Lefty had always been the quiet one. He never complained when it came time for him to ride drag. He never said a word when Cookie served beans and fatback for supper 40 days in a row. Come rain, shine, dust, or mud, Lefty just took it all in stride.

A bunch of us went looking for whiskey in a little town called Trailside. The beeves were bedded down and watered and we needed to go somewhere, anywhere that the sound and stink of cattle wasn’t. Lefty rode along with us.

Coming near to the end of a night of drinking and forgetting our troubles, one of the townies picked a fight with Lefty. He told Lefty, “Your mother must have been really ugly to have had a cowboy ugly as you.”

Lefty turned around to face the guy and looked him dead in the eyes and said nothing. Out of panic or fear, the guy drew his hogleg and Lefty shot him dead.

It was a pure case of self defense, but they hung Lefty anyhow.

We went back to camp and got our Winchesters. Now we’re heading back to Trailside.

Somebody’s gonna pay.