Free Murder at Medicine Lodge by Mardi Oakley Medawar

his hat, I saw Billy flinch. After a moment’s deliberation, he nodded, then turned and addressed Hawwy.
    Hears The Wolf and The Cheyenne Robber tied up the remaining Blue Jackets, having to grapple first with Sergeant Cullen. During the scuffle William had edged closer to Lieutenant Danny’s side. William’s face was streaked with tears that, in the strong sunlight, shone like silver lines on his dark face.
    When Hears The Wolf and The Cheyenne Robber started after Little Jonas, they were expecting a huge fight, but the man, staring off at William, was oddly compliant. He made not one defensive gesture. Because he was so indulgent, Hears The Wolf and The Cheyenne Robber took their time deciding just which scrub tree wasn’t likely to be uprooted by Little Jonas’s use of brute force. Once the five Blue Jackets were settled and secure, Billy nodded to Hawwy. At last able to move without fear of being shot, Hawwy tied a cloth over his face and came to me.
    He hunkered right down, his dark brown eyes above the mask, eager as he said excitedly, “This not man. Clothes no fit.”
    He meant, of course, that this couldn’t possibly be Buug-lah because the clothing looked too small. Hearing this, Skywalker ran to join us, coming to stand just behind Hawwy. Looking up at Skywalker, seeing the eagerness in his expression, I wanted to hit Haw-we-sun. His saying that was just like throwing mud clods into a perfectly clear waterhole. How was I suppose to convince the others that his help was necessary if he went on making idiot statements like that? All right, the dead man’s face was split in half and I was having a hard time keeping the black cloud of flies stirred so that they wouldn’t resettle and cover up the wound. But even in these appalling conditions I could tell that this man was once Buug-lah, for, having watched him for days and simply out of curiosity, I clearly remembered the dead man’s face. Hawwy hadn’t known him at all before coming to Medicine Lodge and to my knowledge, had only looked at him twice. But only once, on the day he picked him up and brushed him off, had he shown the living man any interest. Now he was basing his iffy identification on the way the body was clothed, giving no thought at all to the ruined facial structure.
    Despite the malodorous air, I heaved a wearied sigh.
    A decomposing human is an awful sight. Worse than any species of dead animal. With all things formerly living, death has distinct stages but these stages are more apparent in humans. There are other stages for bodies left to molder in deep water, but as the body I am telling you about was on dry land, I will be brief, horrifying your mind only with those details.
    In the first twelve hours, the body cools enough to feel cold to the touch. During about half of those twelve hours, blood settles in whatever position the body is left to lay. If it’s on the back then blood will seep in that direction, but the blood will not collect in the places of contact. For example, if the body is on a hard surface, like the ground as in the case of Buug-lah, then the shoulder blades, the buttocks, the back of the calves, and the heels will be flat and white while the remainder of the body will look a vivid red.
    Also in the first twelve hours the body becomes rigid, beginning in the jaw and neck, finally making the body as stiff as wood. Oddly enough, after another twelve hours the body goes limp again and the blood which was like a jellied mass, will turn liquid again, weeping from cavities like the ears, eyes, and so on—anyplace excess blood can escape. It is not unusual to find bloodred tears on a dead man’s face, or to see blood trickling out of the mouth. This display will not tell you how the man died; it merely gives an idea of how long the man has been dead.
    When a body is two to three days old, the lower abdomen becomes puffy and the leached skin around the abdomen will seem to