The scores in the rock from the iron-tired wagon wheels bore mute testimony to the traffic they had born. The ruts worn into the rock were nine to fou...teen inches deep in places. George kept a vigilant eye open for natives as he had been warned that they would attack, kill and strip anyone they thought defenseless.The foraging was good along the trail as the predations of the settlers had faded with time and many foodstuffs discarded along the wayside had taken root. He found potatoes and corn. Why couldn’t I just accept things as they were.I looked around the party, taking in an increasing number of single guys that Jon imported from somewhere, probably from where he worked in radio or football land. I gestured at the men and said to Marcie, “Well, I think you’ll end up not horny by the end of the night. There seem to be a lot to choose from.” I turned to KC, “Both of you,” and then audaciously laughed. KC lightly punched my shoulder.Doug joined us, and we chatted about a couple. More

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