Canyon moaned into his flask. Although it wasn’t quite suppertime, he had it almost empty already. The whiskey and campfire tried to warm his bones. December was colder than last time around, making his wrist throb with pain these three weeks since he’d tangled with the pitchfork. Hell, light snow had fallen this morning. Hadn’t lasted but an hour, but none of that was the worst of his mess. His instincts were all shot to hell, a very bad circumstance for a horse thief. “There was somebody in the shadows, Gitts. At Stony Brook. I should have known. I should have felt something.” “Bound to happen, Canyon. Sooner or later. But you leveled him,” Gitts encouraged with a burp. “You did good.” Crazy. Just then the flowery scent from the barn flashed in his nose again even over the burning brush and his unbathed comrade. But that wasn’t all. He couldn’t get the old lady out of his head, not for one single minute. Such remorse had never distressed him before. Not ever. He’d downright taken from her something he shouldn’t, and it wracked him deep down.
What do You think about Christmas For Ransom (2012)?
