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" I know Baby. It's so unfair. I wish I could do something to help."By this time Mary was really sobbing. Mom had long since scooted her chair over and was holding Mary to her chest, letting her cry it out.I hadn't seen Mary react to the rape before. I'd seen the fear of contact, of having a male, any male in the vicinity. And it looked like we were working through that if we hadn't already.At first I thought it was anger. But that's not where she was. She was confused. Because it didn't make sense. She had done the right things. She found a boy she enjoyed being with. She was just starting to explore the male-female relationship in all its glory. I don't even know if they'd kissed yet. And then their whole world fell apart because five evil men did what they did best. They were evil to them. And that didn't make sense to someone who was raised with and lived by "Do unto others as you would have others do unto you."Mary was still crying against mom. It was something she'd been holding. It was a comfort to have him at my side and I knew he was hurting as much as I was over the death of his mother.It was almost an hour before we hit the reservation boundary. Three hours later we were well into the Indian land. We were having a hard time trailing the killers' hoof prints now because they were being obliterated by more horse tracks. The Indians had picked up the trail and were following the robbers. Just before dark, we came upon a dead man beside the trail laying in a ditch. "That's not the man who was riding the horse that killed your wife."I dismounted and looked him over. I couldn't see much for marks on him except for some blood that had dribbled down his chest from coughing his life away. We stripped off his shirt and he had three small bullet holes in his back. One had bounced off his right shoulder blade and apparently done no damage. The other two though, had gone in and probably punctured a lung on his right side. "Looks as though Cynthia Bellows killed this.
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