“Paper money, how many times must I say it, is just the same as gold. Especially American dollars.”

Marta suddenly glided into the room, ubiquitous cigarette between her lips. She’d heard that the old man was shot and hoped to find him dead. She spoke firmly to the old man and the clown man standing beside him.
“It isn’t her fault.”
She helped Rebecca up and sent her to her room.
“Leave her alone.”
She began looking over Gold Hat’s wound. “It’s not so bad. The wound is clean and the bullet came out. You now have two extra holes in your ass, that’s all.”
The clown man chuckled. Marta looked at him with disdain. “Counting him,” she pointed her cigarette at the clown man, “you now have four assholes.”
Rebecca suppressed a laugh. Despite the rough handling and the shaking inside, she could not help finding Marta’s remark very funny. She was glad the girl had shown up when she had. She quickly obeyed when Marta ordered her back into her room. She thought certain she was in for a beating and the little bandit had come to her rescue.
Once Rebecca was safely out of reach, Marta inquired about the meeting with the American. The clown man spoke as he watched his maestro bleed.
“You missed getting thirty thousand American dollars?” She blew smoke at her father’s fat face.
The clown man spoke up, “plus ninety thousand.”
“One hundred and twenty thousand American dollars?”
Gold Hat refused to look at the girl. He harrumphed and looked at the canvas ceiling of the tent. “It was just paper, and no more than an empty promise for the rest.”
“You stupid son of a bitch.” She looked at him with contempt. “Paper money, how many times must I say it, is just the same as gold. Especially American dollars.” The Mule Tamer II, Chica's Ride
Image source ~ Low Rider Arte Magazine