Luneshale Pass [m] es la otra mano

Juárez had carried off with a woman. The hound could tell she was new, still had grizzle in her. That'd fail as soon as the dependence kicked in. He eyed their retreat like a man starved. Jowls flat with desire. Maybe he’d get a go at her later.
The boy grunts, rounding back to Soto. Man seems deceptively calm, but Niño knows he turns on a dime like a scorpion.
“El alijo,” tongue tucked against teeth, he speculated idly on if the brothers brought what they had from Guanajuato, or if they’d ganged up with a local supplier. Not the dog’s business either way. He shifted his weight on his paws and listened for Soto's order.