“HASSELL’S CAMP, “NEAR COLORADO. Everything was fresh and bright, from the kindly manners of the Frutigen cobbler, who hammered mountain nails into her boots, to the unfamiliar wild flowers that spangled the wayside. I hadn’t heard of him before the trial. “No, those are my brother’s dog tags. Her mouth dry, she made her feet walk on, not daring to utter a word.
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