Snow sifting through thorns:: old couple:: no need to speak of odor of roses.
Rescuing Ellen Sheridan’s Cat
When JoDee Dees rode up to the gate, the bottle the hunter left was still sitting on the post. His eyes went to it the way eyes do to something they didn’t know they were expecting. He blinked, shifted in his saddle. JoDee focused on Ephraim Sheridan’s three cows, one steer, and two calves strung … Continue reading Rescuing Ellen Sheridan’s Cat