Indeed, he told me nothing at all. He was angry. “How’s Mrs. Are these folks your current foster parents?” “Yes. To his consternation, she was holding an unwieldy, ugly-looking pistol, all wood and tarnished steel, with both hands about the butt. No other white people within twenty miles. Here was one that subtly mocked her. Keeping to the shadow of the house, he crept forward until he could see better without, he hoped, being seen.
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