My cousin, Tommy, lay on his back, his hands up by his head. His eyes were closed. My arm strained under the weight of his body. I struggled to stay in control of myself as I rolled him off of me with my good arm, and took a good look at his torn, bloody shirt, his black eye, and his slack jaw. My body began to tremble and my head spun. With Tommy gone, there was no one shoot the buffalo on the railroad, and that meant no free ride. I certainly had no money for a ticket, and even if I did, they were all sold out anyway.

I looked down at Tommy’s bag, and , with a sudden new hope, reached inside. But of course that man had taken all of our spare change. More tears came, but, ashamed and trying to be brave, I wiped them away. “Tommy, you fool boy. Why did you do it? Why did you chase him?â€? I whispered to the body sprawled in front of me. A sudden searing pain ran through my arm and I realized it must be broken. I need a doctor… a voice in my head said. I moaned.