He never met her in the saloon but came up the back stairs, usually after dark; she would be standing just inside the door waiting, her face anxious. Otherwise they'll follow us. Her arms were plumpish, but more graceful than any Dish had ever Seen. The dusty street wavered in his vision as if under a heavy rain.
He breathed heavily for a time, and then stood up. Call loped through it with Deets, to look at the crossing. Frog Lip kept an extra pistol in his saddlebags. The day was fine and the herd moving nicely, with Dish holding the point as if he had held it all his life.
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