“I take it back, Woodrow,” Augustus said. “I have no doubt you’ll miss me. You’ll probably die of boredom this winter and I’ll never get to Clara’s orchard
“‘Well, Call, I guess they forgot us, like they forgot the Alamo,’ Augustus said.
‘Why wouldn’t they?’ Call asked. ‘We ain’t been around.’
‘That ain’t the reason—the reason is we didn’t die.‘”
“I want to be buried in Clara’s Orchard . . . Yes, that’s my favor to you. It’s the kind of job you was made for, that nobody else could do or even try . . .”