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3 AM, Martha sat beside me and took my hand.
“Tell me about her,” she whispered. “Anna.”
“She laughed a lot. Like the twins. She could ride better than me. She smelled like rain.”
“She would have loved what you did today.”
“She would have taken you in herself and yelled at me for making you sleep in the bunkhouse.”
Dawn came slow and grey. Then I heard continue reading …
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