The man backed away from him and stammered, "You're Jim Quade, aren't you? "Damn it, Quade thought, it's the same everywhere. And he knew what would happen next. It would be only a matter of minutes before the sheriff would come in, sometimes blustering, sometimes serious. Then there would be the young men with bold, hungry eyes, weighing him and judging him, those eyes asking, How good are you? Are you as good as they say you are? Are still the fastest draw in the West? Quade shifted his feet and touched the smooth grip of his single gun. Now he had only to wait for the challenge.
