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Were dealing with Cactus Jack now. A lot of men would worry about something like that, but for the life of me, I cant imagine Jack doing this. Lets face it. Clint Bonner sprawled in the leather chair with one long, denim-clad leg flopped over More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page Las Vegas Review Journal the arm. He thought of himself league of extraordinary gentlemen
a Clint in the manner of Eastwood-a tough-ass Texas billionaire. He lit a thin black cigar-these were as close as he could come to the evil little numbers Yul Brynner smoked in The Magnificent Seven-and blew three small perfect More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page Las Vegas Review Journal rings of sweet smoke. Guilty conscience, Flub said. The broad-shouldered Flub was the may pole
of the two brothers, a shrewd competitor. His real name was Norbert, which he hated, but he got his nickname playing Pop Warner football. Once, after he had unaccountably dropped the ball in More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page Las Vegas Review Journal the open field, he had told Cactus Jack that he had simply flubbed. There was no other explanation. vaniqa
then on he was Flub Bonner. We could accuse him of having a conscience. Thatd croak the old fucker. Clint grinned sardonically and regarded his sweet, black cigar. More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page Las Vegas Review Journal Clint and Flub enjoyed scheming, an inheritance from their father they hadnt fully been able to exercise owing to the provisions of his will. I danny gaines
see that we have to worry a whole lot. Who in helld think wed pull Jacks plug so we could give More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page Las Vegas Review Journal away a half-billion bucks? Shit, Clint, wed have to be off our nut. If we dont fight the provision, who will? Flub opened the folder that contained Lucien Salvants autobiography. tyrone mckenzie
you just look at the poop on this poor son of a bitch. Pathetic bastard. More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page Las Vegas Review Journal He sailed the record of Salvants life across the room to his brother. Clint leafed through the autobiography. He shook his head. Jesus, can you imagine? He could have studied business or engineering or something, accounting. He dalmation coast
have gotten somewhere. Made a few bucks. So what More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page More Page Las Vegas Review Journal does he do? He sits around jawing about James Gould Cozzens and Nelson Algren. Clint shook his head. Doesnt have the brains to pour piss out of a boot with the directions written on.
