Given time, you’ll make a damn fine outlaw, Deputy!
WEB OF GUNSMOKE
“It’s him, I tell you,” Ed Tatum grated harshly. “He’s still wearin’ the goddamn sling where I nicked him. It’s that deputy.”
“He hasn’t recognized us.” Drew Lufkin hid the lower half of his face behind his hand. “We could take him, Ed. Between us we could blow him into the next county.”
“We could, but I figure we’d best wait.” Tatum turned his head away and focused his gaze on a smoke-stained mural on the wall by the end of the bar. “You see who he’s talkin’ with? That cattle buyer . . . and Coleman ain’t real fussy just whose cattle he buys — as both of us damn well know.”
Lufkin’s eyes narrowed. “What do you figure they’re up to?” He slid the words out of the side of his mouth. “What would a deputy want with a crooked cattle buyer?”