Call saw that everyone was looking at him, the hands and cowboys and townspeople alike. The anger had drained out of him, leaving him feeling tired. He didn't remember the fight, particularly, but people were looking at him as if they were stunned. He felt he should make some explanation, though it seemed to him a simple situation. "I hate a man that talks rude," he said. "I won't tolerate it.

I suppose you set up reading the Good Book all night-spoken by Woodrow Call

... people are always turning out to be tougher than I think they are.

Yesterday's gone on down the river and you can't get it back.

The older the violin, the sweeter the music.

Anyway, whacking a surly bartender ain't much of a crime.

Nothing good ever comes without a price.