George Bryan Polivka books

Blaggard's Moon

He looked down at the young man, one cheek bunched up where it pressed against the gray paint of the wooden porch, mouth open and drooling. “Beggin’ yer pardon fer droppin’ by wif no notice. Jus’ got in from Nearin’ Vast, where I been dealin’ wif some scalawags…” “Successfully, I hope?” “Oh, we s...