One Letter Short of a Scribe

Since I just recommended it to Gobula and seeing as I just read it, I may as well share a few quotes from Scrib, one of the more colorful and fun westerns for kids I've come across (a genre I usually avoid). It was quite enjoyable. (Click into the amazon link if you want a description.)

I never liked to charge Pierre because he was dirt poor, or sand poor, but he always dug out the coins to pay me. Then he rattled some pine nuts out of a leather pouch for us to share. He might have thought white people was coyotes, but he still shared food with me. Long as people do that, I guess it don't matter what they think of you.
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"You ever thought of brushing your hair upwards?" he asked outa nowhere.
I said, "No, sir, I hadn't thought of it too much."
"You want to feel good, you try brushing your head upwards sometime," said Crazy James Kincaid. "Put some open spaces betwixt your hairs. That'll blow more fresh air into your skull."
"I'll try it, sir."
"Aerate your brain," he said. "That's what she's there for."
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It had taken me but two hours in Hill to turn from a letter writer into a saloon-going, hoor-buying, ceegar-smoking barroom-brawl-inciter and to get blackjacked, robbed, unbelted, unshod, and publicly humiliated. I obviously had some kinda talent. I just wished I had a different one.
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"Get outa here, boy," Fly said from behind the bar. I felt flattered to be the kinda person one would kick out of a saloon. That takes some character.
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This meant that Jenny Smeed sat at the middle of a circle of evil. One would have to be a fool to enter that circle, but I had proved my self a fool time and time again by now and seemed cut out for the job.