It seemed that my life for hers was a fair trade to me.My gait is kind of John Wayneish. My shoulders rock from side to side with each step. I don’t...know how I did it, but as we passed the pool table I rocked to the left, pick up a ball in my left hand, rocked to the right and spun. My right hand swept his gun out of the way, with my left, bringing up the ball and smashing it as hard as I could just in front of Mr. James Riker’s right ear.He dropped like he had been shot.“Call 9-1-1!” I yelled. Johnson kicked a glowing ember back into the campfire,then squatted down and tilted a tin cup of hot, black coffeeup to his thick, sensuous lips, taking a good, long draught.Somewhere far off in the night-shaded wilderness friskycoyotes barked love songs back and forth, while lustygophers made chattering love in their funk-smellingburrows. Good signs, all.Johnson sagely regarded the flame-licked faces of hisposse, liked what he saw: three men – experienced, dickheavydudes who could cunny-ride. More

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