Chapter 19
“Bear Paw, you thought you were rid of me!” Cut laughed. “Buffalo Shoulder, have you learned to shoot straight yet?”
“Cut Hand!” A broad man, heavy but not fat, drew up in front of Arrow. “Are you this white dog’s prisoner or is he yours?”
“This white dog has killed five of the enemy since I’ve been with him. Three of those times, he saved my life.”
“Hah!” the bigger youth laughed. “Cut Hand has a white man to guard his backside now.”
“The man with the big shoulders has a bigger mouth,” I snapped, letting pique precede good sense.
A fired grenado loosed among them would have caused less consternation than a white man speaking their own tongue. Cut’s quick frown told me I’d made a bobble.