August saves the squaw

Now he was praying that she would live. Gradually his breathing slowed to near normal.

The sqaw was spralled out on her back, her water soaked buckskin skirt twisted about her small waist. He noticed a beaded pouch on yucca twine around her neck, he surmised it was a talisman of some sort.

August rolled onto his side then got to his knees. He placed his head on her chest listening for a heartbeat. Her skin felt clammy and her heart was fluttering. He worked his hands beneath her and scooched her up until her legs were out of the water, then he turned her onto her stomach, staddled her, and began pressing her back with rhythmic regularity.

He noticed that his hard calloused hands nearly covered her back. He pressed and released, pressed and released. He felt his efforts were feeble, but he continued, hoping for a sign she was recovering.

He thought of several indians he had killed without a second thought; this was the first time he had ever tried to save one.

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