Blood On Mcallister (2013)
“She looked like an innocent child, her hair curled softly about her face and he knew a moment of deep tenderness for her. When he threw his legs over the side of the bed and stood up, she did not stir. He saw himself reflected for a moment in her long mirror and knew that she had been right—he was indeed a savage: the face was that of an Indian. Maybe his father had spoken the truth and his mother had been a Cheyenne. Certainly the eyes were all Indian, black like obsidian. The hard dark body, ...lean with slender muscles of pure stamina, could have been that of a young Cheyenne brave. The hands and feet were those of a whiteman, the hands large and powerful, gnarled by the use of a rope.
He inspected the knife wound that ran angrily down the side of his rib-cage and he had to admit that it didn’t look so good. The center of the long slash was badly contused and where the doctor had resewn it looked horrible. He knew that it could easily go bad on him. But he must get through today somehow.MoreLess
He inspected the knife wound that ran angrily down the side of his rib-cage and he had to admit that it didn’t look so good. The center of the long slash was badly contused and where the doctor had resewn it looked horrible. He knew that it could easily go bad on him. But he must get through today somehow.MoreLess
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