It hadn’t even been called Kentucky back then when the Shawnee still hunted deer over mossy hills and the smoke from their fires could still inspire terror. The latter were saved; but of the former nothing but the blackened stone walls were found standing on the morrow. ‘Ah. "Oh lord! I hope not. And through it all, like a golden thread on a piece of tapestry, weaving in and out of the patterns, the unspoken longing for love.
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