“Hell’s bells, it’s Stormy Wether,” said Tonto, sucking in his breath.
“You know her? I said, then blew into the pocket mask. Her chest rose and fell compliantly.
He shot me a look as he pumped, circulating my breaths through her body. “Are you kidding me? Every man in town knows Stormy Wether. Or at least knows of her. She’s renowned for her choreography.”
“Her choreography?”
“She’s a dancer down at the O.K. Corral.” Tonto finished the cycle of chest compressions and paused while I gave the celebrity two more breaths.
…