Chapter 9A blazing sun sucked moisture from every living thing it touched. The air in my nostrils was as hot as the rage in my breast. Two innocents lay dead, slaughtered like prey by brutish hunters, trophies never to be displayed but secretly shared with kindred killers.
After securing the bodies wrapped in buffalo hide to pony drags, I lashed one travois to Patch and another to the mare while Matthew sat on the ground hugging himself, a forlorn figure. I judged him still in shock.
“Son, get out of those white man’s uen-zoh-ghee and put on your breechclout. Today you will be Little Bear.”
The boy stared at me blankly.
I touched his arm. “You will dress as a Teton warrior in honor of those who were your mother and your brother. We both will. Today, I will be River Otter.”
He looked u
