"I took after a gent once. He couldn't hit me, but he put a slug through Molly."
"What became of the gent?" asked the sheriff still more softly.
"He died just a little later. Just how I ain't prepared to state."
"Good!" said the sheriff. He actually smiled in the pleasure of newfound kinship. "You and me would get on proper, Sinclair."
"Most like."
"This hoss of mine, now, has sense enough to take me home without me touching a rein. Knows direction like a wolf."
"Could you guide her with your knees?"
"Sure."
"And she's plumb safe with you?"
"Sure."