“Yep,” he grumbled before letting the glove box drop open and pulling out a Magnum revolver.
It was a six-inch barreled Colt Python with a nickel finish that shone from the sun above. The seasoned wooden grip was comfortable in his hand. It had belonged to his father, and it was the only inherited item he was never able to bring himself to pawn, even during the toughest of times.
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