The hold-up had went bad. The money and our dynamite was gone. Jodie dead. Ted B.
So I was on foot, walking through the desert after the horse went down.
Someone in the hills kept flashing me in the eyes with a mirror or something shiny. Probably one of those sorry-ass injuns, half-drunk. Couldn't see sh*t off that.
Stumbled over a rattler. Felt the tips of its fangs. Luckily, my boot leather took the bite. I felt the cold venom shooting down my leg, dampening my pants leg too.