"Well, June has been pretty dull so far. Reckon it's time to come out of the closet," Clint Danner said in the lazy, deep drawl that marked his deliberate, unshakable decisions. The nine o'clock Saturday morning "shooters" in Lilah's Billiards stopped playing eight ball to watch him with keen, narrow eyed interest. Because when Clint used that dark whiskey raspy tone and stood to his six footthree inch height, he had conceived a plan and something was going to happen—"sure as shootin'." When Clint "set his mind to it," folks in Green Tomato, Oklahoma, waited for the earth to tremble and tornadoes to begin. He'd used that veloper out of town and when he'd fought a cowkiller blizzard to save stranded cattle and when he'd rounded up Martin Lacy's rampaging bull.
Lilah stopped balancing her business's bank statement to watch Clint Danner. He methodically placed aside his cue stick in the personalized holder on the wall rack. Though his father and his brother had ...
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