Chapter 9
“I won’t miss Whiskey Slide,” I tell Chet as I shake his hand.
“Good luck,” he returns and I climb into the wagon. Two men sit up front while three of us ride in back with our gear. When we get moving, I don’t look back.
It’s rough going with roads so bad. We get stuck so often that we elect to walk alongside as we descend the foothills. It takes most of a day to reach flat ground, and even then, it doesn’t stay flat. The countryside has a rolling tendency, low hills covered in green grass horses love.