A second blow landed and tears formed in the woman’s eyes. A third stroke landed and his mother’s eyes begged Gerard for mercy, a fourth, a fifth,...a sixth. It was obvious Tim was using all his strength, a strength no one knew a twelve year old could muster, to release the ghosts of fear, pain and hate from his system. The blows landed faster, harder, a thunderstorm of belt strokes beat the pillow of memories until, after some thirty of so blows, Tim dropped the belt and in a panting breath. That evening I killed one of the bull bisons that came to close and threatened the horses. That night I ate a huge steak and hung several in a brush made smoker. I went back to work on the lion pelt and then the bison’s. Over the next five days I had to kill two more bisons, one because it charged me.It was mid afternoon when I saw the smoke ahead. I heard the distant yelling and screams even before I rounded the clump of trees and saw the wagons. There were twenty men riding around them. More

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