Storm Watch Butte gunslinger I

lynx was a pretty boy, a tall boy, sand pouring from his withers into puddling rivulets that touched the cowboy's own paw. "well, lynx, yew got a helluva way o'greetin' a man," briggs scoffed in an amused, roughened laugh. 
the younger wolf coughed. "get all that out, yeah. a bad business, havin' a bellyfull'o sand," colt drawled, and he lay more relaxedly upon the ledge now. "the name's briggs." nothing else needed for now. "yew from aroun' these parts, friend?"