The way he stood, Everett could finally take him in, get the measure of the man. He was tall, six feet or so. His shoulders were broad, axe-handle wide, tapering slightly to a barrel chest. He had a rugged strength built up from years of manual labor, and the body to show for it. His flannel shirt clung to his chest and his arms and was tucked into jeans covered in shotgun leather chaps. Everything was well worn and practical. No fringe, no finery.
