Chapter 16: Intimate Letters
Next to the graphic photographs was a stack of hand-written letters. There were about twenty in all from the past year, maybe even more. Each was written in blue ink on notebook paper and signed by Tracy L. Rydeman. I picked up the stack, thumbing through curiously. They weren’t in order. I grabbed three at random, sat on a corner of Pax’s queen-size mattress, and began to read.
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February 7, 20—
Thank you again, Pax, for driving to Tulsa this past weekend. I can’t tell you how much fun I’ve had. It’s such a pity that after all our cowboy gigs and laughter together that you have to make the trip back to Riding Ranch alone. It kills me that I can’t go with you, and that I’m left to myself in this city without you. Sometimes I want to quit what I’m doin
