Erikson nodded slowly. “I might do that. I just might.”
“Anytime,” Hazel said. She gave Erikson her big, Hazel smile. “Come on, horseman. Before you get into an argument with the government.”
“I’m not so sure about the ranch,” I demurred. “The White Pine county sheriff might still be taking an interest in me.”
“No, he won’t,” Erikson said. “Uncle Sammie may come up short on the cash, but his umbrella has no holes in it.”
“Now, isn’t that nice to know?” Hazel said to me sweetly. She tugged at my arm. “Come on. A girl has to have some privacy while she’s getting her lumps.”
Karl Erikson and I exchanged half-salutes, and Hazel and I walked back down the hospital corridor to the elevator.
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Copyright © 1969 by Fawcett Publications, Inc.
Copyright Registration Renewed © 1997 by Robert Ragan
All rights reserved.
This is a work of fiction.
Names, characters, corporations, institutions, organizations, events, or locales in this novel are either the product of the author’s imagination or, if real, used fictitiously. The resemblance of any character to actual persons (living or dead) is entirely coincidental.
eISBN 10: 1-4405-4215-5
eISBN 13: 978-1-4405-4215-2
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