‘m down in a dark low place, a plywood and benchwork cavern under the hills between Darby and Elkview, looking for reefer cars off my Pacific Fruit Express run which was turned into tossed salad by a miss-thrown turnout. Several cars were derailed in the tunnel and one had hit the floor. On my knees in the dusty dark, it was then that I saw it. Tucked in the corner opposite me, under the town of Harris, the dull ivory of ancient bones amid a scattering of Indian war bonnets, rusting tomahawks and flint arrowheads. It was an Indian burial […]