Trouble with you is, you don't smile enough.

Dunton Francis nodded and grinned wider. “So, you’re really callin’ me a Nancy, is that right?”

“Ain’t callin’ you nothin’. Just saying, a man who smiles all the time . . . don’t know.”

Francis walked up behind him, causing the fellow to crane his neck to see what the lawman was up to.

“Well, ya are. I ain’t no kid or woman, that’s clear, only thing’s left is a Nancy. So, I think ya are callin’ me such.”

“Take it as you will.” The man spoke with progressively less enthusiasm. Privy digging was on his mind.

Francis grinned. “Trouble with you is, you don’t smile enough. Maybe if you would, you’d not be such a miserable and hateful son of a bitch.”

This did not elicit the proper response, as the man was a coward and did not want to fight with Francis or end up using the public works shovel again. He kept his mouth shut, but Francis could not let this insult go. He had a reputation to uphold, and there were many men who liked the idea of calling Francis a fairy. Francis probed a bit more, looking at the man’s hand, which the dude held out, too conspicuously. “Like for instance, son, here you are, sittin’ with  a full house, aces high, and still you got a look on your face like there’s a steel rod up yer backside.”  Allingham; Canyon Diablo