He whirled it with tempting carelessness, butt first, muzzle first, his discolored teeth set in a yellow grin. The breath of the spectators vented in a sigh.
“Haow’ll yu take it, Mister?” he gibed. “I could l’arn an old caow to beat yu on the draw. Aw, shucks! I ’laow yu’d better go back to yore pasteboards. Naow git!”
Montoyo, his eyes steady, scarcely changed expression. He let his revolver slip down into its scabbard. Then he smiled.
“You have a pretty trick,” he commented, relaxing. “Some day I’d like to test it out again. Just now I pass. Madam, are you coming?”
“You know I’m not,” she uttered clearly.
“Your choice of company is hardly to your credit,” he sneered. “Or, I should say, to your education. Saintliness does not set well upon you, madam. Your clothes are ill-fitting already. Of your two champions——” 188
And here I realized that I was standing out, one foot advanced, my fists foolishly doubled, my presence a useless factor.
“—I recommend the gentleman from New York as more to your tastes. But you are going of your own free will. You will always be my wife. You can’t get away from that, you devil. I shall expect you in Benton, for I have the hunch that your little flight will fetch you back pretty well tamed, to the place where damaged goods are not so heavily discounted.” He ignored Daniel and turned upon me. “As for you,” he said, “I warn you you are playing against a marked deck. You will find fists a poor hand. Ladies and gentlemen, good-morning.” With that he strode straight for his horse, climbed aboard (a trifle awkwardly by reason of his one arm disabled) and galloped, granting us not another glance.
Card shark and desperado that he was, his consummate aplomb nobody could deny, except Daniel, now capering and swaggering and twirling his revolver.
“I showed him. I made him take water. I ’laow I’m ’bout the best man with a six-shooter in these hyar parts.”