QUOTE : Mister, you’re a dead man.” Chapter 2 The steel pressed hard and cold against Connell’s head. He’d been in plenty of dangerous situations, but this was the first time anyone had ever threatened to blow out his brains. The twenty-four-inch-long rifle with its octagon barrel chambered fifteen ready-to-fire cartridges. But at this range, all it would take was one shot and he’d be a dead man. “No one touches Lily”— the man jabbed the tip into Connell’s temple, grinding it into his throbbing pulse—“and lives to tell about it.” The old man grabbed the rope that entangled them. He grunted and twisted it before finally pulling it free. Then he extended a hand to the woman and hoisted her to her feet. All the while, neither his Winchester nor his murderous eyes shifted so much as a thousandth of an inch from Connell. Finally, in all of the shifting, the dirty socks fell away from his head and gave him a clear glimpse of the woman. She untangled her skirt and smoothed down the folds of flowery calico, but not before he caught sight of her long knit socks, which strangely enough were striped in parallel rows of bright yellow and orange and green and purple. “Now, Oren, there’s no need to kill him.” She patted the man’s arm. “At least not tonight.” He muttered under the big mustache that hung over his upper lip but didn’t move the gun. “I agree,” Connell said. “And really, I don’t see that there’s ever going to be a need to kill me.