April 4, my eighteenth birthday. Took its own sweet time rolling around. Talk about Indian time! They was pretty good years, till a drunk ran my old man off the road two summers back. They always talk about drunk Indians killing white folks. Well, this whitey wiped out my mom and dad, two brothers, and an aunt. Only reason I not laying over in the graveyard with them, I was out to my uncle’s place helping him catch a pony. Been with him ever since. My aunt was his woman, and since they didn’t have kids, him and me was all we had left.
At first, things was okay with him, but then he took to the bottle to make the hurt go away. Damned near everything went but the hurt. His old pickup broke down and was rusting away on blocks in front of the house. His job dried up. They couldn’t abide never
