Chapter 11

“Does Red have to know?” I asked.

“Sooner or later he’ll figger it out, but I ain’t gonna tell him.”

Cut joined us in the grove, his face solemn—formal even. This was serious business to him. He spoke gravely.

Split turned to me. “He wants to say somethin’ to you and wants me to deliver the straight goods.”

The next few minutes turned bizarre as the tall, handsome Indian spoke earnestly in one tongue, and the short, dumpy man translated Cut Hand’s declaration of devotion and kinship into his own version of the King’s English. Then, using Splitlip Rumquiller as my tongue, I expressed pleasure at Cut Hand’s words but said I needed to think hard about changing my life so drastically

Cut Hand responded in his deep voice, echoed by Split’s lighter tones. “He says his heart is yours to hold till you wants to give it back. Even if his duty do git in the way of things, and he ken it will someday, you’ll still have his heart.”