Three Diablos Page

They never robbed banks. They stole choices .

Maybe— maybe —they’ll ride on.

was the fire. Her pistols were custom-forged from lightning-struck iron. When she laughed—a sharp, bright sound—sparks literally flew from her teeth. She didn’t shoot to kill. She shot to ignite . Wagons. Whiskey barrels. Hope. three diablos

Just tip your hat, set down your whiskey, and whisper: “Not tonight, Diablos.” They never robbed banks

You’d wake up after a night with the Diablos with your saddle turned backward, your horse’s mane braided with thorny roses, and a strange coin on your tongue. You’d remember nothing except the feeling of being played with . set down your whiskey