fistful of reefer

“Damn, McCutchen. There’s more blood than whiskey in there.” Sheriff Big Benny Lickter entered through the front door of what had originally been the one-room jail but now served as his office just off Del Rio’s town square. He dropped his hat on his desk. “You really know how to wake a sleepy border town.” … Read more Fistful of Reefer: ch.2

Cantinas on either side of the border fascinated Chancho—such important frivolousness. He cupped his shot of tequila, a Reposado rested in American oak, in the palm of his hand while listening to a collision of conversations. Not particularly fond of enclosed spaces, he shut his eyes.   Slurred English came from the direction of the … Read more Fistful of Reefer: ch.1