Raymond S. Spears

“ Outside Rearing Bill raced, plunging to the swayback drayhorse, and he rode furiously away in the dark, heading up Snake Creek.
When he was out of hearing, his nervous yelps lost away in the Bad Land distance, the crowd came back into Squint Legere’s barroom to see what miracle had changed the echo of Rearing Bill’s whoops. They found the other stranger, Benson, unloading Rearing Bill’s revolver of the yellow stained ivory handles. Bystanders whispered excitedly at what this fellow had done, barehanded, right after calling Rearing Bill a skunk. ”

“ For an instant Rearing Bill stared and glared; then he began to grin as he surged at the victim thus thrown in his way. Odd Jobbing Det backed till he was stopped by the wall. Then Rearing Bill cuffed and kicked, abusing the wretched weakling, who blubbered, whimpered, choked and begged. The more he pleaded for mercy the more the bully slapped and poked him with the big revolver.
“I’ve a notion to kill you,” Rearing Bill suggested tentatively, “’sultin’ me thataway. I’ve a notion to cut yer heart out an’ eat it! I’ve a notion to shoot ye—’sultin’ me. Me—bumping into me—walkin’ all over me. ”

“ Swing doors were flashing to the shadows of ingoing or outgoing figures. As he looked around, the big fellow caught flashes of sparkling points, the eyes of humans, shining in the gloom like those of dogs or cats, some green, some golden, some purple. ”

“ And he had a drink after each half completed movement. Then suddenly he pulled and let go a shot. He looked around. The bartenders stood with their hands lifted, like squirrels’ paws, and other patrons of the place were skittering without dignity out of the way, drawing toward the front and rear entrances through which the ones who always avoided trouble vanished like mist cloud shadows. The big fellow took some more drinks, and at intervals in a tentative kind of way he let go a booming shot. ”

“ But, like a cat playing with a victim Rearing Bill deliberately delayed. Here was a worthless, terror stricken, utterly helpless and friendless victim. Odd Jobbing Det looked his sorry misery and his voice went up in a shrill breaking wail of hopeless terror, for he felt the drunken brute’s determination to “get a man”, establishing a reputation as bad, killing to see a victim kick. ”

“ An old veteran shook his head.
“’Tain’t old Mississip’ shanty boat landing whoop er soundin’ hail.”
“Ner mule skinnin’ cowboy—none of them!” another declared.
“That’s green timber!” a square shouldered, high headed man remarked as he turned a sheet of a weekly paper in the lobby of Squint Legere’s hotel.
“My lan’! He’s bad!” A bystander shook his head. “Y’ c’n tell that—the way he growls— My lan’!” ”