Delgado was frowning. He wore pants with striped suspenders over his underwear. “How do I know you’re coming?”

“Just move your people,” Mendez said. He turned to the coach again. “You wash at the bench by the door. You follow the path around back for other things.” He offered his hand and Mrs. Favor got out. Then the McLaren girl.

“Twice in one night,” Delgado said. “An hour ago we are in bed and three men come by.”

“You should have stayed up,” Mendez said.

Mr. Favor was just getting out of the coach. “Did you know them?” he asked.

“Some riders.”

“But did you know them?”

Delgado looked thoughtful. “I don’t know. I think they work for Mr. Wolgast.”

“Is that usual,” Dr. Favor said, “them coming by this time of night?”

“Man, it happens,” Delgado said. “People go by here.”

By the time I went around back and came out again, just Mendez and Russell were standing there. Mendez took a bottle that looked like brandy out of his leather bag and both of them had a long drink.

Two boys, in shirts and pants but barefooted, came out of the adobe. Both of them smiled at Mendez and one of them called, “Hey, Tio, what have you got?”

“Something for your grease pails,” Mendez said, “and the need of clean horses.” The boys ran off again, around the adobe, and Mendez turned to John Russell again.

“How do you like a mud wagon?”

Russell said something in Spanish.

“How do you like it in English?” Mendez said.

“That again,” Russell said.

“Practice, uh? Then you get good.”

“Maybe if I don’t speak it’s better.”

“And what does that mean?” Mendez asked.

Russell didn’t say anything. One of the boys came running out again with a bucket and Mendez said, “Paint them good, chico.”

“This costs more at night,” the boy said, still smiling, as if still smiling from before.