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"
You
?
"
Brown
said
.
"
Huh
.
You
'll
be
too
drunk
to
see
by
dark
.
"
Ollie
said
very
clearly
,
"
Why
do
n't
you
just
shut
up
and
write
down
your
names
?
"
Brown
goggled
at
him
.
Opened
his
mouth
.
Then
decided
,
wisely
,
I
think
,
to
shut
it
again
.
"
It
's
yours
,
"
Miller
said
,
blinking
a
little
at
the
exchange
.
He
handed
it
over
and
Ollie
checked
it
again
,
more
professionally
.
He
put
the
gun
into
his
right-front
pants
pocket
and
slipped
the
cartridge
box
into
his
breast
pocket
,
where
it
made
a
bulge
like
a
pack
of
cigarettes
.
Then
he
leaned
back
against
the
cooler
,
round
face
still
trickling
sweat
,
and
cracked
a
fresh
beer
.
The
sensation
that
I
was
seeing
a
totally
unsuspected
Ollie
Weeks
persisted
.
"
Thank
you
,
Mrs.
Dumfries
,
"
Miller
said
.
"
Do
n't
mention
it
,
"
she
said
,
and
I
thought
fleetingly
that
if
I
were
her
husband
and
proprietor
of
those
green
eyes
and
that
full
figure
,
I
might
not
travel
so
much
.
Giving
your
wife
a
gun
could
be
seen
as
a
ludicrously
symbolic
act
.
"
This
may
be
silly
,
too
,
"
Miller
said
,
turning
back
to
Brown
with
his
clipboard
and
Ollie
with
his
beer
,
"
but
there
are
n't
anything
like
flamethrowers
in
the
place
,
are
there
?
"
"
Ohhh
,
shit
,
"
Buddy
Eagleton
said
,
and
then
went
as
red
as
Amanda
Dumfries
had
done
.
"
What
is
it
?
"
Mike
Haden
asked
.
"
Well
...
until
last
week
we
had
a
whole
case
of
those
little
blowtorches
.
The
kind
you
use
around
your
house
to
solder
leaky
pipes
or
mend
your
exhaust
system
or
whatever
.
You
remember
those
,
Mr.
Brown
?
"
