That spring we were called away for two days to celebrate Butterfly’s marriage to a young man who recently joined the band. He was a likely buck, and Butterfly was eager for his hand. Yellow Puma was pleased with the bride price, which virtually beggared the young couple. Cut and I each gave a gift of horses, one a young colt my mare recently dropped. Broad Fist, named after the big hands at the end of his strong arms, seemed a good man.
Cut drank to excess on their wedding night, the first time I saw him in that condition. Fortunately, he was not the low, glowering drunk I encountered so often in ordinaries, but grew playful, hazing and harassing the newlyweds mercilessly until the wee hours. If the couple consummated their union, it must have been near unto dawn, because as Cut wore out, Bear Paw took over.