Cuthbert almost sneered. His eyes had been amusingly round beneath the ridiculous pink lady’s straw he wore. Susan found it almost impossible to look at Olive’s smiling, unhappy face. We’re camped over there.
Here comes the cruncher. That’s where we want to go, because that’s our way home. And at the bar, a whole line of assorted toughs, drifters, cowpunchers, drovers, drivers, carters, wheel The one she had mistaken for a gunslinger, until she had realized his youth.
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