“Revenge, the sweetest morsel to
the mouth that ever was cooked in hell.”
Sir Walter Scott, The Heart of
Mid-Lothian
‘Gutless is what you are,’ Jim
Tanner yelled and crossed the room, peered through the slats at the window and
then turned back to his son. He shook his head and ran a hand over the stubble
on his chin. ‘You craven bastard.’
Ethan
glared back at his father, holding the older man’s eyes with his gaze. ‘I ain’t
no coward,’ he said. ‘Just not a damn fool is all. If I go out there Fury’ll
shoot me down. I’ll have no chance. That ain’t cowardly that’s just good
sense.’
‘Pity
you didn’t show that good sense when you started all this,’ Jim said and bit
the end off a large cigar. He spat tobacco onto the floor, earning himself a
look of reproach from his wife who sat in the far corner, a worried expression
permanently plastered across her once beautiful face. She could tolerate her
husband’s cussing but his vile habit of spitting was best done out of doors.
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