"Didn't want to walk back to the nearest town," she replies, taking a swig of her beer. "Wasn't really lying, either, it was all true at one point or another. Besides, I wanted to see that gang of yours."
Tess watches him for a beat, running her teeth over her lower lip. Even if he were pissed, she doesn't think she'd mind.
"I wasn't out to take advantage," she replies. "Listen, we don't run a lot of business up here, so Dutch won't have to fuss about us. You and I had a good couple of days. We should just enjoy that."
The way she sees it, the truth would ever matter, either, if they never saw each other again. No harm, no foul, right?
He waves the thought away, shaking his head. "We already have plenty of enemies. Just- don't tell Uncle there what's goin' on. I'll never hear the end of it."
She wouldn't want one, she thinks, but it isn't always up to her. Especially with men. Not a lot of women in this line of work, much less in leadership roles, and she's met more than one man who took a particular ire about competing with a woman.
"It's between you and me," she replies, glancing to Uncle a little more subtly. "And hell, if you've got an enemy you need mopping up while we're in the area, let me know. I'll tell my guys to keep an eye out."
"I can solve my own problems," he tells her, now feeling a little bristly. Who the hell does she think she is? Showing up all of a sudden and infiltrating the camp, getting under his skin a little.
He looks at the bartender and makes a quick gesture- another round, and quick.
“Aa long as it takes to set up this deal,” she replies, with a little grin. “Mostly we work down at the border, but it’s all supply chains. The more we have set up, the better.”
“Guns,” she replies. No sense hiding it; he’s been honest with her and she can be a little in return. The revolution brewing down there has been working towards a boiling point for decades, and there’s money for Tess and her people in stoking the fires. “There’s a big market. Bigger there than anywhere in America.”
He sits back and actually considers that. He'd never go into weapons trading, and he sure as hell isn't telling Dutch about this, but it's a surprise that that's what she's doing. That's very dangerous, more risk than he'd take for cash.
"How do you get the weapons across? Donkeys in the mountains?"
“Depends on how much we’re moving and the particulars of the time of year,” she replies, smoothly. “It gets easier with the right bribes. Uncle Sam wants Mexico to have guns, after all.”
"Uncle Sam wants poor Mexicans to pick up arms they can't get otherwise and become revolutionaries." She leans an elbow on the bar, smiling. "And he has been getting that for years. Whole place is a powder-keg."
"All need some way to make a living," is all he has to say about that. Not that he minds a gun himself. It just feels strange to traffic them, for this purpose.
He's been a merchant of misery. He knows what that does to a person.
"That's the way I see it," she replies. No point in dwelling on something that'll only rob her of sleep and strength, and if she doesn't do it, someone else will anyway. Might as well be her pockets getting lined. "Your gang gets by robbing homesteads?"
He shakes his head, leans an elbow on the bar. "I don't know. Dutch wants to make more money to get us all outta here. Somewhere with not as many rules."
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"Don't look like no ranch to me."
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"Why'd you lie?"
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"I shoulda known, somehow, huh?"
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"I wasn't out to take advantage," she replies. "Listen, we don't run a lot of business up here, so Dutch won't have to fuss about us. You and I had a good couple of days. We should just enjoy that."
The way she sees it, the truth would ever matter, either, if they never saw each other again. No harm, no foul, right?
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He waves the thought away, shaking his head. "We already have plenty of enemies. Just- don't tell Uncle there what's goin' on. I'll never hear the end of it."
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"It's between you and me," she replies, glancing to Uncle a little more subtly. "And hell, if you've got an enemy you need mopping up while we're in the area, let me know. I'll tell my guys to keep an eye out."
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He looks at the bartender and makes a quick gesture- another round, and quick.
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"Suit yourself," she says. "I just figured I'd offer. Being nice, and all."
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"So how long are you stickin' around here for?"
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He sits back and actually considers that. He'd never go into weapons trading, and he sure as hell isn't telling Dutch about this, but it's a surprise that that's what she's doing. That's very dangerous, more risk than he'd take for cash.
"How do you get the weapons across? Donkeys in the mountains?"
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He's been a merchant of misery. He knows what that does to a person.
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Easy pickings, but also, well, they tend to send Pinkertons after them. That's more troublesome.
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"And that's enough for your gang? You've got a lot of mouths to feed."
No judgment, just curious.
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He shakes his head, leans an elbow on the bar. "I don't know. Dutch wants to make more money to get us all outta here. Somewhere with not as many rules."
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guess who wrote this and then forgot to hit post comment LKJASLDKHSDFKSDFsd
HOW DARE U
CRIMES AGAINST PSLS
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