Not the kind where you talk about things because the Indian almost never spoke. Rather the kind that allowed us to ride for hours together without try...ng to kill each other. The Indian finished his horse then took a look at my horses hooves. He made a single cut after checking all four. When he finished he walked to the chuck wagon for his grub. The cook put his meager rations into an empty flour sack. The Indian tied the sack securely with a single rawhide strip. He then tied the bag around. Greying brown hair and green eyes.He started talking to me shortly after I sat down.“Is something wrong? You look so sad.” He said it with so much kindness and concern, everything I had been going through just came spilling out of me. Tears even formed in the corners of my eyes.“Baby, don’t take it so hard.” He gently rubbed and patted my back. It felt so nice. And his voice was so soothing.He introduced himself as Daniel. I replied mine was Liz. For the rest of the conversation, he. More

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