T.W. knew what the Widow Evertson meant.
With her free hand, she took his hat and placed it on the chair that it had only moments ago vacated. “Please sit back down.”
T.W. returned to his seat and faced the Widow Evertson, who summarily drank from her glass of wine without complaint.
The two of them talked until the saloon closed. The woman’s name was Meredith.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Guns for the Holy Lamb
“The town was built east to west,” Lingham said as the four men on horseback traversed the Montana plain. “The first permanent building they put up was the church.”
Oswell had recommended that they circumvent the town of Trailspur for their night journey, and consequently they rode a mile from its limits and paralleled its southern border as they proceeded due east.
Laden with luggage
