“Well, my friend, it looks as though finis has been written for the Shame of Arizona,” remarked Judge.
Henry drew a deep breath, flexed his tired hands, and said, “Judge, a Conroy always goes down fighting.”
“Against whom—if I may ask, sir?”
“My opponent has not been selected yet.”
“And today—they hold that meeting. The time is short, sir.”
“Aye, my friend—but not too short. We must sleep on it.”
Someone knocked timidly on their door, and Henry said, “Come in.”
It was Slim Pickins, who announced, “We’ve decided to stay here t’night, Henry.”
“You have? And why, if I may ask, Slim?”
“Yuh see,” explained Slim, “Oscar was drivin’, and he knocked the left front wheel off the buckboard against the sidewalk.”