“Rolland! Stop!” Mama shouted, but, whether he heard the order or not, he didn’a listen. Rolland was a runaway train, listening to no one and nothing. Mama ran after him, even while the posse continued shooting.
She got behind him and jumped on his back. Pulling at the tubes and bolts with her hands. Rolland paid her no mind, as if she were a gnat buzzin’ round his ears.
“Lizzie,” she yelled, still clinging to Rolland’s back. … Read More