Her name is Denorah. Her dad used to tell her she was supposed to have been Deborah, since that was the name of one of her dead aunts, but his handwriting had never been so good, and then he’d smile that sharp-at-the-right-side smile that had probably been killer in high school, a hundred thousand beers ago. Her dad is Gabriel Cross Guns. He’s the one who shot the hole in your back, took your legs away.
