A white clapboard house and leaning red barn dot a green expanse.
A brown wedge of roiling dust glides in too fast from the west.
Three cracks of gunshot spread across the prairie but fade to silence by the time they reach the next homestead.
A slower dust wedge is glides west behind the truck towing two fertilizer tanks.
The gruesome sight greeting the deputy sheriff is matched by a more gruesome realization that it is all to feed an addiction that even the dry-lipped toothless junkies don’t really want.