Well well well. What have we got here? A Brave?
/spits on floor
We’ll see about that.
Now when this here fella thinks of the word “brave”, he don’t envision no one calling himself it. No sir. In these parts brave is in the way a man acts, the way he raises his kinfolk, how he lives his life. Bravery ain’t some kind of empty sentiment meant to keep the kids cozy when they lay their heads down at night.
When you walk into a saloon with two in the chamber and none in your boots- that’s brave. When you ride out into the night seeking justice knowing that sun ain’t coming up for hours- that’s brave. Writing a word on your chest ain’t but tearin’ some pricks out of a cactus and calling it a chair. I ain’t sittin in your chair, chief. And damned if I don’t say you’re dang cocky for what amounts to a starving pilgrim.
That’s why the Sheriff had to take action last night, ridin in on a colt and a cambio, and lay waste to your little fairy tale. Sub-4.00 earned run style, with the strength of a pent-up steed and the abandon of a Cherokee guided by the Great Thunder.
Keep an eye out. Cause the Sheriff is back in town.