Her mind invoked her husband, who she imagined lying dead in a ditch somewhere, tortured and killed by brigands or perhaps eaten by creatures like herself, a fate he actually deserved. “HASSELL’S CAMP, “NEAR COLORADO. From then on he was Ruth's dog. She had never been "My child" or "My dear"; always her name—Ruth. "I will bear the body. Hopefully. ’ ‘Don’t count on it.
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