“Will you kneel with me?” she said. “I dont ask it.”
“No,” he said.
“I dont ask it. It’s not I who ask it. Kneel with me.”
“No.”
They looked at one another. “Joe,” she said, “for the last time. I dont ask it. Remember that. Kneel with me.”
“No,” he said. Then he saw her arms unfold and her right hand come forth from beneath the shawl. It held an old style, single action, cap-and-ball revolver almost as long and heavier than a small rifle. But the shadow of it and of her arm and hand on the wall did not waver at all, the shadow of both monstrous, the c****d hammer monstrous, backhooked and viciously poised like the arched head of a snake; it did not waver at all. And her eyes did not waver at all. They were as still as the round black ring of the pistol muzzle. But there was no heat in
