The trail led northwest toward the Arkansas, easy to follow even in the twilight. He loved to watch the old man whittle. I like the thought of having the first ranch north of the Yellowstone. By that little grove of live oaks on the south Guadalupe.
Yet there it was, and from time to time it shoved into his brain. Where's Blue Duck, Lorie? he asked. Jake flared up again. Another month and we'd have it dug.
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