A bit from Smyle

Eyes still closed, Garrett muttered, “Less than a day now.”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t know where we search. I don’t know what we do. There are no loose threads. There’s nothing left to chase.”

Murphy’s head sank down on his chin. “I don’t know either.”

Somewhere in the high grass, a red crossbill chirp chirp chirped and goats stamped at the mud from a light overnight rain. From a horse trailer, a few mares set to be sold down near Dillon shuffled as best they could manage. The whole place smelled of s...