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By Marcia Muller, Bill Pronzini

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Extra info for Crucifixion River

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Murdock began unharnessing the wagon horse. I took my saddlebags off the piebald first, then I removed bridle and bit, uncinched the saddle, and rubbed down the horse with a burlap sack. ” “You’re seeing it at its worst. ” “I prefer cities. ” “No. ” Murdock stiffened. His hand froze on the bay mare’s halter. “Fine city, Chicago. ” “No,” he said. He finished unharnessing the bay without looking at me, led it into one of the remaining stalls. I ambled over next to Murdock as he measured out a portion of oats.

Kraft pointed his weapon at Nesbitt. What he’d done seemed to have had no effect on the rage and hatred that controlled him. “That’s enough out of you. You and Murdock pick up my wife and carry her outside and put her on my horse. ” I said: “Be reasonable, man. You can’t take her out in this storm…” “Don’t you start in on me, mister, unless you want a bullet, too. We’re leaving here as soon as I…” The rest of what he’d been about to say was lost in another report, not as loud but just as sudden and shocking.

I went to the buffet for coffee, and greeted the man with the banjo. Oh, yes, he truly was good-looking—slender, with chestnut brown hair and a nice smile and a rakish gleam in his eyes. And tall—I had to tilt my head to look up at him. I like tall men, probably because I’m short and a man half a head taller makes me feel protected. ” “Yes. ” “Oh, is that right? ” “Safe in the barn. ” He raised one eyebrow questioningly. ” “That’s a shame. ” “I think so, too. ” “Traveling merchant, if you please.

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