Eyes of the Wilderness
Act I I was the first one there. The sun was coming over the canyon rim when I heard Billy Calloway cry out. I was checking my fence line on the south ridge, and the sound carried up from the riverbed like a whistle. Not a call for help. Not yet. Just a cry that broke the morning in half. I walked down the slope. My horse, a roan mare I called Rusty, stood where I'd left her, grazing on the dry...
0 Commentarios 0 Acciones 4 Views 0 Vista previa