Download PDF by Charles G. West: Bloody Hills

By Charles G. West

Small yet lethal with a gun, Billy Ray Blevins has made a name for himself as a gunslinger. After one cold-blooded homicide too many, town humans shape a posse to move after Billy Ray. They flip again after Billy Ray flees to the Black Hills - that's, all however the widow of the fellow he murdered and a deputy. rarely certified to adopt the duty, despite their selection, they're lucky to take place upon the only guy greater than capable - Clay Culver, a scout whose monitoring talents are moment to none.

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S I M O N : What, the young lady is not in church ? Shirking? G RUS H A : I was dressed to go. But they needed another goose for the banquet. And they asked me to get it. I know about geese. s 1M o N : A goose? } I 'd like to see that goose. ) One must be on one's guard with women . " I only went for a fish , " they tell yo u, but it turns out to be something else. G RUS H A (walking resolutely toward him and showing him the goose}: There! If it isn't a fifteen-pound goose stuffed full of corn, I 'll eat the feathers.

You need time for a good quarrel . May I ask if the young lady still has parents? G R U S H A : No, j ust a brother. S I M O N : As time is short - my second question is this: Is the young lady as healthy as a fish in water? G R U S H A : I may have a pain in the right shoulder once in a while. Otherwise I 'm strong enough for my job. No one has complained. So far. s I M o N : That's well known. When it's Easter Sunday, and the question arises who'll run for the goose all the same, she'll be the one.

Horrified, she picks up her bundle again, and is about to leave when the s 1 N G E R starts to speak. She stands rooted to the spot. SINGER: As she was standing between courtyard and gate, She heard or she thought she heard a low voice calling. The child called to her, Not whining, but calling quite sensibly, Or so it seemed to her. "Woman," it said, "help me. " And it went on, not whining, but saying quite sensibly: " Know, woman, he who hears not a cry for help But passes by with troubled ears will never hear The gentle call of a lover nor the blackbi rd at dawn Nor the happy sigh of the tired grape-p icker as the Angelus rings .

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