“How do you feel now?” the boy said.
“Better,” Jock said. “My power is strong again.” He could feel that his fever and arthritis had retreated. Best yet, his piles had shrunk. They would leave at first light.
“Sleep a little more,” the boy said. “I"ll keep watch.”
Jock was weary, but not so fatigued that he needed to sleep. He wanted to talk. Jock remembered how good he felt all those years ago, made stronger and confident by the Chiricahua, when he"d come into his manhood and claimed Miriam"s hand.
Jock gestured with his arm. “I became a warrior in these parts, back in 1867.”
“Was it hard? Were you afraid?”
“I was prepared, and I was tested, but no, I wasn"t afraid when I went out. Remember, I"d been with the Cherokee in the Civil War.”
“Tell me about it?”
Jock counted off on his
