Cole thumped the bar with his fist as he spat forth his demand, making no attempt to cloak the contempt in his voice. The whole saloon had fallen silent when he had walked in, and now people were still holding their peace, but also now shuffling in their seats. A handful of the clientelle near to the door hurriedly rose and left, and the Faro dealer was closing up as the barkeep slowly wandered over to Cole, bottle in hand.
He poured Cole a shot;
“That’ll be a dime, Cole. You know the rules. You don’t raise that shot up ‘til I see your coin.”
Cole slammed three dollar pieces onto the bar;
“Leave the damn bottle, an’ shove your rules!”
The barkeep did as he was told, sliding the three coins off the bar and turning away in contempt.
“Mind you bring me my change, boy! This bottle ain’t full and I’ve give you fifty cents over the value for a full one.”
A shadow fell across the doorway and a voice came in from the street;
“Cole, if you want to drink in my place, you need to be kinder to the folks as work for me.”
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