"The first wagon trains left in January. There were just a few in the beginning, and they proceeded with caution, fording the San Joaquin River, navigating the canyons and switchbacks of the high Sierras, and traversing the salt flats and creosote scrub of the Great Basin before descending, at last, over the rocky peaks and into the the fertile loam of the southern plains. What they couldn’t carry with them—ocean-going yachts, car elevators, labradoodles—they’d simply discarded. Someday, maybe, when the time was right, they would return to the California they’d fled, to the Ocean-front estates and climate-controlled wine cellars they’d left behind. But for now, their sights were set on a new homeland where men, and sometimes even women, were free. Texas."