Pushing through the filthy half doors of the saloon, the churlish gunslinger sidled up next to the lawman. He assumed he was not an outlaw from the frontier like himself, since he wore a rusty star on his leather vest.
“I see you’re the law in these parts” as he ordered the barman to pour whiskey and asked if there were any victuals handy. “I’ve been raising a mighty thirst the past few days, with nothing to drink but cactus juice.” The stranger downed two large shots of whisky and slammed the glass down on the sticky wood. “You can say what you want about fancy wines, but when there’s no water in your canteen, cactus juice is dang tasty!”
The sheriff showed no interest in the stranger, so he moved on to a table in the corner. “Not too friendly here” he commented as he removed his spurs, hung them and his lasso on the chair beside him. Searching the room for a friendly face, he spied a fresh faced wannabe gambler.
“How about some poker?”