The air was hot and clear without the humidity that had plagued everything unmercifully the last few days. Especially on the first nice day he’d seen in a week of downpours. He wasn’t in the mood to bury women and children. The memory of that particular odor lingered in his memory, etched there in a moment that had defined his whole life.īreeze tossed his head. June nights could still be cool.Īt least the wind blew from his back, sparing him the stench of the decomposing bodies, but he didn’t need the wind to remind him what he was missing. The serapes and state of the bodies probably meant the attack had come at dawn. Their colorful serapes blazed red and yellow in the bright sunshine. Charred black, they were just more skeletons on a landscape used to absorbing the death of hope.įrom where he sat, Sam could see two bodies bloating in the June heat. The burnt-out shells of two wagons lay tipped on their sides in a loosely stacked V. Today it lay spread across the hollow before him in a perfect example of how miserable people could be to one another. Whether or not he was getting tired of death didn’t seem to matter. Taking a draw on his cigarette, Sam surveyed the scene below the rise. The horse tossed his head and sidestepped a protest.
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