By Stephen Frey
After relocating to Montana to begin a brand new existence, former litigator Hunter Lee uncovers a small town's soiled mystery, that wooded area fires are being set to generate income. He units out on a trip to reveal the to blame that may try each mental and actual ability he has and positioned him in direct clash with humans he cares such a lot deeply approximately.
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Like I said, less than a million. I think there’s like twenty-six million people in Texas and around thirty-five in California, but there’s under a million here. Bozeman’s our biggest city, and it only has about a hundred thousand people in it and a lot of them are pilgrims. Outsiders, I mean. It’s our one cosmopolitan city,” Strat said sarcastically. A curious look came to his face. “By the 43 way, why was the Bridger trial in Bozeman? ” “The railroad claimed they wouldn’t get a fair trial here,” Hunter answered, still staring out at the beautiful landscape.
And the slopes to the peaks are gentle, easy to hike, you don’t have to climb at all until you get near the top. ” The look in Strat’s eyes intensified as he went to his glass again. “But about twenty miles the other side of those two peaks, the valley starts getting narrower and the slopes up to the peaks get steeper. ” He waved at the peaks with the hand holding the cigarette, leaving a smoke trail. “For the last quarter of a mile on the north side of the river the bank’s only about thirty feet wide.
He pulled a half-full pack of Camels from the pocket of his tattered green flannel shirt and tapped one out, then tossed the pack on the table and lit up. “Kate, I’ll take a—” “I know, I know,” she interrupted in a spicy tone as she made it to the table. “The usual. ” She put her hand on Hunter’s shoulder. ” she asked, her voice turning friendly. ” “That would be—” “Now wait just a damn minute, Kate,” Strat cut in, dropping the match into an ashtray and taking a big first puff. “Is that any way to treat your best customer?
Hell's Gate by Stephen Frey