He gave you his horse and his gun and that watch. I'll go get the whiskey, he said. The country was open, lightly spotted with elm and post oak. He delivered the cattle safely, sold them for a fair amount and brought the money home.
There was something on the third horse, but it wasn't a rider. Well, we are, he said finally. We give a nice ten-dollar funeral, the undertaker said. Slugs particularly.
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