“The Buck is Down”

The buck was close, eighteen paces distant. The shot calculated and true. The death sphere “thumped” in agreement. After a reasonable wait, the trail led downhill, then south through the cedar grove. “The buck is down,” the Lady of the Woods stated as she approached with her chiefs-grade trade gun cocked and ready. A cherished memory of November, 1795, deep in the Old Northwest Territory, east of the headwaters of the River Raisin…