“Oh, by the way, gringo, I am no’ a squaw, I am Mexicana. You might wanna change your sign,”

Jesus Helguera “How much is all of that, gringo?”
“Don’t, don’t worry ‘bout it. Take ‘em… as a gift.”
“No, gringo, we are not robbing you, just making a good trade, we will pay for the bullets.” She peeled off a few bills and put the rest in her pocket.
She sent the Indians on their way and stepped away from the dealer, who got up slowly and sat back down at the card table. Chica looked at them and smiled. “Oh, by the way, gringo, I am no’ a squaw, I am Mexicana. You might wanna change your sign,” she pulled the handwritten placard from the doorway, and threw it at the bar. It read, “No Indians allowed.” The Mule Tamer