I returned to Sawyer's Gap.Years passed.In five years, the run-down elementary school grew into several bright new classroom buildings.With the money Robert had given me when the engagement ended, I established an education fund for girls whose families couldn't afford the supplies and travel they needed to stay in school.My days were simple, but they were full.Every year, the school received an enormous anonymous donation, along with boxes of new books and teaching equipment.There was never a return address or a name.I knew who sent them anyway.I didn't turn the supplies away. The children needed them.But I never sent a reply, not even a single word.Some chances, once lost, are gone for good.In autumn, the cottonwoods in the desert grove turned a brilliant gold, as vivid as a painting.I brought the children into the trees to sketch.The breeze rattled the yellow leaves overhead.One little boy tugged at my sleeve and pointed toward the dunes."Ms. Hart, look
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