“Like I said, boy, leave me be.”
“But you’re doing such a wonderful job with the livestock, Mrs. Quigley.”
Takodah was there, kneeling besides Mrs. Quigley’s barrow. She pushed her blue calico sleeves to her elbows.
“May I see your hands, Mrs. Quigley?” Mrs. Quigley complied immediately, like a child. “If your hands are hurting you from wheeling all day I might be able to help. I have a salve that works well for blisters. We can’t lose you, after all. We need someone who can handle the livestock as well as you can. They listen to you.”
“You’re the Indian,” Mrs. Quigley said.
“I’m Takodah Wetherfield.”
“Hiram Wetherfield’s wife,” said Lenore Starkey. “We know who you are. We saw what happened with the Duringtons’ daughter.”
“Then you know she saved the boy,” Willie said. “It’s not Mr
