He halted where he was and squinted up at the man, and spat fluid tobacco and grinned.
"You're here, and you're able to kick about my drivin'.

That's purty good luck, I'd say.

You _ain't_ shot, an' you ain't layin' busted in no canyon.
Any time a man gits shot outa Casey Ryan's stage, he'll have to jump out an' wait for the bullet to ketch up.

And there ain't any passengers offn' this stage layin' busted in no canyon, neither.

I bring in what I start out with." The other man snorted and reached under his coat tail for the solacing plug of chewing tobacco.