The wind here typically comes roaring out of the northwest; from the vast, flat plains of the Dakotas. These winds originate far north of the US–Canadian border over the frigid landmass that comprises the northernmost aspect of our continent. Topology allows these winds to gain atmospheric momentum as they race unabated by land formations that could pose an impediment, serve as a deflecting buffer. Winds directly from the west have traversed the lofty heights of the Colorado Rockies and possess a mischief of their own. It is when the winds come from the south, when they carry all the moisture they have absorbed from the Gulf of Mexico and collide with the searing heat of the Texas Panhandle, Oklahoma and the tabletop flatness of Kansas that they harbinge bad things to come. It is easy for anyone living in this immediate area to tell that bad things are indeed are the way. […]
The car crossed over the median and crashed, head-on, into the passenger van–empty, you find out later, of its typical brood of children, who were spending that evening at a soccer tournament.
The thunderous crash, a deafening concussion of metal, was worse than you could have imagined, and then you saw it–Was it? Yes. It was–A man. You saw a man flying through the air and for a second, maybe, you hoped he would float smoothly away with the flock of birds spraying from the wild roadside brush. […]
The land beneath the trap had been in our family since before the time of steel and always without poachers. We had taken it from the Indians who had in antiquity taken it from their own or those like them. That history we owned and we were unabashed. We did not think of them as savages because our fathers had taught us to think of ourselves as savages. We thought of them as obsolete. We were the inheritors of their earth. We are not apologizers. […]