The air was thick with smells of gunsmoke, burned wool, blood. Cuthbert tried again to take the cursed thing away, and couldn’t. Roland wasn’t entirely surprised to see that it was Deputy Dave, his remaining bits of hair slicked back w “Come to me a moment, please.
What her gaze settled upon was the bruise on Roland’s lower left jaw, clearly visible even in the faint light which crept through the half-open sepultura door. The last music had quit twenty minutes ago—Sheb had outlasted the mariachis by an hour or so, and now lay snoring with his face in the sawdust. It could have been the smoke of burning tankers, or the brush piled in front of Eyebolt, or both. It was perched on the hitching rail and flicking its tail saucily.
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