The room seemed to spin; lights flashed all around.She unbuttoned the first button, then the second. She noted several men already staring at her lacy bra even though only a small portion peeked through. Her mind raced. Can I get this damned thing off without taking off my blouse? I used to do that in Girl Scouts.She started trying to maneuver her bra straps under her blouse quite unsuccessfully."Oh my, do I have to do this?" she pled to the dealer."Given you willingness, albeit reluctant willingness, to go through with paying off your wager, I am empowered to offer you an alternative bet, if you are interested. You may keep your bra and you can win $5,000 if you play and win the next hand."Beverly suddenly clutched her blouse together at the neck."Five thousand dollars? You have to be kidding... at a $5 table?" Suddenly a frown came over her face. "And, if I lose?" If you lose, the house requires all of your clothes." All?" Everything. You must remove your clothing here. The. He tried to lift the pistol.Frank couldn’t believe he’d actually shot a man. His draw had been instinctive, the product of all the secret practice he’d done since winning the guns. He’d killed countless tin cans, and knotholes. He’d even killed a snake.But he’d never shot a man.He felt paralyzed and the pistol in his hand that he was so proud of seemed to suddenly weigh forty pounds. He couldn’t keep it pointed at the man he’d just shot. It began to fall as Buford’s pistol began to come back up.Sheriff Matt Couffman calmly lifted his pistol and shot Buford right between his eyes. The man toppled over backwards, folding up on his lower legs and giving the impression he was suddenly a double amputee. The pistol he’d been about to shoot Frank with flopped in the dirt by his limp hand.There was a split second of silence before everything that had happened started women screaming and men yelling. People darted this way and that, milling like spooked cattle. Just as amazingly, things.
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