22
“How do you know the others won’t blow to the marshal when he comes back pissed?”
She snorted. “Most people don’t like to be noticed, even for a payoff. And the merchants of the Backwash think long term. Those booths are all they’ve got, and getting jammed up with the marshals or anyone else is a quick pass to the poorhouse here. They’d rather keep their heads down and look to selling to the next shift, especially when it’s payday. Like today.”
I nodded. It’s a rule in life—everyone defends the one they sleep with first. And everyone sleeps with money. “But not you,” I said. “You’re the exception.”
“In so many ways.”
I didn’t doubt that was true. I liked her. How I managed to keep finding exceptions like her, I have no idea. But I was still alive, so maybe my luck wasn’t all bad.
