8They ate the leaf-wrapped delicacies Eddie called gunslinger burritos, drawing closer to the fire and feeding it more wood as the dark drew down. Those who managed to do so in time were broadsided by the next wave of men—some of whom were, incredibly, still yipping or bellowing full-throated battle cries. Eldred Jonas. He looked away, toward the table’s lower end, and what he saw there was no better.
It was the image of Jake striking flint and steel that kept recurring; he would allow his mind to dwell “Lovergirl of the young proddy who killed my Ermot. “It’s crap, kid,” he said. The insistence of the thinny was far, far greater than any George Latigo could have managed.
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