Темная башня: Стрелок

           Hebounditwithastripofshirtandthenstraightenedandexaminedhiskill.

           Theytrailedinatwisted,zigzaggingpathfromthebackdoorofthebarbershoptowherehestood.Theylayinallpositions.Noneofthemseemedtobesleeping.

           Hefollowedthemback,countingashewent.Inthegeneralstoreonemanlaywithhisarmswrappedlovinglyaroundthecrackedcandyjarhehaddraggeddownwithhim.

           Heendedupwherehehadstarted,inthemiddleofthedesertedmainstreetHehadshotandkilledthirty-ninemen,fourteenwomen,andfivechildren.HehadshotandkilledeveryoneinTull.

           Asickish-sweetodorcametohimonthefirstofthedry,stirringwind.Hefollowedit,thenlookedupandnodded.ThedecayingbodyofNortwasspread-eagledatoptheplankroofofSheb’s,crucifiedwithwoodenpegs.Mouthandeyeswereopen.Alargeandpurpleclovenhoofhadbeenpressedintotheskinofhisgrimyforehead.

           Hewalkedoutoftown.Hismulewasstandinginaclumpofweedaboutfortyyardsoutalongtheremnantofthecoachroad.ThegunslingerleditbacktoKennerly’s.stable.Outside,thewindwasplayingaragtimetune.HeputthemuleupandwentbacktoSheb’s.Hefoundaladderinthebackshed,wentuptotheroof,andcutNortdown.Thebodywaslighterthanabagofsticks.Hetumbleditdowntojointhecommonpeople.Thenhewentbackinside,atehamburgersanddrankthreebeerswhilethelightfailedandthesandbegantofly.ThatnighthesleptinthebedwhereheandAlliehadlain.Hehadnodreams