john m floyd

“If he’s sick,” O’Neal said, “maybe he’ll die on his own.” Patty shook her head. “It’s just a cold. Sniffles and sneezes.” They were crouching together in the woods, watching Tom Tennison practice. Even before Patty and Tom were married, he’d practiced two hours every day. Tom Tennison threw knives for the circus. “Colds can […]

Hobbs burst into the one-room cabin, slammed the door behind him, and leaned back against it, his eyes closed and his chest heaving. “Apaches,” he said. “Other side of the river. At least a dozen.” Old Amos Bassett, who had already jumped to his feet, spit out half his biscuit and swallowed the rest whole. […]