Oswell looked north and then south. Other than an older couple who were walking toward the saloon at the end of the avenue, he saw nobody. The rancher approached the horses.
Big Abe’s stentorian exhortations were audible through the shut door. The pitch of his voice mirrored the lyric when he said, “Raise those hands, hold them high, and drop them down, so darn low. But don’t you dare fall in love. No, no, no—not just yet!”
Oswell neared the horses. One lay upon the ground, kicking its hooves sideways across the dirt. Its intestines were strung out like pink and gray ropes in all directions, and a few loops were tangled about its rear fetlocks. The other horse was upright and currently dragging its hanging entrails across the ground while it confusedly whickered. Both of these animals be
