“Can’t take you nowheres. Wake up.”
“Wha…?” The big lug raises crusted eyes beneath white blond brows.
“You smell…throw up.”
Head drifting and chin dipping, Stubbs’s forehead smacks the table again.
The Navajo scout shoves his hat back. “Gringos—too emotional.” He strides to the well and douses his friend with a spittoon-full of water.
Nothing; nobody watches; nobody cares.
Without warning the blond lurches upward like a zombie.
“Hey man, we gotta get you outta here. You can’t show your face in this cantina again.”
“Can’t say, or you’ll murder somebody.”
The scout squints, and grins.
~ * ~