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Show I never saw him again. But his image in the Palace Hotel window has never left my mind. Rexy and I had no more business that afternoon, so at sunset, as the fog began to roll in, we headed back to Almo's Livery on Front Street. I fed and watered Rexy, as I was required each night, and gave her a rubdown, which was not required. Rexy was a beauty-all black with one narrow strip of white down the center of her face. On her neck was a scar which I often wondered about, and I tried to make it up to her with the rubdowns. I think she understood. That night I lingered longer than usual because I wanted to tell Almo about the gold nugget burning in my pocket. He was one of the few people I talked to, I suppose since he and Pa used to talk a lot. I was surprised he didn't call out as soon as I walked in, "What's that burning a hole in your pocket, James?" But tonight he was talking to Old Andy. So I just waved and started home. Maybe I'd tell Mrs, Maxwell. Home at that time was South o1 Market, in a faded green boarding house, clinging to the side of Rincon Hill, a fashionable place for a house fifty years earlier. It was the only green house in a row of pink and orange ones, |