Well, now we know how Ennis felt when he got
the postcard.
Heath, I swear.
"Time to hit the hay, cowboy. I got a go."
There were only the two of them on the mountain flying in the euphoric, bitter air, looking down on the hawk's back and the crawling lights of vehicles on the plain below, suspended above ordinary affairs and distant from tame ranch dogs barking in the dark hours. They believed themselves invisible ...