I thought mebbe there was something wrong at the Willows, he said.

[…] Romans novv / Haue Thevves, and Limbes, like to their Anceſtors; / But vvoe the vvhile, our Fathers mindes are dead, / And vve are gouern'd vvith our Mothers ſpirits, / Our yoake, and ſufferance, ſhevv vs VVomaniſh.

Ashleigh! her mother called. Could you bring me a wrap for Slewette's leg from the feed room? Okay! Ashleigh let herself out of Wanderer's stall. She'd check back in a little while to see if the mare had finally eaten anything.

That little fuck-knuckle is into me for eighteen dimes, plus interest