Two dark sorrel horses leaned into their rigging and pulled the loaded buckboard up the muddy embankment. Brazos Fortune refused to look back. There were no tears in his eyes. That one fact surprised him. Wheels squeaked. Worn boards groaned. Pots and pans rattled. But there was no conversation. Brazos ran his hand through his neatly trimmed, gray-flecked beard and glanced out of the corner of his eye at the young girl in the long, yellow dress sitting next to him. She was looking back. He felt her glove-covered hand reach up and hold on to the sleeve of his canvas coat. “Is that all we do, Daddy? We just drive off?” Her voice fluctuated somewhere between that of a ten-year-old and a girl of fifteen. “Shouldn’t we say good-bye, or something?”
What do You think about Beneath A Dakota Cross (1999)?
