no good

where are you going, harold? down to the river. river? this is gulch county. ain’t no river in four hundred miles of here. between here and the mountains at least. be that as it may, that’s where i’m going. and my name isn’t harold, it’s jack. and what are you going to do when you get to the river, jack? i’m going to shoot that no good woman. woman? you’ve spent your whole life in gulch county. you’ve never even seen a woman, except maybe a few opera singers passing through on the stagecoach on their way to denver or san francisco. i am going to shoot that no good woman because she done me wrong. with what? ain’t no guns in gulch county. a few old rusted up ones, maybe, in the dump, or up in old pete’s cabin. you going to make yourself a bow and arrow, maybe? keep ridin’ me, hoss, keep ridin’ me. i ain’t ridin’ you, harold. just asking a few questions, that’s all. i told you, my name isn’t harold, it’s jack. i/m sorry, jack. i forgot. i’ll be on my way. i’m going down to the river, to shoot that no good woman because she done me wrong. well i wish you luck. thank you. that’s very kind of you. jack walked across the dry river bed and across the plain into the shadow of the mountain and disappeared. the sun went down over the mountain.