Angielski
Vengeance was in the humid night air of the Louisiana bayou, but it wasn't the kind Charlie Buck wanted. Before them, lit by the glowing coals of the campfire and stark light of the full moon, three men lay asleep. A fourth man, sitting with a rifle propped over his shoulder, was asleep too. Charlie glanced over at his companion, the strange Voodoo doctor he had met just before the attack. The man's black torso was bare except for the large snake curled around his neck. Despite the heat, Charlie shivered. All he wanted was to find was his father's murderer. But it was complicated. The clues had led to two places: the bayou and the cathedral in New Orleans. Guilt pointed at the priest. Charlie could not accept that. Where did Voodoo, and of all things, counterfeit money, fit with his Father's murder? His mind touched momentarily on the memory of his lost love, Rachel. She was still here too, just as beautiful as ever. But she was in love with his brother, another one of his suspects. Too many questions and not enough answers. Still, here he was. Charlie Buck drew his Colt and cocked the hammer.
