Secondhand Sunsets

West.

Heading west.

Put the past behind you.

Start over.

In nose-biting pre-dawn cold, Ray's rap sounded. Out front waited a new wagon. Abby buttoned her wool coat and bonnet, doubled Papa's traveling blanket over her arm with her parasol, and crossed the threshold for the last time. Ray hoisted her trunk as she clambered into the buckboard.

He was no gentleman-no surprise to that. Through hushed streets, past Annabelle's house, the silent empty clapboard church, and beyond the new train depot, ...