The Lass in the Glass

I loaded my troubles in a Sixty-Three Ford, If truth could be told, I think I was bored. At thirty below, there ain’t much to do, ‘cept git in a fight with a Great Northern crew. The cowboys and hookers and Chippewa-Cree, Won’t hang around with someone like me. Drove toward Chinook, but I couldn’tContinue reading “The Lass in the Glass”