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through.   “That’s putting it mildly.”
     
    ***
     
    The space freighter bounced them up and down in their seats like rubber balls, but Johnny Saringo paid it no mind as he held up the display screen.   He pointed to the masked figure at the center of the screen and said, “This is footage of Gentleman Jim during the Sandy Hill Bank Robbery.   He shot the female clerk in the face when she told him she couldn’t open up her register, then he killed the bank manager just for sport.   That’s what finally got him into the big leagues as far as bounties go.”
     
    Bob Ford leaned forward in his seat and squinted at the grainy photograph.   “Can I see that?” he said.  
     
    Saringo handed the screen to Bob and sat back.   The seats were made of molded plastic and Johnny stuck his hands under his rear end to give his tailbone a rest.   “Word is that he’s getting into darker stuff than just knocking off banks and robbing stage coaches.   We have intelligence that he’s trafficking humans, snatching women and smuggling them off planet to sell them to the highest bidder.”
     
    “Selling them for what?” Bob said.
     
    “What do you think, Bob?”  
     
    Bob Ford handed him back the screen and said, “I can’t help you, Mr. Saringo.   That isn’t Gentleman Jim.”
     
    Saringo took the screen back and looked down at it, seeing the masked man holding a cocked revolver in his hand.   “The hell are you talking about, Bob?   It most certainly is.”
     
    “No it isn’t,” Bob said.   He tapped the screen with his finger and said, “Gentleman Jim was three inches taller than me and had a square chin.   This man is hardly taller than the woman he’s standing next to, plus he’s got an inverted chin, like it stopped growing early or something.   See that mask?   It’s all crooked and cheaply made.   The man I rode with wouldn’t have used that mask to wipe his boots off with.   Anyway, Jim never hurt a single woman in all the time I knew him and never let anybody else do it either.   You’re looking for the wrong man.”
     
    Johnny Saringo looked back at the display screen for a moment, then turned it off and set it aside.   He leaned forward in his seat and said, “Now you listen to me, you lily-livered son of a bitch.   The only reason you aren’t getting bent over your bunk and stove-piped right now is because you accepted an assignment.   Now, I don’t care what your memory tells you about the man you used to know, but that isn’t really important.   The man in this photograph is the only Gentleman Jim I give a shit about and if you don’t want to spend the rest of your worthless, useless existence servicing the inmates of an entire prison wing, I suggest you get your head on straight.   Am I clear right now, boy?”
     
    Bob Ford looked down at his shoes and nodded.  
     
    “Outlaws die all the time and get replaced,” Saringo said.   “Probably, one of his new partners was too smart to get caught in the same ruse that trapped you and put a bullet in the last one’s brain.   All he had to do was put on a mask and sooner than you could say ‘stick-up’ he was the new boss hog.   So what if this new one don’t have quite the same code of chivalry as the former?   If he wants to wear the mask, he’s gonna face the consequences for every single one of them that’s ever done it.”
     
    “It wasn’t me being stupid that got me caught,” Bob said.   “It was me being loyal.   I did what he told me to do because I was following orders.”
     
    “Yeah,” Johnny Saringo said, “And look where that got you.”
     
    ***
     
    Johnny Saringo watched Bob get dressed in his old clothes and frowned as he hiked up his black trousers.   “Look how baggy they are.   You lost some serious weight in there, boy.”
     
    “The food had bugs in it,” Bob said.  
     
    “Yeah, they don’t pay much mind to the cuisine they serve, I reckon.   Listen, the first thing