Pioche, Nevada tethered him to solid ground. Solitude had been hard to find anyplace else.
He shed the usual longing to be elsewhere. The contentment the town provided took some getting used to. This was no Reno.
No more wondering where to drift off to next or trying to find a good memory that hadn’t been ruined.
When he walked through town at the end of the day, when there was still a patch of dull lemon light in the sky, he ran into silver miners and gunslingers.
Men who brought their own burdens to Pioche, Nevada a century ago and now spoke with the haunted voices of another age.
He heard them telling him not to be a slave to chance.
