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At last Charlie grew tired of watching the old rancher twist in the dirt, and cut off Teddy’s head with a butcher’s knife. He made the old man’s body continue to dance about, but he no longer found it amusing. In the second hour, he shut all but four of the remaining ranch hands in the mess hall and sealed it with wards at the door and at each of the windows. He set the building on fire and stood at the edge of the flames listening to the shrieks of the burning men.
The man on the ground wasn’t dead yet, but Ned Hemingway was nearly unrecognizable. Half his head was a pulpy mess that reminded Roy of beef stew. Moses was busy picking big splinters of wood out of his friend’s face, and Roy turned to scan the building behind them. It looked like a rifle round had blown out the corner of the sheriff’s office, and it wasn’t hard to figure out that Ned had been standing in the wrong place and caught a face full of wood.
Joe guessed the stone Willie sat on was as far from his body as he could get. “I have a farmhouse down south,” he said. “It’s not much, but I like it pretty well.” Willie grinned at him and hopped up. Joe found the essence of dittany in his pocket and said the words Sadie Grace had taught him, then Willie left his body behind and they walked away together.

