An' there ain't anything between you an' the coyotes!" "Only you, Dale," said Sanderson.

His voice was still gentle, still drawling.

But into it had come a note that made Dale's face turn pale and caused the bodies of the men in the group to stiffen.
"Only you, Dale," Sanderson repeated.

His right hand was at his hip, resting lightly on the butt of the six-shooter that reposed in its holster.
"I've always wanted to test the idea of whether a crook like you thought more of what he was doin' than he did of his own life.

This gun leather of mine is kind of short at the top--if you'll notice.