I think it’s a working title.
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Chihuahuan Desert
June, 1861 AD
It’s never colder in the desert than dawn. As the sun pulls itself over the mountains a man can fancy he can hear the frost puff away into the thirsty air. Everything’s thirsty, in the desert. Even the purples and golds you only see at daybreak and dusk look soft and crumbly, like a can of paint left out in the sun to half-dry. The desert craves water, and it doesn’t care how it gets it; and so it was with no real surprise that Hank Bailey saw how quickly Jimmy’s blood had sunk into the desert ground.