After all, Pinkerton’s Agents are all sissies. He says no, but she’s the baboon with the gun, so he has to obey. She insists that it’s undercover Pinkerton’s Agent Cooper T Davis. She screeches, shrieks, and rampages her way like a badly programmed Robo-Dumbo Super-Terminator She-Ra Destroyer automaton gone berserk, waving her gun, her eyes no doubt wild and filled with insane hysteria (only we call it “spunk and independence” in romance novels like this one, of course), as she tries to find the man who impregnated her sister. A chimpanzee playing with a loaded revolver is like Florence Nightingale with the lamp compared to this Matty. Matty is a Western heroine, and she wastes no time dressing up in some boy’s outfit and holding a gun in a way that sends pure terror in the heart of every sane person. Matilda Rose Applebee will burn in the pit reserved for criminally braindead heroines. The Devil’s bible chronicling the fall of the Western romance genre. This book is a plague from the lowest infernal hell, more like.
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