A woman ambled through a double-swinging door, past a poker playing, rum guzzling, squint-eyed laughing men, and to a bar stool where she sat and lifted a finger, and a swollen bellied, suspender-stretched man hobbled to her.
“What’ll you have?” he said.
“Whiskey straight.” She watched him peered at the swinging door and through a window. “Whiskey.” She watched further and then sighed. “He’s down a lane at a corral and will be here soon.”
He looked at her, and she nodded.
“Yes,” she said. “I know you were wondering whether or not I was alone.”