Were they going in there a few days from now? Actually going in, riding to within mere yards of where that cursed puddle started? He couldn’t believe it . The reins lay limp in her lap; the pony worked smart without them. The empty glass flew from his hand, and there was no foot-runner to cushion its landing. A pretty trifle.
His rider ducked his own head as he passed through the willow fronds, and suddenly there was a narrow Then he licked the thumb and hoisted it to the wind. (It probably wasn’t worth a tin shit, anyway. “It’s like a nightmare,” he said in a small, close-to-tears voice.
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