“The man who wrote it, Fraser Drummond, was a city man from back east who traveled through here.  It’s about his trip and everything he saw and did.”

Jenkins held up a hand.  “Sister, don’t be telling me about Fraser Drummond.”

“You knew him?”

“Saved his life.  Twice. He was sickly and his eyesight gave out now and then.  He’d think he was coming up over the rise chasing a buffalo herd, wasn’t no buffalo herd, it was a bunch of wild, screaming, meaner than the devil…”  He stopped, considering the present situation.

“No offense taken,” Chace said.

“Not your tribe though.  But this Fraser, that’s what he kept doing, wandering into dangerous places where he never should of been.  Lucky he made it back east to write his fool book.”

“Are you maybe in it?” Ada said.  “That’s the thought Charlotte had.”

“And a fine thought it is.  Extend her my appreciation.  I better damn well be in it somewhere for all the trouble he caused me.”

“Good.  How many pages do you want to read at first?”

“I’ve got to give you a number?  Lord in heaven.  Thirty.”

“Done,” Ada said.  “Write down every word you don’t know.  I’ve got a dictionary.”

“Then what?” Jenkins said more gently, returning to his true cause.

“Then I guess maybe you’ll start writing your own book.”  Seeing the way he looked at her, she hastily added, “That’s what Charlotte thought, anyway.”

“Will you help me?”

Now Ada was flustered, realizing she’d gone too far.

“We’ll both help you,” Chace said calmly.

“You can read and write?”

“I told you.  I’ve got a white man’s name.”

“What do you think mine is?”  Jenkins turned his attention back to the book, paging carefully through it.  “I’m much obliged for this thoughtfulness,” he said.  His glance went again to Chace and then back to Ada.  “But if you don’t mind, Miss, I believe I’d be best advised to put off asking for your hand again.  Least for today.”

<>

Instead of writing a sketch, Chase took paper, dipped a pen in ink and began to draw.  First one buffalo appeared, swiftly, in graceful clean black lines, then another, and another until there was a whole herd covering many pages of army letterhead.  Ada took each one as he finished and laid them out end to end.

“Those are a lot of buffalo,” Jeremy said.

“This is the way the old ones draw it,” Chace said.  Quickly he filled a sheet with buffalo running off the edge and behind them lines of stick figures on stick horses brandishing bows and lances.  “It goes better with paint.”  Then he drew the stick figures on horses coming back the other way with the buffalo stacked on dragging poles behind.