Editing Two of Spades: 'The Last Word'

I seen him. Seen the man what carries that Gun-- the one what is branded the Two of Spades.

Didn't 'ave no dust on 'is boots, that man. Fine a dandy as ever came from back east. No spurs, no gun belt, nothin' of the sort. Seemed a gamblin' type, of the 'igh-stakes variety, but that was about it.

But I seen some Cards in my day, an' that man, he had that feel to 'im. On some it's arrogance, on some it's despair, but they all 'ave it -- that look what sets them apart. This one-- 'e 'ad confidence, an' buckets of it, the way 'e stepped down the middle of the road bold as ol' brass.

Now I thought to meself, Jake, I thought, Jake-- this 'ere man is a Gunslinger what don't look the part. There's more than few of them, the way the Dealer works, mistirous an' ineffibabble an' all that. So I look twice. An' I see, the man is carryin' a stick, a walkin' stick. Brass knob, ebon shaft-- an' I draw down me stetson an' settle back on the porch so as I look asleep, not drawin' attention.

Now, attention is what the man is drawin' to himself, courtesy of the local mavericks what just see a tinhorn ripe for the pluckin'. An' they mob up on the man there on the street, five guys over six feet each, lookin' to lighten 'is load. An' one of them says to the man, "Give us what you've got, an' we'll let you go."

The man just looks 'im dead in the eye an' says, "No."

Now the mavericks ain't gonna take that kindly, and the guy what spoke gets irate, but tries to keep 'is cool. "That's gonna be your last word," 'e says, and sics 'is buddies on the man.

Only, an' I swear on me dear Mum's soul, 'e is more than their match. First guy, 'e throws 'is coat an' blinds 'im, then 'its 'im with a strike to the knee, wieldin' that cane like a boy might in a ball game, then drives the tip into 'is thigh. Fellow is bleedin' like a stuck pig, an' soon goes still. Second guy, 'e crushes 'is nose with the brass knob on the backstroke-- fellow drops dead on the spot. Third and fourth, 'e hits in the throat and the 'nads, an' both spill their life on the dusty ground. An' as the fifth guy comes up, the one what had spoken an' what had been sneaking up on him from behind, 'e spins around and puts the bottom of 'is cane right up to the guy's chin. Smiles, tut-tuts, an' BANG! Guy drops dead. An' I swear on me dear Mum's soul, I 'ear the Gunslinger say, "THIS. Is my last word."

- Gamblin' Man

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