When Odom and Bates left Quigotoa, Paco and Schuler stayed behind. Schuler stayed because he had gotten drunk the night before and was still passed out drunk the next morning. Paco stayed to, in his words, “look after Schuler.”

“Señor,” Paco said, shaking Schuler awake. “Señor, wake up.”

“What?” Schuler mumbled. “What is it? What do you want?”

“Wake up, Señor,” Paco said.

Sitting up, Schuler rubbed his eyes, pinched the bridge of his nose, then looked around.

“Paco, what are you doing here?”

“I have come to wake you up, Señor Schuler.”

“Why?”

“Because you are in the room of my sister,” Paco said, only sister came out as seester. “My sister is a puta. She needs the room now.”

“What time is it?” Schuler’s eyes seemed to be floating in their sockets, and it was obvious he was having a hard time focusing.

“It is seven o’clock, I think.”

“Damn. I need a drink.”

Paco handed Schuler a bottle of tequila, and Schuler turned the bottle up to his lips, then took several swallows before lowering it. The drink had the effect of waking him up, and the eyes that couldn’t focus but a moment earlier now stared pointedly at Paco.

“Paco,” he said, as if just seeing him for the first time. “What are you doing here?”

“My sister needs this room now,” Paco said.

“Hey!” a voice shouted from the hallway outside the room. “If you ain’t got a whore in there with you, get the hell out!”

“All right, all right,” Schuler called back. “I’m coming.”

There was no need for Schuler to get dressed, because he was wearing the same clothes he’d had on when he went to bed the night before. For that matter, he was wearing the same clothes he’d worn last week, and the week before that.

Schuler got to his feet rather unsteadily, stabilized himself for a moment by holding on to the bedpost, then, summoning as much dignity as he could, took two steps across the little room and opened the door.

There was an Anglo cowboy standing in the hall, with his arm draped around Rosita’s neck. His hand was cupped around one of Rosita’s breasts.

“What the hell were you doing in there anyway, you goddamn drunk?” the cowboy asked Schuler. “You ain’t had a woman in so long, you wouldn’t even know what a naked woman looks like.”

“I’m sorry,” Schuler said.

“Yeah, well, sorry doesn’t get it,” the angry cowboy said. “Just get the hell out of the way and let a man get his business done.”

“Yes, I’m sorry,” Schuler repeated.

Schuler followed Paco to the head of the stairs, then stopped for a moment in order to steady himself before he tackled the task of going down the narrow, steep flight of stairs. By holding on to the banister, he managed to negotiate them; then, standing on the main floor, he looked around the saloon for the others.

“Do you want breakfast, Señor?” Paco asked.

“Breakfast? No,” Schuler answered, the expression on his face reflecting his nausea over the thought of breakfast. “Where are Odom and Bates?” he asked.

“Odom said we are to meet him and Bates in Puxico.”

“We are to meet them in Puxico? Why?”

“We will divide the money there.”

“I don’t understand. Didn’t we divide the money last night?”

“Sí, we divided the money last night. But then we gave the money back to Señor Odom.”

“We did?” Schuler replied.

“Sí.”

“Why did we do that?”

“Señor Odom said it would be better if we went to Puxico before we divided the money. Do you not remember this, amigo? We talked about it, and we all agreed.”

“No, I—I don’t remember,” Schuler said. His confusion was very evident now. “I don’t think I would agree to such a thing. I don’t want to go to Puxico.”

“That’s because you were drunk, Señor,” Paco said.

Schuler ran his hand through his thinning, white hair. “All right,” he said. “Are you coming?”

“You go, Señor, I will come later,” Paco said.

“Puxico?”

“Sí, Puxico.”

Paco watched Schuler leave the saloon, then he walked over to the window. He saw Schuler saddle his horse and ride away before he walked back into the saloon to sit at one of the tables.

“Do you want breakfast, Paco?”

“Sí.”

“Beans, tortillas?”

“No, Señor. I want steak, eggs, and coffee.”

“Ha! Did Rosita give you some money or something? You are ordering like a rich man.”

Paco laughed, then thought of the saddlebags he had hidden in his room. In them, he had almost eight thousand dollars, counting the money he had just stolen from Schuler.