Nearby was the famous Valley of Tears, spoken of with anguish by such captives as had been recovered. Call saddled the Hell Bitch anyway and rode around the herd to see that all was in place. When he got within fifteen miles of Lonesome Dove he cut west, thinking they would be holding the herd in that direction. Clara and Call would both be stiff with them for a week after such a carouse; Clara, if anything, softened slower than Call.
If she was watching the stars, as he was, why wouldn't she know that he was thinking of her? The longer he lay awake, the stranger he felt. It was not likely she would ever inquire at all about him, even if he stepped out the door and vanished for a year. A horse needed a name. Saddle these men's horses, Call said to the boy.
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