The Floating Outfit 23: A Town Called Yellowdog

The citizens of Moondog, Texas, stood staring at the small, blond, insignificant cowhand—only he seemed to be the biggest man present, towering over his two companions, and neither of them lacked size. Cold fury worked on Dusty Fog’s face as he pointed to the signboard announcing the name of the town.
“My brother came here because you begged for help,” he told them. “Danny put his life on the line and you hadn’t the guts to back him. So he died. The name of this town’s all wrong and I aim to see it put right. You!” His finger stabbed at the Blue Bull Saloon’s bartender. “Take your paint brush and cover over ‘Moondog’ on that sign. Put ‘Yellowdog’ in its place. Yellowdog, hombre. That’s what your town is—it and everybody in it.” Slowly, his head hanging in shame, the bartender obeyed; for he and every man in the crowd knew that Dusty spoke the bitter truth.