She was looking at him impatiently. Furious, he fired into the darkness until the pistol was empty. Now she was just a few yards away--he could have crept up to the tent and heard her breathing. Some days were so hot that the air above the water shimmered and the shore became indistinct; other days a chill rain blew and she wrapped herself in one of the buffalo robes and kept fairly dry.
Clara looked more closely at the man standing in her kitchen. In the shimmering mirages the men were always mistaking sage bushes for Indians. He had taken the pistol out of his belt, but he didn't need it. It was just a puzzle.
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