Chapter Ten

The advent of winter loomed over Mud, drawing closer like the freezing of ice: impossible to track or measure, and yet suddenly, you realized it was there. Many of the townspeople prepared for hibernation, the cold-blooded animals eating up and closing shops until spring. Flocks of birds could be seen flying south in the sky. Coal heaters, new at the department store, were selling like hot cakes since they were introduced. Marie herself beat the rush and bought one, even though she had a fireplace. Cold billowed through the town, mostly because of the season, partly because of fear in the rattlesnake known to be staying in the abandoned bank. Not all denizens of Mud shared the confidence of Sheriff Rango. Only a few, including Priscilla and Wounded Bird, were not put on edge at the mention of the "serpentine devil".

Marie herself could not understand why they were scared of the rattler. On the contrary, she had a growing respect for him, and admired the air of ferocity and danger he commanded. But then again, she had not seen the murder of Sheriff Amos, nor the other numerous atrocities the snake had caused for the town.

There wasn't much to do - she had stocked up enough food to last her until spring and obtained a nice supply of fuel for the fireplace while the temperatures dropped. And still, her wounds were hurting. It was just a dull ache, and she assumed it was because of the chilly climate, but it was persistent. She was worried that Red Leroy would send another retriever, a whole team of them now that he knew where he was, but she kept those feelings well hidden. Despite that and the cold, an unknown cheeriness bubbled in her stomach like champagne bubbles. Sitting near the warm fire seemed to make her restless instead of calm, as it usually did.

In the midst of Doc's instructions for her recovery, Beans had never said that she couldn't drink. She wasn't an alcoholic, she was glad of her resistance to strong spirits, but much like a fat man loved cupcakes, a mongoose loved a good drink. She thought this as her head lay on her shoulder for a moment, watching the coals in the fire, then she got to her feet, fetched a thick, silk anorak, and shuffled out the door. She walked down the main street until she could see the prominent shape of the gas can saloon.

Inside there was a full out brawl. Marie stood in the doorway, being very still and frowning in puzzlement. There was no way she could make her way to the bar counter. And look, Buford wasn't even there. She spotted him dodging a very angry looking lizard, Crispin - the one who liked to play cards. For a moment she considered joining them. A nice fight was always a thriller. But then she remembered her wounds. Better not overdo it if she could help it, she thought. Annoyance pursed her lips, somewhat smothering the cheeriness inside her.

"And where the Sam hill am I supposed to get a stiff drink, now?"

Gordy, the turkey, stumbled towards her into the nearby wall. Clutching his head in his feathers he drawled something that sounded like, "Try the cantina.", and he swung back into the fray.

"Oh. Thank you," she said, as if the situation was much more trivial, and she stalked out of the saloon.

The cantina was not as shabby looking as most rest of the town. A large jug had two windows and a door with "Cantina" above it in red letters, while a much larger clay pot behind it had "Live Music" painted on the side. The inside of the cantina was warm. The main part had just a simple bar plus a few small tables, and past it a doorway to the larger part which contained a stage and several more larger tables. Right behind the bar counter, the wall was one big shelf of bottles and bottles of gin, wine, rum, and many other spirits. Much more extensive than the saloon.

The barmaid at the counter looked up when Marie walked in. She was a raccoon, wearing a Mexican dress - white with colorful embroidered flowers. She would've been very pretty, except that she looked aged a little before her time, like many of the other townspeople. Barely visible lines of white flecked her fur and dark brown hair in a single braid along her back. Some subtle wrinkles seemed to have formed at the edges of her eyes and between her brows. Despite this, Marie guessed they must be around the same age, and the coon smiled at the sight of a customer. A rat she recognized as one of Bad Bill's lackeys, and the rat she's met her first day in town, was also in the cantina He was snoring at a table with several bottles near his head. Considering the amount of choice in drinks, she was surprised there weren't more customers.

"Bienvenida! Welcome! What can I get for you?" The barmaid had a confident, light voice with Mexican accent, which seemed to suit her figure.

"What's the strongest drink y'all have?" asked the mongoose, her face inquisitive.

"Ah... Moonshine?" Her eyebrows lifted for a second. "At this time of day? Well, es real strong, though. You sure you wan' it?" She hesitated at Marie's nod, then gave a sort of half smile before looking at the shelves bottles behind her. "You wouldn't be Mongoose Marie, would you, mija?"

She blinked hard once. "I am. An' who might you be?"

The coon turned around holding a glass and a jug-like bottle, like a miniature version of the cantina. "My name is Paula," she said with a smile, flashing a chipped tooth. "I heard a lot about you. Is it true you was de one—"

"—that killed the Jenkins Brothers? Yes. Spare me the story."

"Oh... Ok. Who da guy dat try to kill you, ah? I heard that it happen just a few days ago."

Marie paused, then gave a shrug and gulped down half the glass. She frowned. She took another swig.

"Do you have anything stronger?" She asked, avoiding the other question, slight disappointment in her voice.

Paula's mouth fell open, her eyebrows coming together. "You're kidding me." She uncorked the jug of moonshine again and sniffed at it. Her body recoiled abruptly, as if she had been pushed backwards. Her tail went rigid and her eye twitched for half a second.

"Ay... chica! She asks if we have something stronger. No, señorita, we don't." She gave an impressed smile. "But you's trying to change the subject. Well, I guess it's not my business anyway," she added at the mongoose's pursing lips. She stared at her for a few seconds, holding the jug. "You's got strange eyes, mija. Like... Like a goat. Or a cow."

Marie gave a wry grin. It was not the first time someone had commented on her eyes. Unlike weasels and other look-alike animals, mongooses had horizontal, rectangular pupils, which was creepy to some and mesmerizing to some others.

"They help me see around me," she explained. "With these, I can read a book and still see to the sides. It's real helpful when you're huntin' or get in a brawl."

"Yeh..." The raccoon was still staring, but then she seemed to shake herself. She leaned against the counter on her elbows. "Killin' dem Jenkins Brothers, de snake comin' ta town... 's like da sheriff all over again."

She put her elbows on the counter as well. "Sheriff Rango? What do you mean?"

The raccoon grinned a little lopsidedly. "Lemme tell you da story, mija. When he came to town, we had no water. He was like a hero, say he was from de west. He even say he was de one who kill dem Jenkins Brothers."

Marie's eyebrows rose significantly as she went on. So that's what Chorizo had been talking about, when he called her the real killer of the weasels.

"Ya, mija. He seem pretty great at first. He killed a hawk his first day here. The mayor made him sheriff."

She listened with curious attention. Last night she had learnt about Jake's story, and now she was learning Rango's. Paula's retelling wasn't nearly as entertaining as the chameleon's, but it was interesting, all the same. She laughed at the sheriff's blunders - "forming a possum", the theatrical apprehension of the water thieves...

"But then, he got run out of town by Rattlesnake Jake." Her voice nearly whispered his name. "Nasty thing to see. Everyone saw dat Rango was a fake. He never done none of da things he say he did. Da snake told 'im: 'If I see your face in dis town again, I'll take your soul straight down ta hell!'"

"Wait, so why is he still here?"

Paula continued, smiling in the distance now. "He came back, mija. He came back and challenge de snake. He saved us from da old mayor and brought all de agua back to da town. A little strange, he is, but a hero too."

"So... That's what he was goin' on about.," she mused, remembering what Jake had told the last time she spoke to him. They're sayin' how Mongoose Marie's another fake, same as before... "And what happened to Rattlesnake Jake?"

"Oh, he left, take da old mayor with him. But now he's back too..." She looked at Marie thoughtfully, and she tried not to fidget under her stare. Hastily she took another sip from her cup.

"Is it true he saved you? From da cat who attacked you?"

The mongoose stared at her glass in her paw. This subject was making her uncomfortable. Finally, she heaved a sigh and nodded. The edges of her mouth raised ever so slightly, but she leaned back to look at the ceiling so the barmaid would not see. Paula stopped smiling, but a twinkle in her eyes remained.

"Well, mija. You done with da moonshine?"

"Hmm? Oh. Yeah, yeah." She paid the barmaid. It was rather expensive despite being a somewhat weak drink... to her, anyway. Then she stopped. She counted her money. In front of her, Paula was putting away the jar and washing the glass, but she took no notice. The mongoose counted her money again. It couldn't be, not so quickly.

God dammit, Leroy. She thought. You couldn't 've paid my brothers a little more? The funds stolen from her dead brothers were dwindling. Curse her lack of forethought. Sure, she had taken the money, but not half of her possessions including art supplies, clothes, and the like, all of which she had to re-buy in coming to Mud. And she still owes Doc for patching her up. She had probably just enough to keep her until spring, as she might not have to buy much more food, but after that, she would definitely need some kind of income. "Starving Artist" was a title she viewed with derision, though it was what she may very well be once her money ran out. She put her forehead into her paw, grumbling about hunting and odd jobs as the barmaid walked back her way. Art was the last thing she wanted to do for a living. She had a knack for building stuff, but there wasn't anywhere that needed a crafter's hand. Maybe she could ask...

"Paula," she said clearly, her head still in her paws, her eyes closed. Paula turned towards her.

"Yeah, mija?"

"You wouldn't happen to know of any job opportunities, would you?"

The raccoon pondered for a moment, her eyes looking up for a moment. Then she gave a little "Oh!", and snapped her fingers.

"Well, we got a job right here. Good for you, I think. Haven't had anyone in months, I guess dat's why business's been so slow..."

"What are you talking about, Paula?" Feelings of hope rose within her. Whatever this job was, Paula seemed to think she was the one for it.

"Ah, mija. I'm talking about música! The last singer left in the drought and she never come back. You can sing, can't you?"

The hope in Marie's chest sunk into her stomach. "No," she stated sadly. "Not really."

"Ooooh, she is modest." The raccoon teased. "You are Mongoose Marie. You tell me you can't sing?"

"I said I can't." Irritation seeped into her voice. The barmaid looked at her skeptically, then have a shrug.

"Qué pena... You look like you would be a good singer." She sighed and gazed at the rag she was holding. "This cantina is—"

But Marie never found out what the cantina was, for at that moment the raccoon stared past her, something like shock and anger on her face. She turned in the direction she was looking, and saw the table at which the rat Chorizo had been, only it was empty.

"PINCHE PENDEJO TACAÑO!" *

The scream made Marie jump and whip around to face the barmaid once more. She was furious, a scowl seemed to be etched onto her face. With an abrupt movement she threw down the rag and stomped over to the table.

"Mira! Look at this!" Her paws motioned to the empty bottles laying on the table. "Five bottles— five bottles of Corpus Whiskey! This is de last time he gets away with this! I'ma go straight to da sheriff this time! Ay, Madre de Dios..." She trailed away into Spanish, speaking quickly with a guttural sort of edge, and Marie was left to sit quietly on the counter and watch the pacing raccoon.

"Em... Paula..." She said, trying to calm her down. Either the raccoon had an explosive temper, or Chrorizo had committed some serious kind of larceny. Or both. "If you want, Paula, I can go tell Rango what's happened..."

"What?" Her eyes snapped to the mongoose. "Oh, mija. I'll go with you. I donno why he never done nothing before, when I see him, I'll—"

"No, I think it's best if you stay... Don't worry, I'll give him a good what-for."

She smiled reassuringly as she hopped down from her stool and headed towards the door.

"If you see de rat, Marie..." Paula was picking up the bottles, still scowling. "I don care if you slice 'im up same as you did dem Jenkins Brothers."

Marie gave a sound of recognition and stepped once more into the cold, wondering if the chameleon was even available or already in hibernation.

* Pinche pendejo tacaño - Google it.