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"So your old man is one of them 'Jesus freaks,' eh?" said the balding man to the young woman in the blue dress.
He spat the words out of his mouth, as if they were something that tasted bad, causing the woman to turn away from the distinguished looking gentleman she'd been talking to. Then he just sat there, leering at her, with a sour expression on his face as he adjusted the wire rimmed spectacles that were falling off the end of his pointed nose.
"That's right, he is," said the young woman as the wheel of the stagecoach hit a bump, forcing all three of its passengers to come up off of the seat and settle back down again.
She adjusted her blue bonnet and glared back at the man, her eyes sparkling with anticipation, her lips curling up into a smile.
"He still has a nasty temper, though."
