”“Where?”“The Rocking H. Gasher lowered the ’dozer’s blade. “We only talked five minutes in all, but once I looked at him and thought it was the old bastard from Ritzy—the one I shot. In the porch rocker was a comical stuffy-guy wearing one of Herk Avery’s embroidered vests and a tin star.
“Rhea,” he said. No one breathed. And I’ll need a bit o’ time after, mind ye. and that’s not much time.
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