Mr. Mendez nodded again as if he was thinking. “The McLaren girl. Sure,” he said. “And maybe John Russell.”

It was all right with me. “That would be five inside,” I said.

“Six,” Mr. Mendez said.

“Not if I’m driving.”

Mr. Mendez shook his head. “You’re inside like a passenger. How does that sound?”

“Well,” I said, “could I ask who’s going to drive it then?”

“I am,” Mr. Mendez said. “Who else?”

The way Mr. Mendez decided to go all of a sudden didn’t make any sense at all until I thought about it a while. And then I realized it might not have been so all of a sudden at that. He could have seen money in this right off and been leading Dr. Favor on, seeing to make about a month’s wages in three days if he kept all the fares; and why wouldn’t he? That was one thing.

The other was John Russell being here. I think Mr. Mendez wanted to get him on his way before he had time to change his mind; before he spent another night staring at the ceiling and counting all the reasons why he shouldn’t go to Contention. Put him in a coach now and by morning Russell might be used to being close to white people again. But why Mr. Mendez bothered or cared was something else. Maybe because he was Mexican and John Russell was part Mexican. Does that make sense?

There was a lot to do before six-thirty. I had the Mexican boy get his father; they’d take care of the coach and horses. Mr. Mendez said he would go to the hotel for John Russell and the McLaren girl and also try and find the ex-soldier. So he would see me later.

Before he went though I reminded him I was going too, and he paid me my last wages. From then on I was no longer with Hatch & Hodges. It was a pretty good feeling, even not knowing what I was going to do in life now.

First thing, I went to the boarding house where I lived and put on my suit. It was pretty old and too small now, making me look skinnier than I was, but it would be all right for the trip.