Last time I see'd Ol' Hank he skedaddled out the Prairie Horseshoe Saloon door pluckin' buckshot outta the seat of his britches. Maybe that'll learn the ol' coot not to jam his schnoz in where the oversized honker don't belong.

We trailed cattle three hundred miles up into Kansas when I sent the boys into town to let off steam. Me, and Tommy Gray, my half-growed young hand, loped in behind 'em. I figgered they'd go for the saloon.

I'd warned 'em, "Cowtowns is full of thieves and drunks."

We needed provisions. I pulled an inventory I'd made out of my saddlebag. While I entered the General Store to look over their dry goods, Tommy meandered down the dusty street and looked in the windows of buildings he passed. Tommy felt shy 'bout enterin' any. Been awhile since the sprout had.

Mouth agape, Tommy gawked at the buffalo rifles and long barrels he see'd in the windows of stores he passed by. Fourteen, he longed fer a six-shooter of his own. They was all outta his price range.

A gang of riders approached Tommy as I come outta the door in search of a good bottle of whiskey to wash the trail dust outta my piehole. I'd send the wagon fer the supplies later. Tommy's roan, Storm, nickered at the post where he was tied and Tommy run toward him

The sound caught my ear. I looked that direction. Their leader, Ol' Hank, had his eye on Storm. Hank was a big heifer. He almost run Tommy down with his bay and said, "I'll take that horse, boy!"

Ol' Hank weren't but two bits of no account t-r-o-u-b-l-e! We'd crossed paths up and down the Plains from Omaha to Fort Worth and lots of nowhere towns between.

"Ya can't have him, mister!" Tommy replied.

Ol' Hank laughed, "Well, ain't you a wildcat? Now, hand me them reins and I'll be on my way."

Tommy did not move. Ol' Hank lashed him on top of his noggin with the butt of his .45. "I said, NOW!"

Tommy slid to the street. Blood poured from a gash on his head and stained his cornsilk hair. Ol' Hank reholstered his gun, then reached again fer Storm.

"That'll teach you, you young whippersnapper, to sass me!" He told Tommy as he undone Storm's girth.

I see'd Ol' Hank strike Tommy, but he weren't takin' Storm. I run at Hank and yanked 'im off his mount. When he looked up, my boot come fer his eye.

"You wouldn't!" Ol' Hank screeched.

I kicked Hank so hard I thought his head would fly off. He spat out blood and teeth, then tried to struggle to his feet.

"He's gonna kill him!" Someone yelled.

I jerked Ol' Hank up by the collar. Right cross. Left hook. Kick to the guts. The fight ended up in front of the saloon. Ol' Hank flewed through the glass window of the cantina. I followed 'im in. A shot rang out.

You asked me when the last time I see'd Ol' Hank? I done tolt ya, he skedaddled out the saloon door fast as his two fat feet could carry him pluckin' buckshot outta the seat of his britches.

Me, Tommy, and the boys? Soon as the town sawbones patched up my sidekick we collected our supplies from the General Store and hit the trail once more.

And, that's the last time I see'd Ol' Hank.