The Faded Road
The leather case bit into Elias Thorne’s shoulder as he shouldered it, the weight of the theodolite and the heavy brass chain dragging against the damp wool of his coat. He did not look back at the farmhouse, though he knew Martha was standing on the porch, her hands gripping the white picket rail, watching the red dust settle behind the wagon. The air in the highlands was thin and tasted of...
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