She was the same age as Martha. I thought back sometimes to the day when I had chased Pete off the ranch, but had relented when Hattie found me in tow... and begged me to let them return to the line shack to live. Such a wise move. I had made other wise moves since the time I had turned on the two men who were about to do Jessie and her grandfather harm. Chet Comstock was nearing seventy now and Pat, the drunk I had picked out of the saloon in Button Box seven years ago, was at least. Dust thick and untouched for some years coated everything. In the wardrobe, when opened, hung a strange display of chains, cuffs, a range of branding irons, straps, whips, tawse, clamps, hoods and the like. Tim whistled, then together, they wandered back to the other door. They exchanged glances, then Tim opened the door, it led to a home cinema, three rows of old red twin cinema ‘back row of the flea pit’ type seats, in rows ten wide, a tall screen in front and a projector behind them on. More

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