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Page 13
Chapter One
1858
Her thirst woke Abby Wynne. Until a few days ago, she had never imagined such dryness. Her skin seemed like brittle paper wrapped about her body, and she felt sluggish, as though her blood had thickened for lack of moisture. She sat up in her bedroll beneath the high base of the covered wagon. Sleep had provided a temporary respite, but now that she was awake, her misery had returned.
For the past eight days, the caravan had rolled through the desert along the Spanish Trail in the state of California. The wagons had carried ample water for the first five days, and the Indian guide, Hunwet, had assured the emigrants he knew of a small stream that would allow them to replenish their supply.
But the stream had been dry. Hunwet, of the

 
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