The side opposite the Colville Reservation belongs to the Spokanes. In the old days, a blonde-haired Indian named Barney Whitehead ran a honky-tonk with a dirt floor and a canvas roof just past the ferry site. The place sold bathtub gin for a nickel a throw and beer three times what it cost at th...
Her chest thumped fast as a bird’s. Jarms snored quietly. The candles had melted to waxy flowers. He touched each one to make certain it had cooled. Satisfied, Matt perked the morning coffee in the kitchen. He returned with two cups—Jarms would sleep till noon—and set one on the end table next to...