Well There’s Still Some Whiskey

"I do likes to shoot people," Jake consoled himself with. "And you know how I get when you talk about you shooting people. All right. I don't like him, but I think yer right, Miss Eliza. Traveling with him is our safest bet. I still don't like the way he looks at you though, an' I don't trust 'em, but this does sound like our best bet. "

“The way ‘e looks at me huh? An’ hows that? Like ‘e wants ta find a gun an’ shoot me dead?” Eliza crossed her arms in front of her chest. “Nah it ain’t is it? And as long as it ain’t, neither of us gotta worry. Remember,” she said shooting Jake a look. “That it’s none ‘o ya buisness how other men look at me.” Her voice wasn’t harsh or annoyed, merely careful as she reminded him of their earlier conversation.

“I reckon e’ll find ‘is way back ta ‘is stage sooner or later, an’ when ‘e does, we’ll be waitin’ fer ‘im eh? I want none ta do with those two ‘not-bounty-hunters’ anymore. Let’s avoid ‘em fer now.” She hoped that would be as easily done than said. “I still got half a bottle o’ whiskey in our room,” she suggested and at last left the sight. She wiped her sleeve over her nose one last time, making sure the rest of the blood was gone before walking off.

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