The shooting had all been in pitch-darkness. Watching them, Elmira wished she was a man so she could just buy a horse and ride away. Once, drinking at a creek that was barely a trickle, the hand she was bracing herself with slipped and she got mud on her nose. This is July Johnson, and I wouldn't fight him, Roscoe said.
Which boys? she asked. In the first years the sight of any rider scared her and made her look to see where Bob was, or be sure a rifle was handy. She ain't been here. Do you want his other leg? Well, where is it? Call asked, startled.
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