and i sit up as high in the saddle as i can- and i think about her riding away from me on davy 's horse- i think of her broken ankles- i think of us saying we 'd never part , not even in our heads- i think of her fingers twirling round mine- ( i do n't think about what she 'd say if she knew i let the mayor go- ) i just think viola- i think viola- right at the spackle on the horned creacher- i think- viola !