‘Silence,’ he warned again, with a prod of the dagger at her heart. It hadn’t even been called Kentucky back then when the Shawnee still hunted deer over mossy hills and the smoke from their fires could still inspire terror. How little he knew about Ruth—the background from which she had sprung! He knew that her father was a missioner, that her mother was dead, that she had been born on this island, and that, at the time of his collapse, she had been on the way to an aunt in the States. But, like all your overbearing sex, you must have your own way. Not for me. There he paused again, half turning his back and pretending to look for someone among the soldiers on the benches.
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