Po, you're too short to see far, but I hear you can tell fortunes, he said one morning when he had ridden over for breakfast. Life in Font Smith was different, too--so dull that she found little reason to raise herself from her quilts, most days. What's the news? he asked. His breath still rattled, but he was asleep.
Call saddled the Hell Bitch anyway and rode around the herd to see that all was in place. Why, son, I'm fine, he said. After all, she had sold Gus the poke that very afternoon--it was not impossible that Jake had found out, some way. I guess it's our fault, Call said.
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