"Why not something more than partners, after a while, Jack?"
She smiled strangely up to him.
"Because of this, Dick."
And fumbling at her throat, she showed him the glittering metal of the
cross.
"The cross goes on, but what of you, Jack?" A long silence fell
between them. Words died in the making.
The great weight pressing down on that slender throat was like the
iron hand of a giant, but slowly, one by one, the sounds marshalled
themselves:
"...God knows..." It was the passing of Judgment. "God knows...not I."
Epilogue
But what of the legendary gunfighter, McGurk? How could the spirit of
any man survive that terrible defeat at the hands of Red Pierre?
After that night, when he had walked from the dark heart of the
mountain without horse or gun, head bowed, eyes glazed, it seemed that
the life of Bob McGurk had burned down to black ash.
Indeed, no one heard of him for five long years. Then, phoenix-like,
he was reborn in fire, emerging in the raw border country of Texas.
His rebirth was spectacular.
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