FifteenMason stopped the wagon and chewed the inside of his cheek. He looked back the way he had come. Once news of Pilcher's killing reached the vet's ears, promises and agreements would fly away like paper in the wind. He'd tell, tell them all and Mason didn't want no posse on his trail, no lynch-mob eager to stretch his neck. Newhart's neither. He'd made a mistake, should have put kindness and gratitude aside and shot him. The sister, too. Pity, because she was pretty. What the hell, there are plenty more lovely things out on the range! He spat and turned the wagon about.
He couldn't rush, the nag simply did not have the strength to move quicker than a shuffle, but when he arrived back at the surgery, he was relieved to find the surrounding streets empty. The door was open, as it alway
