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I never liked Big Grim; pimps are all sons of bitches. Normally I stayed out of the Red Circle unless I needed a whore. But one whore was lying dead in her room and Lock had to open his fool mouth.
Texas is no place for damn idiots, like a man who don't carry a gun in a shithole like Bakerstown. We two only came here January, and now April was thundering down outside the whorehouse, and the tin star shone brand-new on Lock's vest, and nobody knew us here, and Lock didn't carry a gun.
A dead whore could be anything – too much opium, a dirty needle, bad batch of saloon lightning. But Lock just had to look, and found a sidewinder under Julie's bed. I backed off as it slithered out; goddamn biggest rattlesnake I ever seen in Texas, silent as the grave, rattler cut off.
Lock looked up at Grim. "Murderer."
"Goddamn pipsqueak sheriff I'll goddamn break you in two." Grim's eyes were a grizzly's eyes as he raised his hands.
That's when I grabbed that snake and hove it at Grim. All three of us were shocked at me. Then Grim dropped dead, I shot the snake's head off, and Lock cussed me out.
But nobody bothers Sheriff Lock now. And that's how I got these boots.