"Where in the hell is our clothes?”
“They burned ’em,” Greybull said mournfully.
“Burned ’em! Why didn’t they just boil ’em good? I ain’t had them clothes on more’n a month.”
“You feel all right, Preacher?”
“Oh, hell, yes, Bull. I’m fine. I’m sittin’ here nekked as a jaybird, a gaggle of females done burned my clothes, and a half-crazy woman is makin’ improper advances toward me. I never felt better.”
— Jan 30, 2026 09:28AM
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