Even if the man using it was maybe a thousand years old and could shoot like Buffalo Bill, that word was still up for grabs. Aloud (and in what he hoped was a suitably humble tone of voice) he said: “That’s okay, Blaine. He could only hope that all would see where their self-interest lay. In his hands he held a large bouquet, mostly made up of the wildflowers that grew out on the Drop, but with a scattering of dusky wild roses, as well.
“You can enchant my guns, those of this world, I reckon,” he said. Roland shared out the last of the burritos (Maybe later today we can stop in at the nearest Boing Boing Burgers and see what they’ve got for leftovers, Eddie thought), and they dug in. The vaqs riding behind had already done so. “And your own as well, young masters.
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