I was bleeding from several places where the bullets hit me. I was still standing but the old Indian said, “hurry” and I did.
I had stumbled on their compound where they were holding stolen cattle and they were not very neighborly. In fact, they were so un-neighborly they started sending bullets my way. They had been chasing me for what seemed like a half day and was getting really weak when the old Indian appeared and said, “come now” and I did.
He was a strange man with fierce eyes and a faraway look but he moved with the agility of a mountain goat. Suddenly by the wall of canyon rock he stopped and waited for me. Then without a word he held my shoulders and took me through to what I can only call another dimension.
I looked so forward to getting my driver's license at the age of sixteen, like all of my friends did. With only eight months left, I asked my friend Donny to show me how to drive. I didn't know that I needed a permit to drive.
My friend Donny at 17 drove a stick shift Chevy. He drove me out into the country and got out of the driver's seat, opened the passenger side and helped me into the driver's seat.