On the second morning after the attack, one of the wagon wheels fell into a deep, hard rut, breaking the axle. Swearing, Tawny jumped down and studied it for a moment before moving back, hands on hips. “That just about puts an end to that,” he said.
Stepping down to join him, Han sighed. “We will have to ride the horses. How far are we from Fort Craig?”
“How in the hell do you know about Fort Craig, c******n?”
“My name is Han, and I am not Chinese.”
“I know – you told me. So answer me.”
“I know many places.”
Regarding the Okinawan sourly, Tawny rolled his tongue around inside his mouth before leaning over to his left and spitting into the ground. “Wish I had me some more tobacco.”
“Water would be better.”
“Shoot, c******n, water is for horses. Where you from, anyways?”
Sighing mor
