Next was the room. Dan had chosen kitchen because there was more lighthere than in the bathroom. He covered the floor with some old papers.Later he put everything from his cache on the table: syringe, scalpel,needle, bottle of alcohol, silk thread, band aid, cotton wool, bandage,bottle of Novocain, manicure scissors.Now Dan had to prepare himself. He took two pills of painkiller and onepill of diazepam. He knew from his mom that was a strongest pain killingcombination. His stomach was already churning. But he knew it wasprobably his only chance. He had to overcome his fair. He would praythough he wasn't sure what he had to pray for.He couldn't afford any feebleness. He opened "The veterinary handbook" onpage 168 and read the article "Gelding of the colt" again since he knewit by heart. His pants and underpants were taken away already. Now wasthe time for Novocain. He soaked six milliliters into the syringe,cleaned himself with an alcohol cotton pad and injected the half of itinto left. So, that’s that.Well, there was one more thing. Cayuse opened a buffalo skin pouch. Chippewa markings. Gold coins.I smiled, “Yours.”Rosie couldn’t look in our new mirror. Shielded her eyes every time she passed in front of it. I hadn’t actually noticed it, but when Rebecca turned the mirror to face the wall, she explained things to me. Speaking from my experience back home, I knew mothers could be especially perceptive.Having a breed as a deputy sheriff didn’t cause as much of a local stir as I had thought. For the most part, the townsfolk seemed to appreciate the no-gun policy I’d established for the whole of Little River. A newcomer couldn’t buy a drink, sample a whore, enjoy a meal, until he’d stopped by the new jail at Second and Market.It wasn’t a proper jail yet, funds hadn’t come through for the construction of the cells. But I had a sturdy, padlocked closet inside the Market Street office for holding guns and knives. Rebecca even figured out a system to keep track of whose was.
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