Roberta Muir

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Now she’s ordered up beside the major who’s mounted on his fine black mare. When you see a horse like that you know you been riding a sorry nag all through Nebraska and Wyoming. Her coat gleams in the silvery glamour of the snow-light. It’s a long time since I rode with the major and all the old
Roberta Muir
Bistfkry
Days Without End: AN IRISH TIMES BEST IRISH BOOK OF THE 21ST CENTURY
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