As I tracked along the worn path like a good ghost, I watched the pack instinctively. I wasn’t lost in thought, I was the eagle as it circled it’s prey.
I moved past around a lose crop of pines. They held my cover from the resting wolves that lay lapping at the blood soaking their paws and fur. I could smell them just by looking at them, though I was still four houndred yards away.
My long rifle was itching in my hands. I could hear her dancing on my shoulder and looking for a reason.
I can’t win every game of poker but I’ve sure got a good shot when I’m done.
A pioneer must do what a pioneer must get done, and this was my long barrel, the law maker true.
My long barrel smelt of the oil I cared for her with. She had come with me on the pioneer trail, from the eastern seaboard of North America. I had bought it from a gun runner who had probably taken it from the dead hands of an Apache. Regardless, it was a good gun. I was never scared the Apache would catch me (they would have recognized it in the way only a warrior can), I was a quick shot. I was afraid they’d catch me and I’d have no ability to fend for our lives.
[note: to read the full epic track my land]