It had always been a peculiarity of her friendship with Augustus. Because it was me he thought of, dying, is no reason to tote his bones all the way to Texas. There's a man who sells horses west of Ogallala. He paused a minute.
That night he made a dry camp in sandy country where the dirt was light-colored, almost white. She felt a flash of anger--why did he keep tying her when she could barely walk? The country had begun to flatten out. When they rode up on the knoll, the smell hit them. Don't you regret it? Augustus asked.
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