“Riding over the knob earlier and seeing the steamboat anchored off Sandy Shoals had given him a shock. He had suspected it was just a matter of time before steam travel took over the river, but he hadn’t realized that day might be just around the corner. They never saw more than an occasional keelboat this time of year, so the steamboat crowd had been a surprise, not just to him, but everyone at Sandy Shoals. “ ’Nother whiskey.” A short, balding, obnoxious man standing at the counter in front o...f Hunter tapped his glass impatiently on the stained wood bar. “Three-shot limit,” Hunter told him as he moved to pour a glass for a traveler farther down the line. “I never heard of such a thing,” the short man sputtered, his fingers clutching the empty whiskey glass. He’d already had his share and was showing the effects. “It’s my post and my liquor. I figure I can make whatever rules I want.” Hunter wasn’t in the mood to argue. Luther walked up beside him and crossed his arms over his chest.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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