Grit the Teeth

Cody clenched his jaw and grit his teeth when the outlaw called Mattie a whore. Mattie was far from the high-ta-do ladies wit’ their parasols an what. But he knew Mattie ta be e’ery inch a lady an not someone wit’ no respect fer theirself liken a whore.

"Toss that rope there over here." He ordered, pointing the rifle barrel to the rope hanging from Cody's saddle bag.

"Whatcha doin' out this way anyway, smith? Shouldn't you be rebuilding your shit shop? Who's gonna shoe all them horses? You should've kept your nose to your anvil where it belonged."

One thing he lernt from Mattie was, ye gotta stay calm. Ya can’t let a feller know he’s gittin under yer collar.

So, Franks got the rope. At first, he was tempted ta throw it at ‘im, tryin ta distract ‘im. But then what? Cody had no weapon.

So, Cody nice-an-easily laid the rope at the man’s feet. He kept his eyes on him all the time. May be, he’s gonna tie Cody up wit’ the rope. That was a good sign. He may live ta see Mattie again. Although, what the man had said didn’t offer Franks much hope.

“Jist thought ye should know,” Cody told him, “yer friend is dead.”

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