They piled their weapons on the bar. I didn’t blame them. This thing in my hands would have mangled them plenty!
“After this, when you come to Corkscrew, put your guns out of sight.”
Fat Bardell pushed through them, putting joviality back on his face.
“Will you tuck these guns away until your customers are ready to leave town?” I asked him.
“Yes! Yes! Be glad to!” he exclaimed when he had got over his surprise.
I returned the shotgun to its owner and went up to the Canyon House.
A door just a room or two from mine opened as I walked down the hall. Chick Orr came out, saying:
“Don’t do nothin’ I wouldn’t do,” over his shoulder.
I saw Clio Landes standing inside the door.
Chick turned from the door, saw me, and stopped, scowling at me.
“You can’t fight worth a damn!” he said. “All you know is how to hit!”
“That’s right.”
He rubbed a swollen hand over his belly.
“I never could learn to take ’em down there. That’s what beat me in the profesh.”
I tried to look sympathetic, while he studied my face carefully.
“I messed you up, for a fact.” His scowl curved up in a gold-toothed grin. The grin went away. The scowl came back. “Don’t pick no more fights with me—I might hurt you!”