W. C. Tuttle

“ Ben made a few marks in the sand with a lean forefinger.
“Had a reason t’ come in early, Buck. Some of the boys said it wouldn’t do no good, but I thought I’d tell you how it was. ’Long about an hour from now Bud Hickman will ride in. He’ll have his gang with him and they’ll imbibe real freely. Mebbe ’long about that same time Pete Asher’ll ride in with his gang. They’ll also imbibe freely, and some of ’em will likely get kinda drunk. The boys are all thirsty, you know. I expect it’ll be kinda wooly around here t’night, Buck.” ”

“ I don’t think for a minute that this Smith girl would care to have you killin’ each other over her. Most girls don’t. Anyway, it was a sucker idea, because there ain’t no Smith girl around here any more; so you was tryin’ to kill each other for nothin’.”
“What do you mean?” blurted Bud.
“The Smiths ain’t moved away,” offered a cowboy. ”

“ I’ve already collected from the Tumblin’ K.”
“You’ve collected from Bud Hickman?”
“Why not?”
“Oh, I jist wondered. But suppose we don’t give you our guns?”
The sheriff considered Pete calmly. Then:
“I’ve allus liked you, Asher. You’ve been a damn’ fool in lotsa ways, but you’re jist human like the rest of us. I’ve posted my notice, and I wrote it myself.”
“But jist suppose we refuse to give up our guns?”
“That,” said the sheriff calmly, “would be jist too damn’ bad.”
“Oh—” softly—“and if I should happen to want to leave town, you’d give me back my gun?”
“Jist like the sign says, Pete.” ”

“ Bud and Pete were closing the gap between them, closing it slowly, each waiting for the other to make the first move with a gun. They were only a hundred feet apart now. It was close enough. But neither of them made a move to lift his gun.
Ninety feet; thirty yards. Either of them could hit a tomato can at that distance. Eighty feet! Horses walking slowly, Seventy feet; sixty feet. Twenty yards now. They were almost in front of the sheriff’s office. Ben laughed foolishly. It would be a double funeral. He had seen Bud shoot the head from a prairie dog at that distance. ”

“ Several cowboys were standing in front of the Prospect Saloon now, and one of them essayed a clog dance. His boots sounded loud on the old wooden sidewalk. Another beat time on a porch post with the end of a quirt. ”