It was too late to blame this wreck of a human being. He would just lie to her. Make her pain easier. The truth, that she and her husband drove their son in horror and pain from their house was not something he would skewer her with now. Not while she was sober. A lie.

‘I was fine, mama. I was over at the Reverend’s place.’

But not entirely a lie. He had certainly been outside the Reverend Jenkins’ cabin one night. A small cabin the chief had let him have after the Reverend’s church gave a stack of money for the privilege. He was a Baptist something or other, here with his wife and daughter to save Indians.

Sam had seen a light in their window and squatted on the dirt rise behind their rough yard to watch them take their meal. Scrutinizing a real family held endless fascination for Sam. There was Mrs Jenkins talking to the Reverend as she drained off the potatoes and their daughter Darcy was just sitting at the table writing something in a book. He’d gazed enraptured as Mrs Jenkins cleared the book away from under Darcy’s nose and Darcy didn’t even flinch.

She’d placed a big steaming plate of food in front of the girl while still speaking to her husband and then took off her apron and sat down with her own plate. Then they’d bowed their heads and the Reverend had said something and they’d all tucked in. Darcy was talking, waving her fork, and get this, the Reverend and Mrs Jenkins were listening and laughing. Sam couldn’t imagine what that would be like. He’d sat in the dark, watching them right up until Mrs Jenkins had cleared the plates and put out the light. Then he’d sat there for an hour in the dark, hugging his knees, before he went back up the hill to his shelter and a hungry sleep.

Where you been, Sam? That’s where he’d been.

Katie was still looking at him across the table with those hot, hard eyes. Had the door closed for her too? Had she read the lie in his eyes?

‘Long walk, huh?’

‘Uh-huh.’

He looked at her, aching to smash whatever it was sitting between them, but knowing that he was its architect. ‘How long have you been sitting here in the dark?’

‘’Bout an hour.’

‘Bart’s gone from the yard.’

‘He’s in with Billy.’

‘Oh.’

‘Sam. Did you see Billy before your walk?’ There was sarcasm in that last word, and sarcasm was not a tool that Katie often used. Certainly never on him.

‘No. Why? Is he okay?’