True Grit

by Charles Portis

The watch was of brass and not very expensive but I was surprised to find it because people who will not steal big things will often steal little things like that.

His grin and his confident manner cowed everybody at the table but me and they stopped talking and made a to-do about passing him things, like he was somebody.

He stood up and said, “Earlier tonight I gave some thought to stealing a kiss from you, though you are very young, and sick and unattractive to boot, but now I am of a mind to give you five or six good licks with my belt.” “One would be as unpleasant as the other,” I replied.

I had held longer amounts in my hand but this money, I fancied, would be pleasing out of proportion to its face value. But no, it was only three hundred and twenty-five dollars in paper and the moment fell short of my expectations.

I think Smallwood was a gentleman but gentlemen are only human and their memories can sometimes fail them. Business is business.

But I had not the strength nor the inclination to bandy words with a drunkard. What have you done when you have bested a fool?

These old-timers had all fought together in the border strife under Quantrill’s black standard, and afterward led dangerous lives, and now this was all they were fit for, to show themselves to the public like strange wild beasts of the jungle.