A moment later lightning struck the side of White Bear's head, sudden and stunning. He heard the rifle's roar just an instant after the bullet hit him. It struck so hard, it left him no strength to scream. His right ear felt as if it had been torn away from his skull. A blaze of agony blinded him. He staggered.
But he was alive.
Play dead!
It was the same voice in his mind that had told him to run. Now he was sure it was the Bear spirit.
He shut his eyes, threw himself at once to the ground. The earth came up and hit him in the face as hard as a fist in the jaw. Stunned for a moment, he sucked air into his chest and let it out slowly. He lay perfectly still. His ear felt as if someone had laid a burning torch on it.
"Got the sonofabitch," came Eli Greenglove's flat voice from only a short distance away.
But he was still alive. And no one was shooting at him. His body went limp with relief.
He could not believe that he was still alive and conscious.
Maybe I am dead. Maybe my spirit will stand up in a moment and start walking west.
Greenglove was supposed to be the best shot in Smith County. Could he really mistakenly think he hit White Bear square in the head? His eyes were better than that.