Simon hated cities. He hated towns. As they trudged through the humid cold streets of Houston he thought of the property near the Red River and it gave him comfort. It was as if he already owned it and this incident was only a temporary setback. There would be a spring of clear water and around it great pecan trees, deer would bed down in the post-oak mottes at night. Wild horses would tread the smoking earth in dimly seen caravans, the breath of the great brown buffalo drifting white in the winter air.
Trauma coping mechanism.
