تحميل كتاب Shiloh pdf 1991م - 1443هـ Shiloh The day Shiloh come, we're having us a big Sunday dinner. Dara Lynn's dipping bread in her glass of cold tea, the way she likes, and Becky pushes her beans up over the edge of her plate in her rush to get 'em down. Ma gives us her scolding look. "bust once in my life," she says, "I'd like to see a bite of food go direct from the dish into somebody's mouth without a de- tour of any kind." She's looking at me when she says it, though. It isn't that I don't like fried rabbit. Like it fine. I just don't want to bite down on buckshot, is all, and I'm checking each piece. "I looked that rabbit over good, Marty, and you won't find any buckshot in that thigh," Dad says, buttering his bread. "I shot him in the neck." Somehow I wish he hadn't said that. I push the meat from one side of my plate to the other, through the sweet potatoes and back again. "Did it die right off?" I ask, knowing I can't eat at all unless it had. he day Shiloh come, we're having us a big Sunday "Soon enough. "You shoot its head clean off?" Dara Lynn asks. She's like that. .
عرض المزيدعن الكاتب مؤلف أجنبي
