Chapter 45: Chapter 45

I had been dreading spending the long winter months alone, so a kinship—quite apart from lust—quickly built between us. One evening as we spoke in the dark of the warm cabin, Lance revealed more of his history than he had perhaps intended. He spoke of riding with Inkpaduta.

“I thought you were in the Laramie country.”

“I was. But after Stone Knife’s tiospayedispersed, I wandered.”

That was not surprising. By nature, the Sioux were nomadic. I wondered why Dull Lance had not assumed the responsibility of holding his father’s band together but decided against pursuing the question. Instead, I asked about Red Cap. “What sort of man is he?”

“Hard. He lives hard. He hates hard. And he fights hard.”

“Some consider him little more than an outlaw leading a band of thieves.”