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Chapter 35

The good reverend overindulged in the local fermented drink, made an indecent proposal to one of the Yanube matrons, and was escorted across the plains the next morning preaching incoherently to his horse. I never expected to see the man again. Someone, be he red or white, would jack-roll him for his coat or his shoes or his jaded pony before the year was out.

* * * *

The next visitors were of another stripe entirely. Cut Hand was in the village, and I was alone except for Otter when the guard dog in the south put up such a clamor, I stuck my head out the door to see what was going on. Three strange warriors calmly stood just beyond where the dog seemed willing to go. One gave the sign for peace. I barked a command to the dog and held up one finger.