“No,” I said.
“Why, then?”
“All this because of what you let him do to Daisy.”
Gertrude absorbed that. “You were fond of that little tramp?” Then she did the worst thing she could have done: she laughed.
They were two days dying.
On the third day I added their horses to my string and gigged Brisco to the southeast. I was heading for Galveston. From there I could take a ship to anywhere in the world. South America, maybe. I would hide out down there for a year or so and then come back. By then the Texas Rangers were bound to have lost interest.
Cows can fly, too.
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