Black Mesa

Turnbaugh gave a dark chuckle. ‘‘You lawdogs and your badges,’’ he said, ‘‘you’re worse than priests with their crosses.’’ He shook his head. ‘‘I never could understand why a little ornament like that makes such a difference to yas.’’

     ‘‘I don’t expect you would,’’ said Sam. He paused, took a breath and gave another glance at either end of the bar. Here goes, he said to himself, hoping he’d given Maria enough time to get into position near the empty window frame to back him up. But there was no time to wonder about it now. ‘‘I’m taking you to Fort Smith, Turnbaugh,’’ he said.

     Turnbaugh gave another dark chuckle. ‘‘Are you now?’’ he said in a cocky tone, as if it were all a joke.

      "Care to hear some numbers on how many two-bit lawmen like you has tried that same thing?’’ 
         
     ‘‘The numbers don’t matter,’’ said Sam, barely shaking his head.