Road Kill

“Which way did he ride off after he left?” Billy continued.

“South,” said his father, “Probably in Bakersfield by now.”

“Or Vegas,” continued Uncle Earl.

“Nope,” Billy’s father corrected him. “ Too far. It’s a long way to Vegas.”

“Humph,” Billy grunted, and he walked away.

Bakersfield. Or Vegas. It was a long way to Vegas, and nobody came through here to get there. They’d either have to go over Heidelberg Pass or south through Wilfred Heights and out 15. Or through Death Valley, which in this heat made even less sense.

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