Not far from him was a knot of lads drinking, swearing, and playing at dice as eagerly and as skilfully as any of the older hands. 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. She turned away from the doorway of the silk loom to observe. He saw her eyes pass him and settle on a fleetingly pretty strawberry blond girl and her effeminate father.
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