Chapter NineteenThe main square, by mid-afternoon, buzzed with people going about their daily business. Despite the cold, dust billowed up from the wheels of passing wagons and horses and countless voices exchanged greetings as townsfolk criss-crossed from shop to eating house, from outfitters to merchant-stores. Drovers, pedlars, pilgrims came and went, using the Fort as a staging post for journeys further west or to sell their wares. Winter would soon pass, the promise of spring in the clear blue sky and the many flowers bursting forth amongst the surrounding hills. Glancing towards them and wishing she was there, White Dove, clutching the brown paper bag in both hands, gnawed away at her bottom lip, hoping no one would notice one small, insignificant Indian in this press of humanity.
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