Conversation at the bar changed; postures altered. The blanket of background noise in the saloon distorted slightly, becoming a barbed intertwining of jagged sounds. Loud voices became more reserved, faces darkened, lips closed, hands moved from open-palmed and reaching out to take up sentry at their side, closer to their holster. Some faces looked around, concerned.
None of this happened to those who knew Mickey well. But it did happen to those who knew him only by name. And to the two strangers, and the third man who stood with them. And to Eddie Sherman who stood close by.
Neville Hunt about 2 years ago
I’m ready to go fer ma gun any times now meself!