Twenty-FourThings happened quickly over the course of the next few days.
Jasper, keeping his g*n trained on Dixon, insisted the others tied the Marshal up.
“There has to be another way,” said Arabella.
But Jasper wasn't having any of it. He instructed his son Rupert how to tie the knots, as both the older Morris boys, crunched up in tight balls beside their father's wagon, writhed in their own vomit and diarrhoea. When he'd finished Rupert stepped away, looked towards his friends, face ashen. “What is happening?”
Whilst Arabella rushed backwards and forwards with damp rags soaked in boiling water from an iron pot sitting upon the campfire, Dixon sat against Jasper's front wheel and watched. “I seen this before,” he said through clenched teeth.
“You shut up,” said Jasper, the g*n shaki
