Once that was established it was kill him or just go along with his ways. The drive needed him so no one was willing to pay me to kill him. That made ...oing along the easiest thing to do. Over the weeks we had forged a kind of friendship. Not the kind where you talk about things because the Indian almost never spoke. Rather the kind that allowed us to ride for hours together without trying to kill each other. The Indian finished his horse then took a look at my horses hooves. He made a single. His words seemed to flow like soft warm butter into her ears, soothing, hypnotic; she was aware that he was telling her not to think of what she - they - had seen, of Jack's and Sue's joint infidelity but the vision was nonetheless there, unerasable, brought into crystal clarity by his soporific voice instead of dimmed into her subconscious. She didn't want to think about it, God knew that, but she just couldn't help it... she just couldn't help it. She sobbed into the thin material of Bob. More

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