Four hands had reached for her and plucked her out of the deep water. John's hands, strong and white. And other hands, strong and brown. Little Cloud'... hands.As Leah reached the bottom of the hill, she headed south, toward the center of town, toward the shore of the river where she had first met John. John had never liked Little Cloud, she remembered. That day so long ago he had shoved the young Sioux warrior-boy away from the dripping wet little girl. Leah had gasped her thanks to the proud. . I take a swig of my water and as I rest my eyes back on her, she’s looking straight at me! Oh shit…busted! She pushes a button on her machine and slowly runs to a walk to a stop. As she climbs off the tread mill, she grabs her towel and rubs her forehead and forearms. A trickle of sweat travels down her neck into the crevice of her damp, glistening, sweaty cleavage. “Enjoying the view?”“Huh?” I say dumbly, suddenly realising that she’s now talking to me. “Er, yeah, er, sorry”, I mumble... More

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