Chapter 73
I tarried with him, mostly to spite Morning Mist, but I could not in good conscience keep him longer, so I left for the Mead.
Otter was hoeing the garden plot in preparation for planting when I turned Long’s nose into the yard before the house. Lone Eagle lounged on one of the porch chairs eating a jubal, a sort of sugar cake I sometimes baked.
“Hah!” the latter said. “Look what I found.” He tossed a hand casually in Otter’s direction. “Is he your win-taynow?”
Even after all these years, I reacted like the white man I was. “Don’t start those rumors, Lone Eagle, or you will never be welcome in my house again. I remember you doing woman’s work in this very place when you were not much younger than he is. Did that make you my win-tay?”
“Of course not!” he objected, puzzled by my vehemence. “It was but a joke, Teacher. I meant nothing by it.”
“And by such jokes are lives ruined. Don’t joke about it again.”
He drew himself to full height. “A man says what he wants!”