"Ah, hell," he said loudly, and was pleased to hear that while he'd stood silently thinking, his voice had regained its strength. "Sure, I'll let the Indian live. He's nothing to me."
He noticed that his hand still shook a little as he gave Bennett's pistol back to him. He took his own, reloaded, from Armand and holstered it, hoping no one could see his tremor.
"My hand on it," he said, holding out his right hand, willing it to be steady.
The grip that met his was crushing. Even though he'd seen the bony young man immobilize Little Foot, Raoul was surprised.
He felt the men would expect him to do more to show his gratitude.
"Come and have a drink with me, Abe."
"My pleasure, sir."
Armand had finished putting Raoul's tent up. In the tent Armand uncorked a jug and handed it to Raoul, who offered it to Lincoln. The young man hooked his finger in the ring at the neck of the jug and raised it to his mouth. Raoul watched the prominent Adam's apple rise and fall as he took a long swallow.
"I normally don't touch whiskey, sir," Lincoln said, handing the jug back to Raoul. "I've seen it ruin too many good men. But I do appreciate this. It's not every day I grab a pistol as it goes off, wrestle an Indian and disobey a colonel."
"Well, that's the best whiskey there is. Old Kaintuck—O.K."