I tried to conjure up my birth mother’s face but failed.I stood up. Modesty was not an issue with Anne. She looked over my nakedness the same way I ...udge horse flesh, slowly and unhurriedly. She was like Comanche women that way. However, something told me this trait might be another thing that made her strange in the world of the whites. The Shoshone thought Anne and Hannah were “touched,” which was not necessarily crazy—rather spiritually dangerous. Their dead husband’s ghost was said to. Slowly she pulled back the covers from her bed and braced herself for the coldness of her bare feet on the tile floor. Her crimson silk nightie did little to fight off the chill, but she found it so much more bearable than the warmer cotton alternative. Besides, this being her last night she had decided to treat herself to this small extravagance. Relief swept through her as she made her way through the hall and downstairs to the kitchen. Her hand glided down the wooden railing as her eyes. More

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