The Henry repeating rifle's.44/40 did that to a man.I shot the young buck near yellow-mane. Her head jerked up and somehow our eyes met. She knew the ...an who shot him. The buck fell at her feet, but he wasn't dead. He was clawing at the dirt. Yellow-mane scrambled to her feet, dragging the coffle toward him. She rolled him on his back, pulled his knife from his belt, and cut his throat clean as a whistle. She stood over him and watched him die.Some Indians tried to reach their horses to escape,. Time, and time again, I watched as he raised his hand to tuck the errant strands behind his ears, but in the end, he gave up, with a shrug of his shoulders and bent down once more to the task of knocking in the tent pegs. I could see his muscles playing under his clingy t-shirt, the material stretching tightly across his back each time he swung the mallet downwards. I swallowed deeply and scrubbed harder. The muscles were bunching in his arms with the effort of his movements and I could see the. More

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