The Rainbearer
The dust that summer in Kansas did not blow. It hung in the air like a suspended verdict, golden and suffocating, waiting for someone to pass sentence. The sky had not rained in ninety-three days. The earth had cracked into a mosaic of failure, and Thomas O'Connell's corn was dying with its roots still in the ground. He was twenty-eight, which in the Depression meant he was older than most of...
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