The dust of Kansas did not care about your ancestry. It settled on Sean O'Malley's shoulders the same way it settled on Patrick Delaney's and Big Mike Donovan's. It was the great equalizer, the kind of truth that required no argument.
Sean was thirty-two when he bought forty acres outside a town called Hope, which was either a good omen or a cruel joke depending on the season. He had inherited twelve hundred dollars from his uncle in Boston and a conviction that land should belong to the people who worked it, not the men who bought it. Pat arrived on the first Saturday with a dented suitcase and a discharge paper from the...
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