“HEY LOOK, FELLA….”
“Calm down, yer drunk…”
Chairs and the table go crashin’ as the two men stand quickly. Other folks in the small saloon scatter ‘n one of the girls screams.
The loser wasn’t fast enough. He’d tried to flip the loop off’n his hammer but found himself starin’ at the stubby barrel of a Sheriff’s model held rock-still by an ex-law man.
“Ya know, ya should ah left when the others did. Put the table back on its legs, pick up the pot, put it on the table then get yer stinkin’ ass out of here!”
“Tinhorns don’t go long in this place, Mister.”
“Quit talkin’ ‘n keep pickin’ up money. I didn’t play yer cards er make yer bets. Ya lost it all by yerself.”
“But, ain’t by myself here. I got pards. Yer gonna see.”
“Ya don’t shut up, get done ‘n get out, yer gonna see some what passed before ya real soon.”
With that, the cowboy slams a stack of bills on the table then turns and leaves.
The new man in town folds the money and puts it in his pocket the walks to the bar.
“A bottle of what ya have, sir.”
“Ya got business here?
“Maybe.”
“Gottah name?”
“Maybe.”
The bottle and money changes hands and a tired man walks thru the saloon ‘n out the batwings. Droppin’ the bottle in his coat pocket, he pulls a tin ‘n gets a cigarette thens heads for the hotel.
“Evenin’, sir.”
“Evening. The room in the corner, second floor. Open?
“Why, yes.”
“I’ll take it day ta day. Bath tub in here?
“Just down from the kitchen, sir. Close to the hot water.
“Here are the keys, #23, sir. Your payment is in order.
“The register, please sir. Please sign the register.”
*ARCEY*
“Full name, please.”
“That’s as full as it gets……………………”