Comfort Isn't Necessary Silver Hawk

In the month of November on this 12th day in the year of Nineteen Hundred and Thirteen I make my last entry for my mission has been completed. I discovered him in a cabin in the hills of Dakota territory. He being near fifty years of age was ill with sickness and fever. Water had filled his lungs and I watched as he took his final struggling breath. He did not see me standing over him as his eyesight had failed. Death has come for him and I shall not have long to wait. Outside a blizzard howls and the deep snow will close my path to home. The cabin is chilly but my comfort is not necessary. I shall spend my time making a leathery pouch of his skin and in the Spring, I will carry his bones from this place as my reward. His soul is mine.