The lanky, mustached man leaned back against the soft contour of the diamond-white dune and lit his cigar with the ember from their mesquite fire. Stony Harte said nothing, nor did Cameron Black. ‘You see,’ Hogan went on, with all the confidence a man who has the upper hand and knows it shows, ‘I...
It was a bitter moon. A pocked half-survivor in a terrible sky. But the moon around her was so much sadder. In the tall ancestral house beyond her, the vicious voices – filled with lost longings and ancient recriminations – continued their loud discussion. Here she lay against the sweet grass whe...