Jeremiah reached out and shoved it up into the berth. She looked at him as if she was shocked.“I could have gotten my baggage into the berth, but th...nk you just the same.”She spoke with a different accent than Jeremiah. He’d never been around many people from other countries, living his entire life in Dakota Territory. He did recognize the Irish accent, having met a few Irish prospectors in the Black Hills, looking to strike it rich as they panned for gold.“Are you and your husband from. He read the inscription before his eyes. ' Mary Smith. Hanged for murder. Thirty-first October, eighteen seventy-three.' "Well," he said to himself, "I'm here. Now, where are those fucking car keys." Still on his knees, Andy searched through the damp grass, looking for his lost keys in the darkness. Touching something that felt familiar he was puzzled momentarily before it dawned on him what he felt beneath his hand. A foot. A cold, lifeless foot, as cold and smooth as marble. A stature, he. More

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