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“Yes.”
The big man said again, “She’s mine, I tell you!”
Anda took a breath, let it out and said, “Bobby Mata said that I should go to you. He said it before they killed him.” The crowd stirred.
“When was this?”
“Yesterday evening, at the slaughterhouse on the far side of Ojinaga. They killed him there.”
“Enough!” Yelled the big man, “Move aside, Cruz.”
Mingo tossed the towel to the side and said, “No, Raul. She was sent to me. You can leave now.”
The man flexed his hands, opening and closing them. “I’m taking her with me.” Mingo shook his head no, and the big man charged.
Anda watched Mingo wait until Raul’s arm drew back, then he moved, quick as a blink to shoot his open palm straight into the center of the man’s chest. The punch didn’t travel more than six inches, but Raul went backward like he was jerked with a rope, hitting on his back with a loud “Huuff!”
Mingo waited with his hands on his hips until Raul regained his feet, then Mingo flicked close again, pivoting sideways at the last moment to deliver a powerful side-kick into the man’s stomach. Raul flew backwards out the door and landed unconscious in the dust and gravel street. Several people walking by stopped to go through Raul’s pockets while he moaned.
Anda used a stool to pull herself up. Mingo came to her and said, “Come with me, and tell me about Mata.” He led her from the barroom, and as they left, music started up and the dancers resumed moving to the beat as if nothing had happened.
***
Outside Hartbrak Hotel, the street was full. Felipe asked, “Where do all these people come from?”
“Way the hills are, you can’t see the houses. Must be a thousand people living close by.”
“All employed here, in Outlaw Road.”
“Pretty much.”
“All criminals.”
“No, not all. Some are legit, just tough.”
“Do you think the little Indian will go to them?”
“How would I know? Look, we talked to thirty, maybe forty people tonight, and they know you’ll pay for information on her. Believe me, they’ll be looking. Plus, there’s us. We’ve been eyeing everybody in sight, and we’re gonna make another pass through town right now. She won’t get away this time.”
Felipe felt calmer after that, and bought more rounds of beer as they walked the street. They hadn’t gone a block when Elvis Guzman trotted up to join them. He was still in his Elvis jumpsuit. Felipe bought him a beer, and the four men worked their way through the crowd like tourists on Bourbon Street during Mardi Gras. When they neared El Longbranch, Jesse said, “There’s somebody laying out front.” He parted several onlookers, two of whom were rifling through the moaning man’s pockets. Johnny, Elvis, and Felipe followed.
Elvis said, “Ah know that boy. Name’s...Raal.” He pronounced Raul like the last syllable in corral. “Musta got cross with Mingo.”
“Who is Mingo?” asked Felipe.
Johnny said, “He’s the owner here,” pointing at El Longbranch. “Young guy, maybe twenty-four, twenty-five. Jesse and I were in there six, seven months ago and saw two guys with knives come in to shake him down. Mingo took them out quick, and all he had was a dish towel.”
“He beat them up using a dish towel?”
Jesse said, “Took ‘em out. Killed ‘em. He doesn’t have much trouble in there, ‘till tonight, looks like.”
Elvis said, “Boy’s tough as they come.”
Felipe said, “We should ask him about the Tarahumara.”
“No,” said Jesse. “He don’t really like us, and we don’t like him. There’s enough others in town to do the looking.”
Elvis said, “Yawl talked to Mora yet?”
