Bravo. I get it. I'm new in town and you don't like strangers. Worse yet, we're in the Wild West and I'm the Man with No Name. Nothing fazes me. I look tougher just squinting and smoking a cigarillo than a Comanche warrior on horseback looks when he's charging at you with a bloody tomahawk. I can shoot four armed men dead in less than two seconds. I can even aim my gun at a man lying 20 feet behind me and shoot him dead without turning to look first. So naturally, you see me as a "bad boy" who'll move in on your liquor and gun smuggling in this graveyard of a border town. You and the Baxter Boys probably think I'm planning to set fire to your house and shoot you as you stumble out, choking on smoke.
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