‘No need to shake in your boots,’ Gerald said soothingly. McClintock was in a gay mood at dinner that night; but he did not see fit to give these children the true reason. Most of the horses were dead, all but three stallions and two mares left among what was once a thriving stable. She would buy a Greyhound ticket to New Orleans, make a kill or two, then travel into Texas and seduce some wandering man into taking her to Mexico, feast upon him once they got there. That will be a fine day—it will have to be, when first you set eyes on Italy.
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