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160 pages, Kindle Edition
First published October 1, 1949
He rode into our valley in the summer of ’89. I was a kid then, barely topping the backboard of father’s old chuck-wagon…. In that clear Wyoming air I could see him plainly, though he was still several miles away…. He came steadily on, straight through the town without slackening pace, until he reached the fork a half-mile below our place. One branch turned left across the river ford and on to Luke Fletcher’s big spread. The other bore ahead along the right bank where we homesteaders had pegged our claims in a row up the valley. He hesitated briefly, studying his choice, and moved again steadily on our side.