THE DEAD MAN S JOURNEY Journada del Muerte, the locals called it: the blistering ocean of sand and sage between the Rio Grande River to the west and the Sacramento mountain range to the east. The bones of men and horses had bleached in the mile-high desert for three hundred years. Spanish conquis...
AFTER FOUR DAYS IN the haunting silence of his father’s empty house, Patrick brooded about how long it might take, precisely. By Tuesday, January 22nd, the night wind whining across the roof sounded like a woman crying. Patrick as a grown man of twenty-five years lay awake in his bedroll on his f...
Admiral Hauch shrugged wearily. Three nights of midnight meetings were darkly written upon his face. “Joe, would you, please?” Joseph Vazzo extracted a notebook from his briefcase. Opening the binder inscribed “Confidential Cables,” he addressed the midnight assembly of officers and diplomats. Th...