He never yelled at her or hit her. And he never stopped talking no matter how hard she tried to show him that she wasn’t listening. Days passed, the last of the cottonwood leaves fell, the wind howled of winter at night and still he talked. She couldn’t stop observing his every move. He took the time to show her things. He taught her each detail as if one day he’d leave her alone and she’d have to know how to survive on her own. Fishing, cooking, washing. All the while, he talked and each day she understood more of what he said. Three nights after she’d cut her hair, he presented her with a hat made of rabbit skins. A week later he tried to make her moccasins out of more hides. As soon as he left camp the next day, she finished the job with much more skill. For the first time since she’d outgrown her boots, she had new shoes. Fur-lined. Warm. A perfect fit. Over the years she’d made many, but they’d always been taken away.
