Looking back at the cabin, her sad eyes lingered on the lamp over the door. It was dark now, and the white candle that that been in place over the las... ten hated years was missing. In a fit of pique she had thrown the candle into the nearby South Platte, forever removing the stain the flickering light had cast on her life when lit in the evenings.As she lingered, she thought not of the shame and hardship of the last ten years at the small cabin but of the new life promised by the visits first. The Indian celebration started at noon, so I was grateful for the sandwiches that my wives had packed for me. I nibbled on those while I waited for the Indians to start their get-together. Some elderly Comanche in the biggest war bonnet I had ever seen was escorted to the place of honor and seated with much ceremony. I swear that there had to be at least 100 coup-feathers on that war bonnet, and that meant that he was either a very successful killer or a very successful war chief, or maybe even. More

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