The Night She Came to Camp
The San Gabriel Mountains did not care about you. They never had. They rose from the Los Angeles basin like a wall of granite and chaparral, ancient and indifferent, and they would still be there ten thousand years from now when the last freeway had crumbled to dust and the last skyscraper had been reclaimed by desert. Jack Callahan knew this. He had come to the mountains to remember it. At...
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