Sard told him.
“Where you wanna get to?”
“Las Palomas.”
“How’re you going to get?”
“Could I get a ride on a freight-car?”
“No, sir. The only freight-cars from here is silver cars. There’s not much these ’Tale guys mind, but they mind their silver. You’d be shot, sure as hell.”
“Could I get a job on the train, shovelling coal?”
“Nit.”
“Why not?” Sard asked.
“Cut the train right out of your thought,” the man said. “The freight-cars ain’t going to be healthy to you. My mate Antonio will remember you.”