They had reached the sink.
“Worst time of all to get here,” Gus said. “Not a lake, but not dry either. Garrett, we’re gonna have ta go ‘round it.”
Sam looked at the wagon master. He was gazing intently at the marshy landscape before them. The wind came up and blew across the wet muck in their direction. Sam winced, covering his mouth and nose. The stench was terrible. Behind him, he could hear the exclamations of disgust as the smell spread through the train.
“Let’s move on,” Garrett said with a gritty determination, raising his hand and signaling the train to roll. “The sooner we get by this, the better off we’ll be.”
It took two days to pass the sink. Many had become nauseous from the putrid smell emanating from the dead lakebed. All were relieved to leave the sink behind them. What
