Five hours west into high plains the Sand Hills break against sky like frozen surf. Fossilized backbones of dinosaurs appear like half-finished giants. White road stripes are spaced like vertebrae. I arrive in Hoxie as the snow begins. Two highways cross here.
Cattle trucks pass and pickups with gunracks.
In a diner men wear muddy rubber boots that reach to the thigh. The pies are homemade and the lettuce sent from Denver. Fresh Ostrich Steaks. From a Ranch in WaKeeney . The waitress asks if I want it rare or well done.