Then, since he was at the bar, he ordered coffee. If he was going to drink something warm, he preferred it to warm beer. “Would senor be looking for some company tonight?” the bartender asked him. Clint looked at the man grinning at him with a couple of gold teeth glinting in his mouth. He wondered if the man had bought the gold with money he made from pimping out his own wife. “That’s all right,” Clint said. “I think all I’ll want to do tonight is sleep.” “It does not have to be Angel,” he said. “If she is too fat or ugly for the senor, we can provide . . . other companionship.” “No, no,” Clint said, “Angel would be fine, if I were looking for a woman, but I am not.” “A boy, perhaps?” “I’m not looking for anyone!” Clint said forcefully. “I’m just going to sleep tonight.” “Sí, senor,” the man said with a shrug. “As you wish.” He was finishing up his coffee when Ben Weaver walked back in. “This is a small town,” Clint said. “In fact, it’s a village.
