Gold MountainChapter 9
Purdy POA “Brightman, I hear it was you, you and Peterson and the kid ... you three saved me.” Purdy lay propped on a pillow wedged against the elevated head of his hospital bed. He seemed shrunken, withered, lost among the bandages and glaring-white sling that supported his left arm. “Not entirely, Purdy. Patch did a lot to keep you from bleeding out. You know he was hurt pretty badly himself. His face, his hands...” “Yeh, durned ol’ fool. He coulda bled out, too. How’s he doin’?” “Fine,...