Chapter 64
Memories of Cut Hand almost spoiled my return. The comforts of home receded into the dark corners of the room as lamplight replaced the sun’s glow. By the time I took to my bed, a sharp physical pain rose in my chest as jealous images of him rogering his new wife claimed me anew. My sleep was poor that first night at home.
Early the next morning, barking dogs drew me to the door. A delegation of six Sioux warriors—strange to me—stood waiting for an invitation. I called off South and beckoned them forward, growing a bit nervous as they crowded into the west fronting room. Their first request, made in the Lakota dialect, was for liquor. Finally convinced I had none, they sat on my floor to talk.
“Soldiers passed by,” the leader announced.
“Yes, it was a detachment from Fort Yanube on its way to recover the bodies of the settlers killed last winter on the north bank of the Yanube.”
Hooded eyes and firm lips told me nothing. “What did these soldiers say?” their spokesman asked.