Ticket to Yuma
“The others at the table changed, but it was always Clint and Cates. He had learned to eat the gruel they served the prisoners, but he still gave Cates half of it at each meal. And he ate his bread, minus the moldy bits.
“What’s the word, Cates?”
“What word is that, Clint?”
“About when they’re going to come for me.”
Cates didn’t bother to pretend he didn’t know what Clint was talking about.
“They’re still watchin’ you,” he said. “They want to see who you become friends with. ...Who you’ll have on your side.”
“Why not come for me before that?” Clint asked. “While I’m alone?”
“They’re afraid of you.”
“Even without my gun?”
“Even without your gun.”
“Do you know who’ll come for me?”
“No.”MoreLess
“What’s the word, Cates?”
“What word is that, Clint?”
“About when they’re going to come for me.”
Cates didn’t bother to pretend he didn’t know what Clint was talking about.
“They’re still watchin’ you,” he said. “They want to see who you become friends with. ...Who you’ll have on your side.”
“Why not come for me before that?” Clint asked. “While I’m alone?”
“They’re afraid of you.”
“Even without my gun?”
“Even without your gun.”
“Do you know who’ll come for me?”
“No.”MoreLess
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