“And Coinn opened his mouth and in the moonlight showed his great yellow teeth, but for all that, he either did not know or would not say what he thought, for Coinn was no talking horse but one who paid mind to his business: he had opened his mouth to show that he had heard. But now he closed it again. He was a thoughtful, sensible horse.

“ ‘Now, Coinn, we must close the wee drawbridge for sure, that’s sure,’ the farmer said.”

I felt a pang and wondered what it was. It was the nausea of the sickness for home and for the storytelling times of home.

“BUT BEFORE the farmer could return the bridge to its proper place so that it should span the little river and people thereabouts could go back to their crossings, he shivered because he saw something moving on the water and it was no boat at all now. It was a very corpse that was coming floating along down that river, as if it belonged there, as if it was just out for a bit of a trip. And the corpse was all puffy, but it was shining bright under the moon so that it even caught the rheumy eye of Coinn.

“ ‘Coinn,’ the farmer said, ‘do ye not think that dead body there that is leaving a gleamin’ wake in the moony waters looks a bit familiar, now?’ And Coinn, sure, said nothing, but he rolled that eye of his.”

One of the white women broke in and said, “Don’t be talking to us of corpses, Dwyer, this night of all nights.”

“Just wait,” Dwyer said. And then he said, “I won’t be telling you the rest until tomorrow night.”

“What now? You won’t be telling us the rest?”

“Not I,” said Dwyer. “You have to wait until tomorrow night.”

“What if we’re not here tomorrow night?” the other man said.

“You’ll be here tomorrow night in any case,” said Dwyer, and he turned a kindly eye on all of them.

AMONG the Delaware at Wiishto a man named Sheninjee was the leader. He was taller and leaner than any man Mary had seen, and he moved quickly, always, but carried himself with grace. He was often silent, appraising, and sometimes critical. She watched him struggle to rein in his temper.

And she watched him look at her with his scanning eyes, with eyes of obvious judgment.

A friend told her that Sheninjee had said he saw two of Mary and when the friend chided him for drinking spirits Sheninjee had said no but that he saw twins and that she was aptly named: the white woman and also the Seneca woman. Two-Falling-Voices. Like an earth-hill under the sky that had two downward slopes.