"All right y'coward. You think you can best me? I wanna see you try." Vin Tanner squared off against Larabee across the small dusty yard, tan against black, unblinking eye against unblinking eye. His leg throbbed and blood ran down his pant leg from the stab wound so recently inflicted with a spur. "I done seen my share a'turncoats in my lifetime. I handled them, reckon can handle you."
He took a step forward: Larabee didn't move.
"Ain't ya got nothing t'say for yourself Larabee? Attacking a fella unawares, a fella who's been nothing but your friend from the get-go. All the ladies might think you're something special Larabee but you ain't. You're nothing but a coward. I already got my neck in a noose so – so help me– you try anything like that again and I'll serve you up for Sunday supper."
Larabee was unmoved; he only cocked his head as though mocking the words.
"Don't you look at me like I'm nothing." Vin threatened him. "I may not be much but at least I ain't a damn chicken."
"VIN TANNER!" Nettie's voice so close startled Vin. He turned to find her right at his shoulder. "How many times do I have to tell you not to annoy my rooster? He wouldn't get you with his spur if you'd give him his room. Now if you're done arguing with a dumb animal I suggest you come inside, mind your manners, and let me tend to that scratch."
"Yes Nettie."
She went back toward the house and Vin turned once more to the beady eyed black rooster who glared at him. After a brief stare down, the rooster turned and, scratching his foot backwards, flung tiny stones at Vin before he walked serenely away to join his hens.
Just as Vin was fingering his side arm and picturing Sunday dinner, Nettie's voice reached him once more.
"And his name ain't Larabee."
The end
