We walked for the bent metal windmill on the horizon, arriving to find a gate closed with a loop of baling wire...They had planned on coming back. I dug a fingernail into grease-blackened candle wax wondering when that might be. We'd found nothing but death around the ranch, corpses of leather-hided cows, and the long, slender-white bones of horses. Even a ranch dog had perished; a little sand dune was built up around it, its pelt burred and bleached by the sun...

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