Rosi

84%
Flag icon
“We got to ride in the parlor car with the railroad nabobs. Treated to antelope chops and cold Krug, and I sat and observed starving Indians begging at the Wichita station.” Deaver slammed the newspaper down on top of his sketchbook. “How is it?” he asked. “How is it we do this to the original inhabitants of this continent?”
The Color of Lightning
Rate this book
Clear rating
Open Preview