“What do you mean, what am I going to do about it? What am I supposed to do about it?”
“You’re the leader, ain’t you? Leastwise, you been claimin’ to be the leader. You the reason we had to hightail it out of Mesquite. So by my way of thinkin’, that means it’s up to you to find us somethin’ to eat,” Dagen said.
“Yeah,” Casey agreed. “You’re the leader. Do some leadin’. Get us somethin’ to eat.”
“All right, there’s a ranch up ahead,” Fargo said. “We’ll get somethin’ to eat there.”
“How? Are we just going to walk up to the door and say, ‘Excuse me, but we’re awful hungry, and we was won-derin’ iffen maybe you wouldn’t feed us’?” Dagen said.
“Something like that,” Fargo replied.
“Well, I ain’t one for beggin’,” Dagen said. “I like to earn my keep.”
“Earn it?” Casey said with a laugh. “Dagen, what the hell do you mean earn it? You’re a thief, for crying out loud. We’re all thieves.”
“Yeah, well, that’s earnin’ it,” Dagen said. “Sort of.”
The others laughed.
“Don’t make me laugh no more,” Monroe said. “I ain’t got enough spit left to laugh.”
“Where is this here ranch anyhow?” Casey asked. “’Cause, I sure don’t see nothin’ that looks like a ranch.”
“It’s just up ahead a little ways,” Fargo said. “Another couple of miles is all.”
“You sure about that?”
“Yes, I’m sure about that. I told you, I used to live around here. Fact is, I worked on this ranch once. It’s the Double R Ranch.”
“Double R,” Dagen said.
“Double R for Raymond Reynolds,” Fargo said. He tore off a chew of tobacco, settled it in his jaw, then put his plug away.
“How come you quit ranchin’?” Monroe asked.
“’Cause the only thing dumber’n a cow on a cattle ranch is the men who are dumb enough to punch ’em,” Fargo said. “You are either too hot or too cold, too wet or too dry, and you ain’t never got two nickels to rub together in your pocket. I had me a bellyful of it, so I just up and quit.”
“I’ve always thought I’d kind of like to be a cowboy,” Monroe said.
“You’d make a good cowboy,” Fargo said.
“I would?”
Fargo leaned over and spit. “Yep. You’re just exactly what all the ranchers is lookin’ for. Someone who is dumb enough to do it.”
“That ain’t right for you to say,” Monroe said. “I ain’t all that dumb.”
“You ain’t?”
“No.”
“You’re ridin’ with me, ain’t you?” Fargo asked. He spit again, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Anyone who would ride with me is dumber’n shit.”
“Hey,” Dagen said. “When you say that, you’re saying that about all of us.”
“Yep.”
“Includin’ yourself,” Casey pointed out.
Fargo spit the last of his chew. “I’m especially talkin’ about myself,” he said.
They rode on in silence for another few miles; then Fargo pointed toward a ranch house in the distance. “There it is,” he said. “Just like I told you.”
Dagen and the other two riders started sloping down a long hill toward the main house.
“Where you goin’?” Fargo asked.
“Toward the ranch house,” Dagen replied. “Didn’t you say we’d get something to eat here?”
“Yeah, but not there,” Fargo replied. “Come this way.” He cut his horse off to the left, at almost a right angle to the way they had been going.
“What are we goin’ that way for? That’s the house over there, ain’t it?”
“Yeah, but I told you, we’re not goin’ to the house,” Fargo said.
“Well, if we ain’t goin’ to the house, just where the hell are we goin’?”
“You’ll see.”
Fargo led them on for about two more miles, and though Dagen and the others were anxious to know what he had in mind, it seemed clear enough by his determination that he had something in mind. And at this point, there was nothing they could do but follow.
“There it is,” Fargo said after a while. “That’s where we’ll get our next meal.” He pointed to a small adobe cabin that rose, like a clump of dirt, from the desert floor.
“Yeah,” Dagen said, smiling broadly and nodding his head. “Yeah, I see what you’re up to now.”
