“Up to now, I bin as peaceful a kid as ever follered a long-horned steer. I’ve done got outa the notion, almost, uh shootin’ up this greaser. I’ve done met up with fellers, as the years passes and I gits rings around my horns, that tells me as how paw was or’nary mean when he’s lickered and the Sanchez gent has done no more than right when he’s kills him off. I’m beginnin’ tuh think that mebbeso I’m not bound and beholdin’ tuh down this Sanchez after all. Right’s right and wrongs no man, thinks I, and if paw had it comin’, he done got it and jack-pot’s played and won. So yuh see I ain’t noways huntin’ no trouble ner makin’ no play tuh hunt down this greaser feller. It jest pops up sudden.
“There I stands, a awkward, long-legged, high-withered ol’ kid, and I’m lookin’ into the wickedest pair uh snake eyes that I ever seen. His lips is kinda smilin’ but the smile don’t go higher than his black mustache which is twisted to sharp points. Sudden like, I recollects a-holdin’ of my daddy’s head and wipin’ that sickish lookin’ pink froth from his mouth so’s he kin talk. Somehow, my gun has got into my hand and I’m coverin’ this snake-eyed killer.
“‘I come tuh kill yuh, Sanchez,’ I says, and my voice sounds weak and unconvincin’ as ——.
“‘So?’ says Sanchez, laughin’ short and nasty, like I’d sprung a josh on him. ‘I wish yuh luck, sonny.’ And with that he goes right on dealin’ like he’s clean fergot I’m there.
“If he’d a knocked the gun outa my hand, er slapped me alongside the jaw, I could uh waded in and done battle. But he’s treatin’ me like I was a yearlin’ kid a-packin’ of a pea gun. I feels my face go hot like I was settin’ over a fire. My hands is cold as ice and bigger’n snowshoes. The barrel uh my gun is rattlin’ on the edge uh the table, I’m that shaky. Wust of all, a kinda blurry look looms up in my eyes and I know it’s tears. Man, it was jest nacherally ——!
“The crowd snickers and grins. A Mex vaquero makes a funny crack and his friends giggles. Sanchez, holdin’ his head kinda sideways tuh keep the smoke uh his cigaret outa his eyes, goes on dealin’ without lookin’ up, payin’ bets and rakin’ in chips uh them that loses.
“Somehow, I makes it across to the door, dizzy and all sickish inside me like a kid that’s swallered a chaw uh terbaccer. It ain’t till I gits out into the dark and sets down on a empty beer keg, that I finds that I’m still holdin’ my gun in my hand.
“Fust off, I starts tuh th’ow that —— gun as fur as I kin sling it. Then I gits a idee. I’m goin’ tuh lay out there in the dark till this Sanchez comes out. Then I’ll down him. I ketches myse’f talkin’ out loud like a loco sheep herder and tears is runnin’ like cricks down inside my shirt collar.
“I wipes off the tears, blows my nose and takes a chaw uh line-cut tuh make me feel more like a man. Then, squattin’ in the shadow near the door, I cocks my gun and waits fer Sanchez tuh come out fer his midnight lunch, which I knows most dealers does.
“Sudden like, there’s a noise behind me. I swings around, startled sorter.