His voice sounded hard.
"Oh, 'bout as frequent as yu lose a cayuse, I reckon," replied Jimmy hotly.
Shorty's hand streaked to his holster and Jimmy followed his lead.
Jimmy's Colt was caught.

He had bucked too much.

As he fell Shorty ran for the Houston House.
Pistol shots were common, for they were the universal method of expressing emotions.

The poker players grinned, thinking their victim was letting off his indignation.

Lanky sized up his hand and remarked half audibly, "He's a shore good kid." The bartender, fearing for his new beveled, gilt-framed mirror, gave a hasty glance out the window.