I slid the brand new gun into the brand new holster, letting it rest against my thigh so’s I could get a feel for it. It seemed to sit, being at home there, and I grinned, tying the strings so it wouldn’t flap about.

“Looks good,” Ned, the store owner said. “You’ll be ready to take on the ‘verse now.”

“That I will,” I agreed.

“Just don’t shoot yourself in the foot, first time you try to use it.”

“Hell, I ain’t gonna do that.” To prove it I drew the pistol, cocking it on the way up, aiming on the way down, just as I’d practised.

“Damn, that’s good.” Ned seemed surprised.

“Accurate, too.”

“Then maybe we should be warning folks not to mess with you.”

“Maybe we should.” I pushed my shoulders back and slapped the cashy money down on the counter. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” His thin hands snaked out and grabbed the coin, slithering back from view. “And tell your Ma that cord of linen’s in, if’n she wants to decide what colour she wants me to dye it.”

“Sure.” But I was already itching to get out into the sun, show off my fancy new rig, and my man’s walk. “See ya, Ned.”

I walked outside, hitching my thumbs into the gunbelt, and looked up and down the street. Pity there weren’t more people around, ‘specially maybe Tom Fletcher, seeing as he’d been pushing me to a fight for a long time. Well, let’s just see him do it now. I’d been saving all my pennies for as long as I could, and I was ready for him or anyone else.

I stepped down into the dust of the street, breathing deep of the air faintly tainted with the smells from the factories a few miles off. A noise overhead made me look up, but it was just a shuttle coming in to land at the dock. Be me ‘fore too long, I considered. I’d had enough of this rock, and soon I’d be setting off to see the ‘verse, selling my gunhand to any as’d buy it. I’d send money home, a’course. Can’t be letting my Ma go without, but there ain't no way I was gonna end up in those factories. Too many men came out crippled, their lungs busted all t