Honor and Glory? You’re kiddin’, it’s . . .
JUST FOR THE MONEY
About all that could be said for the demise of Milway Sheed was that at least he didn’t suffer. After he hit bottom, that was.
Realizing what she’d done, the woman leaned over the wall and stared down in ashen-faced horror. East was back on his feet, but could see two Mexican spitfires now, and he didn’t like the look of either one of them.
“Thanks for the help,” he said thickly, scooping up his hat. He had lost his cigar butt and took another from his pocket. He glared ferociously at the white-faced people gaping from the café doorway. “Well, don’t just stand there, send for the undertaker.” He paused, glanced over the wall and added, “And tell him to bring a shovel.”
This brought the woman out of her silence.
“Monster! Murderer!” She searched for the ultimate epithet. “Gringo! You will hang for this!”
“Worse’n that,” East grunted. “I could lose my job.”