“Mrs. Wilde asked Spurr later as she finished eating and set her plate aside, brushing her greasy hands across her sun-faded, dusty denims. “I reckon I am at that,” Spurr said with a sigh. “Are you a good tracker?” “Few better. Maybe Kit Carson, but he’s dead.” “Then I’m going with you.” She stared across the fire at him. Her face could have been made of granite, for all the emotion it displayed. No emotion, only hard resolve. Spurr studied her as he ran his last bit of rabbit around in the last... of the beans on his plate with his fork. “So that’s what all this is about—you being out here.” She gave an expression as though he’d been crazy to question it. “Oh, I have to get my boy back. He’s probably terrified half to death. He’s all I have, you see. I’m all he has.” Spurr stared across the glowing coals at her. “But I thought…” He let his voice trail away, instinctively knowing that he should leave the thought unfinished. Maybe he was wrong in his assumptions; maybe the Vultures really did have her son.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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