In Nogales, Mexico, Red Fleming stuffed his face full of enchiladas, tacos and rice while his brother watched him, nursing a glass of tequila.
“I don’t know how you can eat,” Harry Fleming said.
“Relax,” Red said. “Ain’t we talked about this already? We’re in Mexico. Even if Shaye or his boys come after us, they got no . . . what’s it called . . . authority down here. We can kill them and nobody’s gonna care.”
“As long as they ain’t comin’ with a full posse.”
Red pointed at Harry with the taco in his hand.
“If they took the time to put together a posse, then they’re even farther behind us. You should have somethin’ to eat and keep up your strength.”
Harry eyed the food in the middle of the table, then put down his glass and piled some food on his plate.
“Attaboy, Harry,” Red said. “Eat up! Then we’ll find us some fine Mexican whores!”
Harry looked over at the bar, where two girls were watching them eat. One of them had served their food, showing them her bare shoulders while she did it. Maybe Red was right. Maybe he should relax.
Across the border, in Nogales, Arizona, Thomas indulged himself with a steak dinner and a hotel room, and put his horse up in the livery for some feed and a night’s rest. In the morning he’d cross the border into Sonora.
While he ate, he described the Fleming brothers to the waiter, asked if he’d seen two such men. The waiter shook his head and asked Thomas if he wanted more bread.
In the saloon across from the steak house, Thomas asked the bartender if he’d seen the Fleming brothers.
“Don’t know ’em,” the man said.
Thomas described them.
“Ain’t seen ’em. You want another beer?”
He talked to a couple of the saloon girls, asked the same questions.
“Don’t know why you’re lookin’ for two men, handsome,” one girl said to him. She was a blonde, in her twenties, and very pretty. “Why don’t we go upstairs for a while?”
“I would do that, honey, but I’m afraid you’d be too much of a distraction, and I’ve got things to do.”
“Well, come see me if you change your mind.” She sashayed away.
The other woman was about ten years older than the first, with black hair and a face that had been pretty once, but she’d been doing this job too long for it to stay that way. Now she was attractive, but brittle looking at the same time. Her body had become a little thick in the waist, and her breasts threatened to spill out of the top of her dress. She was less flirty after he asked his question.
“Why you lookin’ for them?” she asked. “Messin’ with that kind is just gonna get you killed.”
“So you’ve seen them?”
“Ain’t seen ’em,” she said, “but I heard of ’em. Well, Red Fleming, anyway. He’s a killer.”
“That he is,” Thomas said, “and that’s why I’m lookin’ for him. Why don’t you let me buy you a drink?”
“Upstairs?” she asked.
“Down here’s good enough.”
“Drinks are cheaper upstairs, honey,” she told him.
“That’s okay,” he said. “I’ll pay.”
“Suit yourself. Hey, Al!” she called the bartender. “Gimme a drink. The cowboy here’s payin’. And give him another beer.”
They took their drinks to a table, and had their pick since the saloon was only about half full. The blonde girl saw Thomas sitting with the woman and frowned.
“What’s your name?”
“Belle.”
“So, tell me about Red Fleming, Belle,” Thomas said.
“Oh, like I said,” she went on, “I don’t know him, I just know of him. I’d hate to see a sweet boy like you end up dead because you didn’t know what you were gettin’ into.”
“Believe me,” Thomas said, “I know.” He took his badge out of his pocket and showed it to her. “I’m trackin’ both brothers, and aim to bring ’em in for murder.”
“Well,” she said, sitting back, “a deputy. I’m impressed. Guess I had you figured for a cowboy.”
“You figured wrong,” Thomas said, putting the badge back in his pocket.
“Why ain’t you wearin’ it?”
“Because I’m goin’ into Mexico tomorrow,” he said. “That’s where I figure the Fleming boys are, unless you tell me I’m wrong.”
“There’s no way I can tell you that, Deputy,” she said. “But why don’t you spend the night with me? At least you’ll have that to think about when Red Fleming is killin’ you.”
“I think I’ll pass, thanks.” He finished his beer and stood up. “Thanks for the offer, though. And the advice.”
“I just wish I’d been able to help you,” she said.
“Don’t worry about it,” he said. “I think you did.”