Chapter Three
LUCAS AWOKE BESIDE Jezebel, unraveled from a night of fitful dreams. He trembled in the early chill, his breath misting about him like smoky clouds. He wished for his pipe but the river had swallowed it.
The old squaw resurrected the embers buried beneath the fire’s dead ashes. She prepared breakfast, moving with heavy grace upon broad bare feet. In the daylight she wasn’t half as ancient as she had appeared the night before. Lucas guessed her age lay within her early forties.
The young boy was nowhere to be seen. Neither was Duvall. Tamsen sat wrapped within an old bearskin, staring blindly into the mounting flames.
“Hey girl,” Lucas said to Tamsen.
Tamsen sat like a dead thing. She did not move when he hugged her. He held her closely, allowing his sorrow to bathe her v
