It were like any typical Sundy afternoon in That Yellow Bastard Saloon. John Eastwood and Clint Wayne were in they usual spot in the corner, takin' shots and swappin' ol' war stories; Johnson the Birdfucker was curled up in a bottle at the back table, weepin' somethin' fierce; Glass-Eye Joe was next to me at the bar, talkin' the ear off of Old Man Board, the barkeep and owner of the establishment; and Johnny Three-Thumbs had just started up a game of Bid Whist, deuces wild, with ol' Scruffy and that strange fella what had just rolled into town that mornin'… called himself the Tijuana Kid.
Well Johnny had just dealt a new hand when I seen the Kid pulled a baccarat on the flop, an' I'm thinkin' it looks a little fishy, see, so I start to watch him a mite closer, and sure 'nuff he done gone an' slipped a pair a' snake-eyes up his sleeve.
Now normally I wouldn't mind seein' Johnny get hustled a bit - that boy could stand t'be taken down a peg er two - but he owes me money an' I happen to know he blew all his pay from the last bit of work he got - which wadn't a little while ago if'n ya get my meaning - anyway, he done gone and spent it all tryin'a impress some young piece of fluff who up went an' skedaddled soon as he ran out of gifts for her.
So seein' as I got somethin' ridin' on Johnny t'day, I goes up to him and tell 'im what I done seen that Tijuana feller done did.
well Johnny, he goes off faster'n a soldier wit a twenny-dollar whore, knockin' over tables and yellin' like a maniac. The Kid makes a dash fer the door, but Johnny grabs 'is chair an' bashes the Kid right upside 'is head. Put 'im out cold, or so I thought.
I see Scruffy tryin' ta back away from the fight, an' he ends up backin' right inta Clint an' John's table, knockin' their bottle a pop-skull onta the floor. John Eastwood gets up an' belts Scruffy right in the jaw fer wastin' good whiskey, an' ol' Clint, I think the excitement got to 'im, cuz he started shoutin' and flailin' about, babblin' sum'n 'bout The Alamo an' all like he does.
Roun' about this time I think it was that Glass-Eye Joe comes up behin'
me an' drops his bottle on my head, an' I meant to turn aroun' an' ask
'im all civil-like why it was he would'a gone and done a thing like
that, an' my arm just sorta kep on' an' followed through, as it was, an'
Joe, he took it personal, y'know.
I don't rightly remember what happened after that, bein' caught up in
the moment like I was, an' you know how these things just sorta grow on
'emselves. But you kin see it tweren't me what started the fight, can't
you Shurriff? I really didn't have nuthin' to do wit it, if'n you see, I
were nuthin' but a inn'sent bystander. Kin I go now?
