Pete did as he was told. Reese, Ruth, and Pete gathered behind the store counter beneath the cigarette and cigar display.

The door smashed in. Boots stomped on floorboards. Guns. Dogs. Shouting. Swearing men. Howling. The dark figures were aiming rifles at Paul, who was covering Eulah. They were screaming for him to move away from the woman.

Hounds made baying noises. One man kicked Paul in the ribs. Then he kicked him in the thigh and jammed a rifle between his shoulder blades.

Paul hollered over the sound of the dogs. “The woman, she’s sick.”

The man shouted something again, pressing a rifle deeper into Paul’s cheek.

“We’re friendly!” yelled Paul. “Don’t hurt the woman! She’s sick!”

But these men were not interested in reasoning. One man crawled atop Paul and tore into him with both fists. Paul could feel the bones in his face being tested.

Then a shot rang out.

Then silence.

The men stood against the wall.

Paul checked his body and felt no wounds. He ran his hands along his shoulders and chest. He looked at Eulah and inspected her body. She was untouched too. Another gun pop.

And another.

“That kid shot me!” shouted one dark figure. “Shot me in the elbow!”

Paul glanced toward the front of the store.

Pete stood strong, pistol pressed against the head of a man with brown curly hair. Pete held the man in a choke hold, gun touching his temple. The man wore big eyes and a terrified face. The other men saw this, dropped their weapons, and raised their hands.

“Who’s laughing now?” Pete said.

Forty-One
Mothers and Daughters

Marigold touched Helen’s belly. The other girls marveled at Helen’s round stomach. Over the winter months, Helen had gradually quit participating in the day-to-day activities with men that took place at Cowikee’s.

Motherhood, even in its early stages, was changing her. Often she wore happy looks that made her seem twenty years younger than she was. And the lines on her face seemed to disappear too. Her hair had more curl to it. Her skin had a healthy hue. She was new.

Laughing Girl let her Indian eyes rest on Helen. “I have never seen Helen in such good spirits.” Laughing Girl’s long dark hair was braided behind her in a ponytail that stretched to her knees. She knelt beside Marigold and placed her hands beside Marigold’s.

“I’m trying to feel,” said Marigold.

“Feel what?” said Laughing Girl.

“I don’t know. It’s sorta like saying hi.”

Laughing Girl concentrated on her own hands. Her long braid coiled itself on the floor beside her. “What happens to your hands?”

A hush fell over the other girls. Marigold guessed they had all wanted to ask this same question but were too afraid.