Softfoot of Silver Creek

Over the laughter of a nearby waterfall, over a long roar the distant herds of bison that crowded the prairie, and over the oily creak of his knife on a sharp stone on his knee, his keen ear knew the sound of her light stepped as she crawled out of the pines into a sunny glade on a bluff. He didn’t turn around, he only dropped the stone, threw back the thick locks that retreated, his long black ha...