An Abundance of Snows

When there are snows, it rains on the Texas prairie

Keep your head down," Chris whispered. I obeyed, ducking my head below the top of the levee in front of me. In a crouch, Chris moved crab-like up the line to the man on my left. "Keep your head down," I heard him say. There were 10 of us, counting our three guides, spaced about 20 feet apart, crouched in a drainage ditch in the predawn darkness. The trench stretched as straight as a chalk line from the road to the woods, cutting the field in half. We were like World War I doughboys waiting in knee-deep mud for some dawn cataclysm.

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