Native American Fiction Quotes

“I gently urged Clyde toward a big elm tree standing twenty yards from the front of the cabin and reined him to a stop partially behind the wide trunk. Pulled my rifle out of its boot and rested it across the big gelding’s withers. “You Wilbur Redhand?”
He kept whittling without looking up. “Who’s askin?”
“I’m Deputy Marshal Jubal Smoak. Looking for an outlaw named Crow Redhand. If you’re Wilbur, I was told you’re his kin.”
He nodded and kept whittling. Presently, he said, “Crow ain’t here. He come, but he left. Needed doctoring. Someone shot him in the foot.”
“Reckon that’d been me,” I said. “Had a shootout down near Fairland. I shot him in the foot. He shot me in the back.”
He squinted at me. “Surprised you’re alive. Crow usually aims to kill. Never knew him to miss.”
― Phil Truman, Dire Wolf of the Quapaw: a Jubal Smoak Mystery

“He, sure enough, put a bullet in my back and was a part of two other killings, but the bodies were so mangled it could only have been done by a madman. Not that Crow was sane, just not that insane.”
― Phil Truman, Dire Wolf of the Quapaw: a Jubal Smoak Mystery

“I’m Caitlin McDonald,” she said, loosening the thick wool scarf from around her neck and down off her face, motioning her chin toward the big male. “You’ve already met Hector and his gang.” When Major Standback said widow I pictured an older woman. Not this one. She was young, no more than thirty. The cold on the skin of her fine features made her face shine. She had the clean, clear beauty of a china doll.”
― Phil Truman, Dire Wolf of the Quapaw: a Jubal Smoak Mystery

“Dance with what life has to hand you and you will always walk your intended path.”
― S.V. Wolf

“Traffic slowed as they entered Fort Washakie with everyone rubbernecking the spirited powwow taking place in an empty field just off the main road. Most of the audience gathered round was non-native. But everyone there was stomping and clapping and surrendering themselves to the rhythmic spell of the drums, much like the performers themselves, and the dust of the earth which coalesced with their smoky breath to envelope them together in a billowing cone of palpitation. And Joshua sat there at the stop sign a little too long because he couldn’t bring himself to look away. But no one inside the VW or in the other cars cared, or even noticed, because they were doing the same.”
― Casey Fisher, The Subtle Cause