They were gathered to bury Jackson Redclay, one of their own. His family stood grim-faced and unmoving, lost in their own thoughts while the words of ...he white preacher fell uselessly among them. Soon, it was time. Emmett Redclay knelt, and dropped a feathered amulet upon the casket. A scattering of shredded tobacco was followed by a thin, streaming handful of sandy soil, picked up from the pile beside the open grave. Melba Redclay stood with her husband, her face a cold mask. Tears ran in. "That's the truth," I said.The two officers emerged with the young woman in the long cape between them. I looked into her face and her eyes seemed to plead for help, but she stepped into the carriage silently and the men followed quickly. The driver climbed up to his seat and took his whip from the socket. I followed the other man to the back, spun him around, hit him in the belly and then the chin, rolled him into the ditch, grabbed his hat and climbed to the high seat with his small pistol in. More

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