They journeyed on through the heart of Missouri, traveling alongside highway 54 heading towards the state capitol. It was nearing the middle of the afternoon, overcast, and a bit chilly on this autumn day. Trotting along, something caught Lynn’s eye at the top of the...
As the horsemen caravan entered the quaint, tiny town at the border of Missouri, a rumble sounded from Tim’s stomach. Lifting his wrist, his watch read 4:12. The horses trotted past the faded wooded sign beneath a cluster of trees to the left. “Welcome to Seneca.”...
April 1996 The sound of the rolling cart approached his cell for what seemed like hours, stopping at 30-second intervals for each inmate to make a haphazard selection. He hadn’t accepted a book yet in his few weeks at the penitentiary, but a sense of solace beckoned...
The dust cloud extended hundreds of yards out in front of them, like a lingering jet stream hovering just above ground. A rusted, old pickup truck rounded the high sand dune next to them and within seconds was pulling up next to the traveling caravan. The window...
The sound of forks clanking against porcelain overtook the tiny mobile home kitchen. Tim added more pepper to his ribeye and pulled his chair a little closer to the table, clearing his throat. “Cindy, what would it be like crossing the desert up to Elko?” he inquired,...
The high noon sun beat down on the pack string with a blaze of August heat. Nearing the edge of the Redwoods the trees were beginning to scatter farther apart now providing less amounts of shade. Tim’s green, plaid shirt clung to his back in a pool of sweat. The crew...