“He’s captured it, sí. But mythical it is not.” He pulled up his sleeve to reveal marks that looked as if a tiger had mauled him. Old marks, healed now, like a hideous brand, claimed by a hideous master. “No, I can say no more. Just leave me. I wouldn’t return there for all the […]
Read MoreChapter One West Texas Plains Near Fort Davis, May 1870 Captain Easton mounts a brief rise and squints at the burning stagecoach. “Apaches,” barks Sergeant Kennedy, as both survey the vast stretch of gramma, cactus, and yuccas. Overhead a May sun flattens the smoke into a splay of drifting, feathering gray. Mary’s stage? Kennedy […]
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