"You wouldn't do it here. This is a patented town. I got important people behind me. The authorities will protect me."
"You're rushing things," Tesno said. "I haven't hired out yet."
"You will," Pinky said. "Vickers will meet your price and you'll hire on. I hope you do. You've been riding for a fall for a long time."
The bloodshot eyes shifted briefly. Tesno was aware of a man standing a few feet to his left. He turned slowly and saw a lean, dark-eyed young man dressed to present the general aspect of a barber pole. He wore black boots, trousers, and hat, and a silk shirt with wide pink stripes. The ivory handle of a revolver curved out from his hip like a misplaced tusk. A badge gleamed on his chest. He took a step forward, right hand resting on gun handle.
"You can't wear a gun in this town, cowboy," he said sternly.
Tesno squarely turned his back and picked up his drink. Pinky Bronklin looked faintly amused now.
"This here is town marshal Pete Madrid," Pinky said. "Meet Jack Tesno, Pete. The famous bully-boy."
"I don't care who he is," Pete Madrid said with an ugly purr in his voice. "He's got ten seconds to shuck that gun."
Tesno tossed down his drink and set the glass on the bar. "Town ordinance?"
"You might say so. Five seconds, cowboy."