Sheriff Cole's voice exuded calm as he turned me around to face him. His face wouldn't stay in focus but, hell, I didn't care. It wasn't Zeke with the gun, it was Cole - and he was grinning.
If I wasn't crying so much I'd have asked what happened.
"Everything's fine." Cole reported.
He's reading minds now.
Through my tears, a blurred Mickey's helping Clint to a chair and pouring him whisky.
I'm about to ask "Where's mine?" when I realise my lips hurt. Shit, everything hurts.
So I simply ask "Is it over?" and, still grinning, Cole nods.