"Yes," she snapped. "Get her some brandy."Al laughed as he went into the kitchen area in search of glasses."Your... your 'buddy' could have killed her... You realize that?" she yelled at him.She glared at the older, hairier, fatter, baldheaded policeman who sat, spread-legged, on a settee opposite. Max was grinning happily. His monstrous, now flaccid, cock glistened in the flickering light of the fire."Nah," he said. "I only got it half way up the little cunt. Thanks to this." Max patted his beer. The dust could be seen for miles. As he got to the sentry at the entrance, he didn’t even slow down. The sentry did nothing. He recognized the leader of his gang. He also recognized that Bob was mad. Madder that he had seen him in a long time.Bob Pritchert had led this group for over a year. Most of that time had been in the south. But the pressure from the Mexican law had convinced him to return to his original stomping grounds. The Washoe County in northwest Nevada territory. Part of this was. More

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