”Cuthbert, still fighting tears, did as he was told. “I think that’s to change soon. The ball—big enough to have taken Clay Reynolds’s head off from the nose on up, had it fired—stayed in the barrel. ”Renfrew nodded, clapped Roland on the back, ingested a goodly quaff of ale.
Jonas nudged his horse in between them. Two men—Sheriff Avery and an elderly gent as gaunt as Old Doctor Death in a cartoon—came toward them. There were still dimples at the corners of her lips, but her eyes were anxious. “Quit looking at me that way, you big old sonuvabitch,” Sheemie whispered, and felt a little better.
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