Chapter 3: Frank
Brandon was sitting at the bar one afternoon, talking to Katy and Kirk, an eighteen-year-old whose little sister was the only Caucasian in the class Brandon taught. Kirk was dark-haired, good-looking and quite obviously keen on Katy. However, while Brandon was grateful for the company of people reasonably close to his own age, he was feeling a little like the third wheel, watching as Kirk did his best to chat up Katy, who was smiling coquettishly at his attempts.
Brandon was just beginning to zone out when a burst of men’s voices from the hallway leading in from the back of the pub snatched his attention back to the present. As he turned on his bar stool, four solid, scruffy men walked into the room.
“Bushie Creek miners,” said Kirk.
Two of the men headed straight for
