Frank stepped down off his horse and let the reins drop. He knew the horse wouldn’t move again unless he called it or remounted.Frank saw the tracks...easily. He recognized Tulip’s tracks instantly and took a breath. Then he walked up to the man and bent over to look at the others. They were on a well-defined path that wound its way through small trees and rocks, some as big as a horse.The man pointed. “Those are from Bobby’s horse - my son,” he said, pointing. “And those over there,” he pointed. In the end, what was inspiring about Birdwell was not what he'd written,but how much he'd written. How dedicated he was to putting down hisobservations and the meticulous way in which he did so, taking it onfaith that his effort wasn't wasted. And it wasn't wasted, was it? Hispoetry, if serving no other purpose, had given value to his otherwisereclusive and seemingly threadbare life. He wrote without any audience,without any hope of an audience, without any encouragement, certainly; infact,. The man stood up and put his arm around her waist while Todd gave her a thick roll of bills. The man said his thanks and walked off. At some point, Janice and Trazelle had also disappeared, but Max didn't notice until he realized he and Todd were alone."What just happened?" Max asked."Max, my boy, I am a god. Ten years! They agreed to ten fucking years!"Max's heart skipped a beat. "Ten years? Did you say ten years?" That I did." Todd took Max's untouched drink and downed it. He slapped Max's. "I didn't see Claire again. She left the clinic right after that, and I suppose she only took the job to have access to the donor files and ultimately her chosendonor, me.The second occasion came after about a year and was similar in its outcome, but very different in its manner. I was attended to by Jenny who I'd only seen in passing as she'd never dealt with me before. When I was stripped, Jenny shocked me by hitching up her skirt and bending forward over the table."Hurry up Keith," she.