Imagine Robert Ellison’s thoughts.
Pushing cows through the Paisano Pass he was dusty and tired. Near Marfa the lowing cattle settled down for the night upon the Chihuahuan Desert floor as darkness fell.
In 1883, West Texas nights were inky black, punctured occasionally by starry skies and slivers of moon rays.
Suddenly, off in the distance Ellison saw.....
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