Then he hardened his expression.
"Let your arm hang loose." Bull Hunter obeyed.

The hand came just above the holster that was strapped on his thigh.

All these weeks Pete Reeve had kept him from going an instant without that gun except when he slept.

And even when he slept the gun had to be under his pillow.
"Because it helps to have it near all the time," Pete had explained.
"It sort of soaks into your dreams.

It's never out of your mind.