I ain’t hankerin’ to wind up as
strips of jerky dryin’ out in the sun!
SHOOT FROM THE HIP
“Just set mighty still,” the raider cautioned, “and it could be that you’ll get out of this with a whole hide! Don’t be crazy enough to try anythin’, or he’ll kill you, nothin’ surer! That’s Garth Kotzur. Maybe you ain’t heard about him afore this, but by hell, the whole damn country’s gonna hear about him now! So, are you gonna behave?”
The driver looked past the horseman and saw the outlaw hauling the dazed passengers out in the open, with the help of another of his cohorts. He nodded slowly.
“I ain’t hankerin’ to wind up as strips of jerky dryin’ out in the sun, mister.”
The driver winced as the man called Kotzur apparently lost patience and threw a semiconscious passenger roughly to the ground, where the man lay there sobbing and groaning. The woman was still screaming inside the wrecked compartment, although there was nothing now to stop her from climbing out. The dark-haired man looked down at her and bawled;
“Quit yer caterwaulin’!”
She only screamed louder when she saw his masked face. Without another word, he silenced her with a bullet.