Chapter 37

My heart stopped. “Back? Where?”

“Alex told me he pitched a tipi up Strobaw’s Crick. On the other side of the hills.”

Pa would fight like a grizzly to keep American squatters off the Mead’s acres, but he let Indians put up a shelter anywhere they wanted. Ma wasn’t fond of the leniency, but she kept a closed mouth on it. Of course, Matthew wasn’t just any Indian. He was family.

“I wonder where he went this time.” Rachel said.

“Not much telling. He’s a gadabout.” I couldn’t admit thinking it would be nice to pull up stakes and haul off somewhere without a care in the world. It didn’t look like the Strobaws were cut out of that cloth. I’d probably die banging a hammer on the anvil.

“I’m surprised he hasn’t come over for a visit,” she said. “He’s probably pining for some of Ma’s cooking. I think that’s what keeps him coming back.”