Eagle People Read Online Free PDF

thirty minutes later, he had Calvin tied to his horse and was moving back up the trail.
    His thigh ached, but he had nothing for the pain, so he clinched his teeth and continued riding.  His biggest concern wasn't pain, but infection. The Eagle People had alcohol and marihuana for pain, and once back in camp he'd have a few drinks. Alcohol they'd learned how to make from the books taken from the library, as well as information about using weed for medical purposes. Marihuana grew wild in Missouri, so they'd transplanted some at the village and it'd grown well. In the field, alcohol was the normal painkiller, because not many of The People smoked.
    When he entered camp, the others approached from where they'd been hiding and Thomas asked, “Lee's dead, huh?”
    “Arrow in the lungs. We did happen to find a warrior of the Wolf Clan, so I brought him back for Mongoose to talk with about the guns. The guns are the only reason he's still alive.”
    “How badly are you hit?” Wilson asked as he neared.
    “Bad enough. If you'll all see to Lee and the captive, I'm going to treat my injury.”
    Wilson laughed and said, “I think not. Let me handle the doctoring and you do the pain, okay?”
    Amon dismounted and almost fell on his ass because his leg collapsed, and if not for his horse, he'd have landed in the mud. “Pain's getting sharp now and I need a drink, or I'm going to pass out.”
    “Help me get him to the fire” Wilson said, looking at Baker.
    Each took a side and slipped his arms over their necks. They then walked him to the shelter and placed him on a blanket. Wilson placed a pot of water on to boil, pulled a quart jar of alcohol out and then poured a tin cup full for Amon.
    “Drink this, and I'll give you another in a few minutes. First, I want to see how deep your wound is and consider my options. Your right arm is losing blood too; did you know that?”
    “I remember, but the arm doesn't hurt like the leg.” Amon said, and then knocked the rest of his drink back.
    “You keep drinking like that, and the lights will go out pretty quick. That's some strong shit you're throwing back like water.”
    “I hurt, so passing out would be a blessing in many ways.”
    “Looks like the blade went into the leg about three inches. I'll sew you together here, but the shaman might cauterize you later.”
    Amon nodded, gave an alcohol induced grin, and said, “Give me another drink. I can't believe how bad that leg hurts.”
    Shaking his head, Wilson replied, “This injury will hurt even more come morning. The leg will stiffen and you'll have a fever too.” He handed Amon another cup of whiskey.
    “No matter; we have to return and tell Mongoose what we discovered at the village. If need be, tie me to my horse.”
    Nodding, Wilson replied, “It will be done. Now, relax as much as you can, while I sew your injury closed. I will sew the two arm injuries as well.”
    The thread used was old and most was gather up by unraveling cotton material from clothing made years ago or even ancient thin nylon fishing line or ropes. More than once, horse hair from the tail or mane was used.  Any thin, but strong, material could be used, as long as it would go through the eye of a needle.
    When he sewed Amon up, Wilson admired the mans grit, because he knew the job hurt and all he heard from the man was an occasional moan or gasp.  A half an hour later, the job done, he poured another cup of the strong home brew and said, “Drink this and get some rest. The prisoner will be cared for by us. We'll leave an hour before first light.”

    Morning was cool, but the rain had moved on, and the sky was clear of any clouds. Baker was on point and Thomas rode drag, with Amon sitting crooked in his saddle as Wilson rode beside him. Calvin was still hogtied over his horse and could be heard grunting and groaning from pain.
    Finally, Amon said, “Give the prisoner some whiskey. I'm not doing it so much out of kindness, but to keep the noise