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2671a9d Ned was always an admirer of sunrises. From his first days in the West when he was a runaway boy, he had been gladdened by the dawn over the prairie. He loved the beauty as the day began to break, the black sky softening into gray, the faint streak of yellow light, then flash following flash of violent color - rose and purple and magenta - as far as the eye could reach. He never failed to hold his breath as the sun slid over the horizon lik.. Sandra Dallas