She looked around. “We haven’t got a Bible…You know about this saddle.”
I nodded. “A hand-made Quantrell, with silver stirrups and rivets and studs, and you won it at Pendleton in nineteen forty-seven.”
“I sure did. My biggest day, that was.” She cupped her palm over the horn and aimed her eyes at me. “If I shot that Brodell toad may this saddle mold up and rot and stink and get maggots, so help me God.”
A classic Nero Wolfe mystery by Rex Stout and one of my favorites!
Cheers & Happy Reading!
Flossie Benton Rogers, Conjuring the Magic with Spirited Stories
