Billy nodded, sliding the pistol back into its holster on his hip. "One minute. I'll meet cha at the house. I gotta grab somethin' off Westwood." With that, he slunk into the meadow, whistling quietly for the stallion to come to him. Once near, Billy grabbed the three heavy bags of gold that were slung over the horse's back. Creeping back to the side of the house and out of sight, he stashed the stolen loot under the front porch to ensure its safe keeping. Money safe, Billy hurried up the path and to the house to meet Elizabeth. "Now, then. When is this bastard due to be home? I'd love to put a bullet in 'em." He cracked his knuckles as Elizabeth led him into the house, always hating when men treat women like such.
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Westwood, in the mean time, was grazing on the dead grass in the pasture, again still fully tacked. Trotting over to the fence where a water trough was, he took a good few minutes downing thirsty gulps of water, his ears rotating alertly. In the daylight, his black coat shone with sweat.