Campaign Chronicles

By the time the convoy reached Poplar Bluff, the sun had disappeared below the horizon. Twelve hours on the road had taken their toll. The highways had deteriorated considerably since leaving Omaha this morning, and the last hundred miles had been particularly unpleasant. Broken pavement, abandoned vehicles, and stretches of roadway slowly being reclaimed by the surrounding forest had reduced their progress to a crawl. Most of Poplar Bluff was dark. The convoy passed empty storefronts, boarded-up businesses, and houses whose roofs had long since collapsed. Trees grew through the pavement in places, their roots pushing apart the asphalt. Then, along North Main Street, they came upon something unexpected. An old house stood behind a neatly maintained lawn.The grass had been freshly mowed. The shrubs were trimmed. There wasn't a scrap of litter anywhere on the grounds. Warm yellow light shone through the windows. A sign near the sidewalk identified the building. MARGARET HARWELL ...