Chapter 4

Joseph Strobaw Otter—who was known as River Otter to the few surviving Yanube and had always been and always would be Otter to my family—walked out of the cabin as I crossed the bridge and rode into the yard. He gave the open-handed greeting.

“Hah-ue, dah-koh-zjah.”

Otter had called all Cuthan Strobaw’s kids “grandchild” for as long as I could remember. Cuthan was Pa’s American name. I greeted Otter fondly with an Indian handshake, grasping forearms instead of palms.

He looked me over and nodded. “You are becoming a man, War Eagle.” He usually used my natural name when nobody was around.

According to you and Pa, I did that last year when I turned seventeen.”

“What brings you all the way out here? Is anything wrong?”