from page 115-116 of DEVIL MAKE A THIRD:

(Buck) bent forward staring intently into the sun at a figure coming up the road towards them.

"What in the hell is that?" he said, wonderingly.

Tobe shaded his eyes with one hand and peered. He snorted. "Buffalo Bill?"

"Without a horse," Buck said, and as the figure came closer, he turned to Tobe. "You know him?"

Tobe shook his head,"Stranger to me."

A figure came closer, slowly, almost sauntering down the road, little puffs of white dust gasping up from under tight, high-heeled cowboy boots. In spite of the heat, the stranger wore a woolen vest, open in front and showing a brightly checkered shirt. Over his shoulders, so it fell with easy reach across his stomach, was slung a battered guitar. As the figure drew near Buck could see under the brim of a wide black hat where sweat and dust had crusted around the thin mouth. The stranger hardly glanced at Tobe or Buck. His small vague eyes never left Buck's horse. Gently, his right hand strayed over its muzzle.

"Do you like this horse?" he asked softly.

"Well, I'll be damned,"Tobe said.

Buck's puzzled eyeds went to Tobe, then back to the stranger.

"Not so much i wouldn't sell him."

"That's too bad," the stranger said, then coughed apologetically,"I couldn't buy a horse."

"Broke?" Tobe's voice was harsh.

The stranger patted his guitar. "I'm in the music business," he said simply.

"Never saw you around here before."

"I just got here."

"Figurin' to stay?"

The stranger chuckled slyly.

"Not if the police make you work. I don't like work."

Buck raised his eyebrows at Tobe.

"What's your name?' he said, bluntly.

"Virgil," the stranger said.

from page 336-337 of DEVIL MAKE A THIRD:

"Virgil!" (Buck) called, abruptly, hardly knowing why. Virgil turned to face, but not see  him. "You never have been crazy, have you? You've been throwing a bluff for twenty years."

"No, I'm not crazy," Virgil said and his  thin lips quivered.  "But my brother is. He works."

Buck laughed out loud and pushed his hand out and away from him as if to hurry Virgil off again on his leisurely visit with the town. He realized, queerly, that it was the first time he'd laughed in a long time and turned towards the hotel, walking slowly, letting his mind lumber over Virgil.

"Damn if he ain't right in one way," he thought, and tried to put it into words. "Can't sleep in but one bed at a time. Can't eat but three meals a day and be comfortable, or wear more than one suit at a time. Reckon if a fellow stretched that thinking out, he'd figure anything above what he needs is like a mill rock that he's got to drag along. If that's so, I'm toting a load."

He chuckled, opening the door to the hotel lobby, and almost spoke aloud.

"I still like money." He held the cold coins in his pocket, warming them in his hand...