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hurt the gringa madre for real—I was playing.”
    “Do something for me and I won’t tell Gris what you did.”
    “What you wanting?” asked Coco. “I cannot get you escape from here.”
    “I want information. I want to know if somebody’s still alive.”
    “Who?”
    “The blonde woman they brought here with me.”
    “What is her name?” inquired Coco.
    “Yvette.”
    “Ella es tu hermanita?”
    “Si,” Dolores responded, “she’s my little sister.”
    Chapter VI
Unsafe and Safe Ventures
    Wearing his yellow riding outfit, Nathaniel Stromler rode his tan mare along the central avenue of Leesville, toward the blacksmith’s forge where he was to meet his future employers. A homogeneous blanket of gray clouds covered the vault, diffused the sun and threw the world into a drear limbo from which no person could divine the time of day. Underneath the effulgent slate, the gentleman and his horse failed to cast shadows.
    A crucifix that was only slightly darker than its dull surroundings glided across ashen sky, toward the avenue. Presently, Nathaniel, a novice birdwatcher, determined that it was some type of hawk.
    A thin black line sprouted from the creature’s neck. Silently, the aviator plummeted from the sky and landed upon the avenue. A short man with dark skin, shoulder-length grayish-black hair, blue denim clothing, a strange bow and a lopsided gait walked toward the felled hawk.
    Nathaniel neared the archer, and a third individual, a portly fellow with a green suit and a crescent of white hair surrounding his otherwise bald pate, emerged from a nearby storefront and clapped. “You sure can use that thing good,” enthused the elder. “Can I fiddle with it for a moment?”
    The archer, who was a native in his fifties, shook his head, a tacit refusal. He slung the strange bow over his bare left shoulder and knelt beside the bird carcass.
    The portly elder inquired, “You intend to make yourself some hawk stew? Maybe some hawk tacos?” He ruminated momentarily. “Hawk a vin?”
    “I’ll eat its eyes and mind.”
    A disingenuous smile did not disguise the portly man’s disquiet.
    The native plucked out his arrow, slid it inside a groove upon the back of his vest and picked up the bird by its talons. The head of the animal dangled, and crimson beads dribbled from the holes in its neck. Without another word, the native departed into an alleyway with his prize.
    Nathaniel glanced at the beads of blood that sat upon the dirt avenue like a game of red marbles, wiped chill sweat from his forehead and tried not to think about his fiancé, alone and crying in the baby’s room of the Footman’s house.
    Riding east along the avenue, the gentleman passed Harding’s Notable Chandler, Pocket Watches & Knick-Knacks, Dame Gertrude’s Dress Shoppe, Chemist Stuff, Baked Goods, Leesville’s Butcher and We’ve Got Some Guns. Ambitious dust was escorted from porches by the hissing bristles of thick brooms.
    Nathaniel neared a motley assemblage, the cynosure of which was a large wagon that had a tattered green canopy, which had been mended with a pair of yellow long drawers. Two tan, five foot nine-inch fellows, who wore damp beige clothes and had curly brown hair, flung blankets upon the bare backs of horses that were tied in front of the blacksmith’s forge. Stretched out upon the crossbar were four other blankets that a pudgy gray-haired negro, wearing a maroon suit, beat with a fire-hardened walking stick.
    It immediately occurred to Nathaniel that these were poor men to whom four hundred and fifty dollars would mean a great deal. He gently tugged upon the reins of his tan mare, and slowed the animal’s gait.
    The brothers adjusted the cloths that draped the animals’ spines, and the negro whacked a blanket. Without looking up from his work, the older sibling maneuvered so that his torso was on the other side of his horse, hidden from Nathaniel, and hitched his right shoulder. The younger brother, whose red