by Richard S. Prather
I wasn't too happy to be looking down the barrel of every gunman in California's pistol and when I heard them humming murder music on their lips, the melody was sour and I knew it was being dedicated to only one man--me. That gangdom had it all planned out. They'd even measured me for a grave I was supposed to share with a fiery redhead, Coral. There isn't much I wouldn't share with a spicy beauty, but this time I was willing to pass that up to save my life.
Erin Morgenstern
Virginia Evans
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