Long Clay adjusted the telescopic sight of his rifle, and weak moonlight glowed within his right eye like a cataract. “You need to understand our tactic.” “We trust you,” said Stevie. “You need to know it fully,” the gunfighter replied, “in case I get put down.” “Okay,” replied Stevie and Dolores. “Go ‘head.” Brent was certain that he was about to hear the machinations of evil. “On an instinctual level,” Long Clay said, “a man fears torture and disfigurement more than he fears death. He can imagine what it’s like to be branded, because he’s burned himself; he can imagine what’s its like to be
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