but a selfish egotist . . . so go!
TAKE ANY TRAIL
After his guests had departed to the south, he sat on his stoop in the dusk with foul-smelling pipe and worse-smelling dog, and he was more honest.
“Seems to me, Ugly, the marshal had somethin’ in mind when he brung that little gal all the way down from Texas, chasin’ after his brother. Don’t you see?”
The dog cocked its head and looked at him. Roscoe rubbed its ears as he gazed into the night.
“Sure you do,” he went on in that same thoughtful way. “The marshal’s gone after his brother before but never got anywhere near him. So this time he’s brought bait.” He took his pipe from his mouth and pointed into the distance. “That’s what she is, that little girl, nothin’ but a temptin’ chunk of bait to draw old Rafe to the hook like a trout.”
The dog shook its head. It was covered in fleas. But Roscoe preferred to take it as a sign of agreement.
He looked grave as he sucked on his pipe and leaned back in his rocker.
“And you know what happens to bait when you go fishin’, Ugly . . .”