Yellow Net picked that moment to duck through the doorway, her suspicious gaze on Nine Killer. She stopped short, standing there as if he had intruded too long into her domain.
“I should be going. Thank you for your help, Quick Fawn.”
She hesitated, fumbling with one of the pots. “Elder, am I in trouble?”
“Only with yourself, Quick Fawn.” He stood. “You are the one who must decide if what you did was right or wrong. What do you think?”
She pursed her lips and nodded. “I know.”
Nine Killer smiled down at her. “If you think of anything else, please, come and tell me. It might be very important.”
With that he walked to the doorway, and nodded at Yellow Net. She replied with a blank stare, and he stepped out into the snow.
Sitting across from Nine Killer, Panther puffed contentedly on his pipe, his belly full, and the stripped bones of a large rockfish filling his wooden plate.
The fire in Rosebud’s long house was particularly warm on this frozen winter night. Outside, the sky had cleared and the cold had intensified. In the rear of the long house White Otter laughed with her siblings as they played a gambling game with reeds, alternately betting nutshells, and casting the reeds upon the ground. A total of eighty one short reeds were tucked into a bundle and tossed on the hard-packed dirt so that they bounced and scattered. The object was to grab as quickly as possible and pluck up either seven or eleven reeds. The player who won added to his cache of nutshells.
Rosebud bent over one of the sleeping benches and fished a hoe from beneath it. She then collected a deer’s scapula, some sinew, and a shark’s tooth, and walked over and settled herself across from Nine Killer and Panther. She laid out her materials and, with the shark’s tooth, began sawing off the old clamshell that had been bound to the bottom of her hoe handle. “Solstice is coming,” she said reflectively. “It’s time to start fixing up the tools. In three moons, I’ll have wished I’d done this now.” She pointed to the blunt clamshell, its rounded edge battered and chipped. “This one won’t cut air anymore, let alone soil.” Sun Conch entered, a blanket around her shoulders.
“Cold out there,” she said, puffing as she stepped across the floor and settled next to Panther, holding her hands out to the fire. At sight of the hoe, she said, “Preparing fields is at least three moons away.”
“Well, Rosebud isn’t one to let things slide to the last moment.” Panther watched Rosebud saw at the gritty sinew binding that held her hoe together. He took a puff on his pipe and flipped the fish skeleton to the prowling dogs that waited patiently behind him. Then he placed the wooden plate where they could lick it clean of the last grease.
Nine Killer cast him an appraising look. “This life seems to fit you, Elder. Your belly isn’t the gaunt cave it was when you first came here.”
Panther smiled and took his pipe from his mouth. “I must admit, War Chief, I’ve come to like your household. I’d hate to make a habit of it. It might become hard to leave.”
Rosebud gave him an amused glance as she worked. “Surely we’re not as entertaining as sitting around alone on that island of yours. Don’t you miss your crows and seagulls?”
Panther sighed, all too aware of the warm glow in his soul. Fellowship was like a drug, it left a man wanting more. “As contented as I am to stay here and eat your food, I’ll be going when we bring this to a conclusion.”
“If Copper Thunder doesn’t kill you first,” Sun Conch remarked. “Honestly, Elder, you wear my nerves thin sometimes.”
Nine Killer raised his head. “Copper Thunder threatened to kill you?”
“As I have said before: It is an old thing between us.”
Rosebud severed the last of the bindings, freeing the clamshell from its handle. “Tell me, you three, what have you accomplished? Hmm? Are you any closer to finding Red Knot’s murderer? The entire village is abuzz with this rumor and that. It’s become bothersome for me to walk across the plaza with all the pestering questions.”
“And what do you tell them, sister?” Nine Killer asked. “That they’ll hear anything from the Weroansqua, if it’s to be heard.” Rosebud placed the joint end of the scapula against the handle bottom, trying to find the best fit.
“So, what do we know?” Nine Killer tapped the dottle out of his pipe and pinched freshly chopped leaves from the little bowl beside him. “High Fox asked Red Knot to leave. They’d been lovers for at least six moons. Red
Knot said she’d meet him at Oyster Shell Landing. She couldn’t just pack up and run off; she had to tell Quick Fawn. At the same time, White Otter sees Copper Thunder and Flat Willow in a furtive conversation; then they both step out beyond the palisade. Quick pawn pleads for Red Knot to stay, but is turned down. The argument is strained enough that White Otter won’t even join the conversation, but retreats. Quick Fawn starts home but has second thoughts and tries to head off Red Knot, only to discover a man and woman in the shadows. They’ve had their lovemaking interrupted by the girls, and they’ve overheard everything.”