Don Rafael snapped his fingers. Two gunmen appeared in the doorway behind him. Their hands hovered over their holsters like spiders over flies.
He turned his back and walked toward the door. For a moment, Don Rafael’s hand twitched toward his own hidden derringer. libro vaquero
He was waiting.
"This," Bruno said. "Honor doesn't melt." Don Rafael snapped his fingers
Bruno stood up. He took a small, tarnished star from his pocket—the remnants of his old sheriff’s badge, melted and twisted. He placed it on the table. libro vaquero