The Ranger entered the Saloon and sat at the bar, ignoring the sudden silence that had filled the room, beyond a crack of a whip from outside as a stagecoach passed (and a second muffled whip cracking upstairs from Big Betty's parlor).
"Whisky, please."
The Bartender slowly poured out a shot.
"Here on business?"
The Ranger paid and then drank the shot quickly as everyone else leaned in.
"Indeed. After a cattle rustler gang."
A table cleared, and the Ranger chuckled.
"6 to 2."
The Bartender looked confused.
"Sixth time I've guessed the right crime to send someone running away."
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