“Hunter was sitting under a brush arbor, tossing dice with several men, when Blackbird came tearing up the path between the lodges, screaming, “The yellow-hair! She’s back, Uncle! She’s back!” Accustomed as he was to Blackbird’s mischief, Hunter ignored her… — Catherine Anderson Copy Share Image
“The little boy touched his dust-streaked hand to Loretta’s hair and made a breathless “ooh” sound. He smelled like any little boy who had been hard at play, a bit sweaty yet somehow sweet, with the definite odor of dog… — Catherine Anderson Copy Share Image
