The Devil’s Laughter: a Lou Prophet Novel (2012)
“All he could see of his eyes were two tiny, stiletto-like glints beneath the man’s heavy brow. The moonlight silvered the left curl of the man’s handlebar mustache and lay in a thin line atop the barrel of the Colt in the man’s right hand, aimed at Prophet’s heart.
Prophet slowly took up the slack in his trigger finger as raw fury throbbed in his ears. He thought he could hear Chacin increasing the tension on his own six-shooter, and the throbbing in the bounty hunter’s ears grew louder.
“Boys, boys,” Louisa said, “if you can’t hold your booze you oughta stick to sarsaparilla.”
Prophet held the Rurale captain’s glowering stare for another five seconds. But the girl’s calmly cajoling voice had thrust a lance through the tension that had fallen like a hot, wet blanket over the little camp in the rocky arroyo, relieving it. Chacin’s lips spread, lifting the curled ends of his mustache and showing his fang-like, yellow eyeteeth. The silver stilettos in his eyes grew faintly smaller.
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