Chapter 1A man in reasonable health with fifteen minutes to spare could walk across Crows Landing without breaking a sweat. Give the man in question an extra twenty minutes, and he could knock on the door of every house in the town, introduce himself, meet the family, accept a graciously offered glass of water, and turn down an invitation to dinner for later that night. When Dario Russo had been sixteen, he had gone to each one of those homes and knocked on each one of those doors, looking for work. He had done everything from cleaning chicken coops to mowing lawns, and never had more than a few dollars to show for it at the end of the day. He was quite sure that if he approached those doors now, he would see the same faces, only slightly changed by the passage of thirty years.
Or maybe t
