Big Zwey ain't quite normal. The man, whose name was Decker, was fat and stone drunk, leading Call to suspect that Goodnight had been right--the shot had been lucky. It was not a restlessness other men could talk to--only a woman could cure it. Most of the crew liked the boy and had decided to treat his frequent weepings as simply a mild aberration, related in some way to his nationality.
She probably didn't want him in the first place, and hadn't asked for this child. Sheriff Owensby stood high above them, looking out the window, mortified that he had allowed hundreds of people to be cheated of a hanging. Maybe she'll be feeling better. There ain't no reward for either of you.
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