Vera Dunway has a hand-drawn map on the back of a feed store receipt, the memory of a dying man's voice, and a thousand people who believe her.That is the entire evidence that Sable Basin exists.Ninety-one miles of frozen road stand between her column and a hanging valley in the Talkeetna foothills where a hot spring runs year round and four people could hold the only way in against four hundred. Behind her, twelve hundred survivors have already become a thousand and six. Every morning she calls the count. Every morning the number is smaller.Then somebody drops a bridge in front of her wagons and nails a plywood sign to the guardrail. TURN AROUND. And underneath it: WE COUNTED YOU.Whoever is out there has been watching long enough to know she has children, grain, and forty rifles for a thousand people. They take people east in wagons. The wagons come back empty on an eleven day schedule, all summer, like clockwork.Then a stranger walks out of the black spruce leading her runaway son's horse.He calls himself Yolando. And he just might be the last hope that Vera and her people have.
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