"Did Chico throw you? No—there's blood."
"Sit down, Don Raul," said Manuel, helping him.
"Not bad," said Raul.
"Sit here," said Lucienne, pulling up a chair.
Raul felt around for the chair. Dimly, he made out Lucienne; then, as strength returned, as he drank water, he saw her, her auburn hair, her look of concern. She touched him and at the same time he received a shock for there, at his feet, sat Mona, Caterina's fuzzy dog, tongue lolling. She barked happily; the bullet pain dug deeper; he tried to rise.
"Please sit down, Raul," said Lucienne, restraining him. "Jesús Peza is here. He can help you. Marta, run for Jesús."
Marta, a pigtailed girl, Lucienne's maid, dashed out of the living room, with Mona at her heels.
Raul fought his dizziness and tugged at his belt.
"Drink this," said Lucienne.
Someone had brought tequila.