The hills were alive with cowboys and banjoes. The loaded mules trudging across the mountain where a shepherd tended sheep. Such are pastoral pictures printed in the mind. Yet, here he was, showing off his 1926 Willys, around town, in search of a job. A new century was trudging through town: trains rumbled-by spilling coal; no passenger service, no memory of WW1, the vets of WW2 on death's door, WW3 on the horizon. But there were still cowboys, still real shepherds, and Adin's phone just pinged with a job offer to run a mule train to a remote fire tower.
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