The Golden Visit
"You're late, Dolores. The dust is already settling on the ledgers." Dolores Talamantes stood in the doorway of the archive, the collar of her uniform frayed at the neck. She did not answer. She looked at Captain Rivas, who sat behind a desk piled high with paper, the light from the single gas lamp casting long, jagged shadows against the loess-cliff walls of the room. The air was thick, heavy...
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