “You boys wait here,” he said. “And take care of the horses. When I come out of there, I don’t want to be pickin’ my nose and scratchin’ my ass, lookin’ for my horse like what happened to us back in Calabasas.”
“You don’t need to be worryin’ none about that,” Dagen said. “Your horse will be here when you come back, I promise.”
Fargo smiled. “Oh, I ain’t goin’ to worry none, Dagen,” he said. “If my horse is gone when I come back, I’ll just kill you and take yours.”
“Your horse will be here,” Dagen said again.
“Hey, how come I don’t seen Ponci’s horse anywhere?” Monroe asked.
“The dumb son of a bitch ain’t that dumb,” Fargo answered. “He’s not likely to leave his horse tied up out on the street where we could see it now, is he? I mean, you have to know he’s figurin’ on us comin’ after him.”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” Monroe said.
Fargo pulled his pistol, then started walking through the narrow passageway between the leather goods store and the apothecary. He continued on down the constricted path between the two buildings until he reached the alley. Then he saw it, his sister’s crib. It was on the other side of the alley, a small, one-room shack made of unpainted wood. A very dim light, which Fargo supposed was a candle, glowed from inside the little crib.
Fargo walked very quietly to the front door, then slowly tried the door handle. The door was locked, but Fargo knew where Suzie kept a spare key. He reached up into the eaves and poked around with his fingers until he felt it. Then, putting the key in the lock, he turned it very carefully and pushed the door open. He stepped inside with his gun arm extended before him.
“What the hell?” a man’s voice shouted as he rose up in the bed.
“Ponci, you son of a bitch!” Fargo shouted. “Did you think you would get away with it?”
Fargo pulled the trigger twice. The gun boomed, and the muzzle flash lit up the little room. The sound of the gunshots drowned out Suzie’s screams.
