"I want to make money and visit with real whores. As the teamster said, life's short." Fred gulped his last drink and down the road they went.
Quiet, almost sweet, music played somewhere within the gaming hall.
"Oh, no you won't! Don't be such a prig. Play one hand," Fred urged him.
Buck had just a small amount of money saved from pawning his things and planned on buying Thankful a household trinket for her wedding, but if she was moving home there would be no point, he reasoned. Buck didn't mind cards but hesitated.
"Say, Buck, you might win some money for the poor. Look, whatever you win tonight, I'll match it and we'll do a good deed with it," Fred suggested. He pushed Buck along and sauntered in with a big smile.
"Oh, damn, the apostle is here with a friend," someone said through the smoky haze.
The men laughed at Fred's bravado and made room when he flashed his money. Buck, more tentatively, placed his small savings on the table.
"A fellow in there says there's a place down the road we could spend the night cheap," Fred said.
"Yep. Follow me, Apostle." Fred whistled.
Buck cursed under his breath but followed with hands shoved deep into his empty pockets.
They came upon a ruin of an adobe building with a sooty candle-lit window at the side and a falling-down, rotted door at the front. "What's this place?" Buck's stomach churned.
"It's cozy in a way," Fred said flashing a charming smile before knocking.
"Mr. Beadle sent me this way. You open?" Fred asked.
"It's a dollar a poke—extra for anything else," the woman said.
Each of them weak in their own ways.