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You Smoke a Deer by Hand, One Damp Chip at a Time, Because Ice Is a Thousand Miles Behind You
Published 1 month ago
Description
Late October, 1844. Somewhere along the bottomlands of the Platte, two days east of Fort Laramie. The wind has teeth in it now, and the cottonwood leaves have gone the color of old leather. You wake because the fire has burned down to a whisper and the cold has found the small of your back. […]