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Marlin Barton


Slow Waltz

Drinking was not my husband's ruin, as some have claimed, and nothing he ate that day made him any sicker than he already was, nor did the shot the doctor finally gave him do any more harm than he had already done himself, though some have claimed [...]

A Shooting

Phil Anderson wiped the thin layer of sweat from his face with a white handkerchief and looked again out the window from inside the dark of the store. His father-in-law, whom he always called Mr. Wilkie, sat beside him in a cane-bottom chair. Phil [...]