"Are you all right?" Mavis Engstrom was smiling up at her. "No hurry."
I'll have to see them again. Look at them again. Only this time it will be daylight and close up. If the judge asks me to identify any of them, I won't be able to. I never saw their faces...
When she thought back to that night, she started to shake all over again. Gunshots in the night, voices hollering horrible things, grabbing her rifle and returning fire, the searing pain of a bullet in her arm, the wagon burning so brightly she could see men on horseback circling the cabin, the Engstroms coming over the hill but too late to do much more than scare off the intruders and pull the burning wagon away from the cabin. Then passing out from loss of blood and agony.
All that was left from her lifetime of years in the Wild West Show had burned up that night, along with the wagon she'd traveled in and lived in. The scenes of churning, crackling chaos and loss were branded on her memory. But mostly the fear and the anger. Who would do such a thing and why? All because of Chief and Runs Like a Deer. Why hate Indians like that? What difference did it make to those men if Indians lived at the Bar E Ranch?
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