"Tse mao," he said as he bent forward looked at the lock he held.Donovan couldn't understand the language of the Indian, but from thebody language, as...umed he was commenting on the boy's red hair. He alsorealized that the Indian thought he was a woman, had he known the realsex of his captive...Donovan knew that he surely would have been killedon the spot.The Indian pulled Donovan to his feet. Then, picking him up as if hisweight were nothing, the Indian placed him on the back of his. The wind had rubbed raw the blow I'd given him, but it was more than that, the bruise was cut up, bleeding, a dried trickle of blood flowing down his cheek to the point of his chin. He wrapped his arms around himself, trying to keep warm. I could see the shape of his collar bone through his shirt, the cotton gone transparent with the rain. The patterns of his tattoos leapt out at me."I'm sorry about your brother." I just stood there in the warmth of the house, looking at him standing there, so. More

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