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发帖数: 121 | 1 http://www.theatlantic.com/issues/97nov/proulx.htm
IN the long unfurling of his life, from tight-wound kid hustler in a wool suit
riding the train out of Cheyenne to geriatric limper in this spooled-out year,
Mero had kicked down thoughts of the place where he began, a so-called ranch
on strange ground at the south hinge of the Big Horns. He'd got himself out of
there in 1936, had gone to a war and come back, married and married again (and
again), made money in boilers and air-duct cleaning and |
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