One sip of coffee and Everett’s throat spasmed, clenching around the bitterness, the oil-slick tar that filled his mouth. He coughed, rolling to the side in case he couldn’t keep it down. Laughter hit him. Lawrence, brushing the horses. Trigger preened under his touch, shaking his head. “Cowboy coffee,” Lawrence called. “It’ll peel paint off a barn. But it will also wake you up, get you goin’.”
