Often she would look at the two unmistakably Indian faces of her children Billy and Jess and mourn that they would never enjoy the rich part of their heritage provided by their father’s blood. But Sam could barely say Indian or Kinchuinick without spitting the words and she loved him too deeply to provoke the wrath he so readily turned on himself. If he thought the valuable Indian artefacts were junk, they would just have to agree to disagree. She made sure that all her Kinchuinick studies were done at the museum, keeping the facts to herself and her burning interest in the past of her husband’s race a jealously-guarded secret.

The beautiful carved bone amulet Sam wore round his neck, a very ancient Assiniboine charm, gave Katie her only tiny glimmer of hope that one day he would face up to his roots. She knew it had been his father’s, the male half of the dead parents Sam never spoke of, and the nature of her job told her it was valuable beyond its role of sentimental keepsake. But he offered her no explanation, no anecdotal family history, and he took it off only once, when he was forced to replace its leather thong after snapping it while swimming in the creek.

What kept her from prying too deeply were two things. First, she thought the ivory-coloured circle of bone hanging on the tight brown skin of his hairless chest was the sexiest thing she had ever seen; and secondly, she loved him so much that anything that made hurt flit across his broad innocent face made her die inside. So the history of Sam’s amulet was safe. Sam would never know she had located its origin in more than one book. She knew lots about that charm. One day she would talk to him about it, but not now.