He was no more than six, and I remember looking on with mouth agape while his mother held him on her lap and his father set about bandaging the wound.

Little Rish had stopped crying.

I could see the tears on his cheeks while he stared wonderingly at a sliver of broken bone sticking out of his forearm.
Granny White was found dead in the Foxwell wagon.

She was a fat and helpless old woman who never did anything but sit down all the time and smoke a pipe.

She was the mother of Abby Foxwell.