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You Melt Your Last Lead Into Balls by the Fire and Miss the Only Deer You See for a Week
Published 1 month, 1 week ago
Description
You wake because the mold is lying empty between your boots, and the morning is cold enough that the last ball of lead you cast last night has a dull skin of frost on it. September 3, 1849. Somewhere east of South Pass, on the dry side of the Wind River range, where the sagebrush […]