Sitting there, staring at Bob’s penis, though, caused more doubts to assail her mind. She had felt this thing against her body ... in her hand, even... It hadn’t felt disgusting, or even dangerous. It was hot. She remembered that. The one time she had gripped it, it had felt spongy, but also hard somehow. Touching it hadn’t burned her hand, or caused skin lesions. She hadn’t gone insane. She knew, now, that all that hyperbole, as Bob had called it, had been her mother’s attempts to scare her. And. ‘Who’s in the cabin?’ The voice was husky from long hours on the trail. ‘Only my wife.’ Clint was nervous. ‘Good. Lead the way. Sonny you help Dan.’ He gestured with the Colt for Clint to start back to the cabin. As they turned a third figure shuffled from the barn. This one was three or four years older than Clint and, like the other two, covered in trail dust. He carried his left arm in a makeshift sling liberally spotted with dried blood. ‘No sweat Tad. It’s my shoulder that got hit, not my. More

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