‘You rich gringos can pick and choose your misery. I never wanted to live this way.’

Jesus Helguera “I used to think about him a lot when I was really low down. You know, your money and Sal is what saved me.”
“Was it?”
“She used to take care of me. One day I looked at her and told her I didn’t want to live this way anymore. You know what she said to me?”
“What?”
“She laughed and said, ‘You rich gringos can pick and choose your misery.’ She said, ‘I never wanted to live this way.’” He grinned at his father. “She’d just turned seventeen, wise beyond her years. She’s always been so much wiser than me, than anyone else I’ve ever known.”
“Out of the mouth of babes, eh, son?”
“Yep. And then I got my ass cleaned up and Sal and I took the money you sent me and we came here. No one knew what we were in San Francisco, at least not initially, and no one knew about Sal. She worked and worked and saved and took care of me to keep me on the straight and narrow, and, well, even though I’d drink a bottle of laudanum right now, I don’t do it.” He laughed cynically.
They sat a while and said nothing. Finally, Michael looked over at his father. He was an old man. He was old beyond his years and Michael knew that part of that age was his fault. He finally spoke, “I’m not so sure you’re the ass that you paint yourself to be.”
“No?” Dick blew smoke at the street.
“No. Arvel told me about how much nicer you were than you let on. How you were the one who often held him back. I never used to believe it, but now I do. You aren’t as much the hard case as you’d like to think.” He laughed again. “He told me about how good you always were to Mexicans and Chinese and Negroes and how you changed your tune with his wife. He said you’d talk a big game but your actions never did match your words.” He grinned broader. “The old coot couldn’t keep his eyes off my Sal, by the way. He sure has a weakness for these Mexican gals.” The Mule Tamer II, Chica's Ride