Chapter Three The Northern Waste

The man in gray picked up a water bag and walked toward Jack. "One dollar a bag." "High price." "Next water is two days off." Jack nodded. "So you figure I have no choice." The man's smile stiffened. "I didn't say that." "You didn't have to." Jack tossed a silver coin. It turned in the firelight. The gray-coated man reached to catch it. The instant his eyes followed the coin upward, Jack drew. He did not fire. He smashed the barrel of the Colt into the man's throat. The man dropped to his knees, clutching his neck, and the water bag fell. The "woman" on the left pulled a shotgun from under the skirt. Jack snatched a burning stick from the fire and flung it. Sparks exploded.