You ain't women yet, Clara said. When Call had given him a handshake, Wilbarger reached for Augustus, who shook his hand in turn. He had known men killed by Indian boys no older than ten, and by old Indian women who looked as if they could barely walk. The Platte was so full of ducks and geese that he heard their gabbling all day, though he rode a mile from the river.
When July came back that evening, Clara was still sitting. He felt more confused than he ever had in his life, whereas Wilbarger was a man who seemed far less confused than most. Yes, and you're my equal, Clara said, looking at her daughter. Well, you're the only woman we got, he said.
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