The café was a new-age place, with all kinds of healing juices, and sandwiches Reacher figured had been put together by a blind man. All kinds of random ingredients. Huge seeds in the bread. Like sawdust mixed with ball bearings. === “You think virtue is its own reward?” “I don’t know much about virtue. I just want to find out what happened. I can’t charge money for a private satisfaction.” === “Who are they?” “Cowboys,” Reacher said. “Weaned on beef jerky and fried rattlesnake.” === “Cowboys are the worst,” Reacher said. “Not much I can do to them, that a horse already hasn’t.” === Sometimes you woke up, and you knew for sure, from history and experience and weary intuition, that the brand new day would bring nothing good at all.