My mind held onto the image of the handsome man longer than was normal. I do not usually dote on the looks of other males. Was my unrequited yen for young Lucas still too fresh, or was I drawn to the man because he lived the life I unconsciously longed for? I had lived peacefully among white men since I was ten-summers-old. Perhaps my heart yearned to throb with a warrior’s pulse.
* * * *
I headed straight for the blacksmith shop in Yanube City. Timo Bowers was well-regarded in town and would likely know what was going on with Hardcastle and his clique of Indian haters. He gave me a huge grin as I entered his forge.
“Otter, good to see you.” The smith frowned suddenly. “I heard what happened. I am sorry about that young man and his mother.”
Relieved Timo had introduced the subject, I accepted his American handshake and asked what he knew of the affair.