Crawford looked at the knife. He sat down.
The table groaned as Aforismo lowered himself onto it and put his feet on the bench, running a finger up and down his belduque. Ford Innes began playing with his spoon on the table. Jacinto came from the dog-run with a dish of beans. He fumbled the plate at the last moment and almost tipped it onto the table. His fat jowls were trembling with his chin.
"Please, please, let's not have any—"
"So Whitehead broke his neck out in the thicket," said Innes.
"Have some beans, Glenn," said Bailey, ladling them onto a plate he had shoved before Crawford.
"They call them nacionales down in Durango, because so many Mexicans eat them," said Aforismo. "It is said of one who is weak that he lacks nacionales."
"How did it happen to Whitehead?" said Innes.
"We don't know," said Bailey, helping the man to beans. "Crawford just brought him back over his horse with his neck broke and said he found him out in the brush that way."
"How did it happen?" Innes asked Crawford.
"There was eleven shots gone from Whitehead's carbine," said Quartel.