When I finished my story, John slapped me on the back in a friendly gesture and walked away into the shadows to be alone for a while.The rest of the t...ip to Independence was unremarkable. We met no more Bushwhackers and the journey was completed with the whole train coming through unscathed. This was indeed a rarity, and John's reputation was made as a wagonmaster. He had vaulted to the top of his profession and would be in demand as long as he wanted to guide wagon trains. His specialty was. As soaked as me. Ahead. Bolder, one must admit with a sense of chagrin. Younger, it must be said because everything counts and nothing does. Lovely and perfect regardless.The tent lies ahead, reaching into the sky, circusy and colourful, striped, slanted, big. The edges turned up slightly, bulging down and arcing up, water collected in the distended material, water balloons sighing with envy. She glances back at me, catching my gaze for a second. Something glistens in her eye slightly, from the. More

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