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The White Feather Hex
The White Feather Hex
The White Feather Hex
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The White Feather Hex

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For a few seconds, however, the tall stranger seemed to lose all of his cockiness, and a somber look crept over his jovial features. “Have you ever heard of the hex of the white feather?”
LanguageEnglish
Release dateOct 19, 2016
ISBN9781682995396
The White Feather Hex
Author

Don Peterson

Great Falls historian Don Peterson, working with the archives of The History Museum and images from private collections, presents here a collection of vintage images illustrating the journey of Great Falls from a busy industrial and rail center to a modern suburb. This volume showcases not only the Missouri River, but Great Falls� evolution as a city, along with the sense of community that has always been a source of pride in this singular place.

Read more from Don Peterson

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    Book preview

    The White Feather Hex - Don Peterson

    The White Feather Hex

    by Don Peterson

    Start Publishing LLC

    Copyright © 2015 by Start Publishing LLC

    All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.

    First Start Publishing eBook edition July 2015

    Start Publishing is a registered trademark of Start Publishing LLC

    Manufactured in the United States of America

    10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

    ISBN 13: 

    The White Feather Hex

    by Don Peterson

    It all started with a Dutchman, a Pennsylvania Dutchman named Peter Scheinberger, who tilled a weather beaten farm back in the hills.

    A strong, wiry man he was—his arms were knotted sections of solid hickory forming themselves into gnarled hands and twisted stubs of fingers. His furrowed brow, dried by the sun and cracked in a million places by the wind was well irrigated by long rivulets of sweat. When he went forth in the fields behind his horse and plow, it wasn’t long before his hair was plastered down firmly to his scalp. The salty water poured out of the deep rings in his ruddy neck and ran down his dark brown back. As he grew older the skin peeled and grew loose. It hung on him in folds like the brittle hide of a rhino.

    It seemed that the more years he spent in his fields behind the plow horse, the more he

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