snarling for the first time. You could tell it was almost over for the little pit virgin. His one leg was
dangling like it was broken and his throat was spilling blood.
“I?m leaving,” I said to Nesbitt. “When do you want to leave town?”
“An hour ago.”
“Okay, I?ll see what I can do. I mean, I?ll do the best I can. I don?t know what the hell you gave me
for this, but I?ll talk to somebody and that somebody?ll talk to somebody else and we?ll get it together.
It may be tomorrow morning before I can swing it. You got a place to flop?”
“Yeah. Early tomorrow, huh?”
“You call me first thing.”
“Seven be okay?”
“Doesn?t anybody in this town sleep past dawn?” I said.
But his attention was already back on the dogs. As I started down the tiers toward the door, the referee
stepped in and ended the fight.
The little hog dog was finished. He dragged himself by one good leg toward his master and collapsed
in the dirt, his tail wagging feebly. He looked up pitifully at his owner.
I turned away again and didn?t see the owner take a .38 out of his belt and hold it down between the
hog dog?s eyes.
The shot startled me. I whirled around and drew my Magnum without thinking. It took me a second or
two before I got the gun back out of sight.
Too late.
The giant at the door saw the move. As I got outside I heard his deep voice drawl, “Hey, boy.”
I kept walking. I walked straight toward Longnose Craves? limo.
“Hey, you with that hotshot pistol. Talkin? to you, boy.”
I stopped a few feet from the limo and turned around. Two friends had joined him. Just as big and just
as ugly.
“Want something?” I asked in the toughest voice I could dredge up.
“That was some kind of move there inside,” the giant said. “Like the old O.K. Corral.”
“It?s a nervous tic,” I said. “Happens all the time.”
“You needa get it fixed.”
“I?ll keep it in mind.”
He moved closer.
“The only firearms we „low hereabouts go with the house,” he said.
“I was just leaving.”
