A cold windy rain hits me, sinking through the layers I'm wearing. I glance toward Skye who stands with me on the line at the edge of Old Tucson. She's shivering in her coat and hat, her shoulders hunched and her hands stuffed in her pockets. Bishop stands on my other side along with a dozen of my men. Skye's people are maintaining the line while we work. Our visibility is diminished by the rain, but we've decided to move forward with our project anyway. Months of planning have ...