Westward 

He had bought a ticket to go west. A one-way ticket to freedom and open skies. Sitting on the train, sitting by the window, he kept his cap pulled down and hoped no one would see the soft curves of his face. They would see the heavy work pants and shirt and the cap and never once think anything but young man. His eyes were on the skies now, on the low clouds that hung over the prairies. This was his new home, this place where the sky went on forever. Here, he would be free.

Stepping off the train, his rough boots touched the ground and he pulled his cap down again. Freedom would still have a price. Anonymity. But it was a price he was willing to pay. No one would ever know what had happened to the precocious daughter of the Greenbriar family and no one would ever know where Michael Green had come from.

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