Chapter 5The days stretched and drew out my anxiety. In a small community such as the Yanube village, privacy does not exist, yet it became clear I was being observed especially closely. Natural, Cut Hand claimed. A stranger among the band fueled curiosity.
One day an attractive matron scratched on my tipi, which I scornfully dubbed the Wacky Wigwam, and asked after some medicine in aid of her cramps. I had withdrawn to seek out something from my medicine bag when I halted in my steps. I had come within an eye’s blink of providing her laudanum before Cut’s warning about Spotted Hawk leaped to mind. Reluctantly I denied having anything to help her.
Later a young man joined me as I washed at the men’s bathing place in the river. Introducing himself as Badger, he demonstrated an uncommon cu
