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Thank you, Hank

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  The sun was at his back as Hank rode the horse he called My Bay Mare over the crest of the ridge. It was 1890 and already a brisk mid-October. He was gonna have to find a place to stay for the winter. Stopping just over the top he looked down on the small cabin in the valley. There was a young woman off her porch out front with a shotgun and two cowboy types on horses in front of her.

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