John Hansen
Twenty-two years now. They’d made a new life for themselves since leaving the wickedness of the Montana gold fields. Close to utopic it was, at least from their humble expectation of how things should be. And then the past, thought long dead by Sarah, resurrected itself. It was like God was the ultimate schoolmarm and with one clean sweep erased all the good on her blackboard of life. Surly, there would be forgiveness, So, you’d think.
