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matter how you try. Sometimes you have to say your good-byes and move on, no matter how it pains ye. Otherwise, you’ll end up like the Suleskerry seal hunter, walkin’ alone up and down that beach for the rest of his days.”
    She expected more questions but none came. Soon she heard rhythmic breathing and thought the children were asleep. She was drifting into sleep herself when Lorna’s voice startled her.
    â€œYou told that story because of Billy Sun,” she said. “You think me and him will never be together because of the difference in our ages and because he’s Indian, but you’re wrong. I love him and I am going to marry him someday. Just you wait and see.”
    â€œHas Billy ever given you cause to think this, child?” Mrs. MacGill said.
    â€œNo, he doesn’t know yet. I know things other people don’t. You’ll see.”

Frank Canton
    Buffalo did not look prosperous, but neither did the Dixon family by the time they finally rolled into town. The journey had taken two days longer than the doctor had expected, and there had been snow the second night out. When they woke in the morning, they found four fluffy white inches on the ground, though the day warmed and it melted quickly. Even so, it turned the road to a muddy gumbo that clung to the iron wheels and the horses’ feet and slowed progress to a crawl. They arrived at noon, cold, dirty, and hungry.
    Dixon stopped the wagon by the town’s largest building, a structure of chinked log construction fronting the muddy main street. A hand-lettered sign saying OCCIDENTAL HOTEL hung over the front door. Nearby were a freestanding kitchen and a livery stable. A number of hard-looking men lounged in chairs on the boardwalk, watching the Dixons’ arrival with amused curiosity.
    Dixon climbed down and handed the reins to Harry. “Make sure the twins stay in the wagon, and keep an eye on those dogs.” He nodded toward a pair of mangy-looking hounds rounding the corner of the kitchen. “Hold tight on the horses.”
    The mud was so deep Dixon sank almost to his ankles as he made his way to the boardwalk. He tipped his hat to the watching men and stopped to scrape his boots before entering the lobby. The interior was dark after the bright noontime sun, and it took several seconds for his eyes to adjust. On the far wall was a long counter, with a pale, bespectacled clerk standing behind it. A restaurant occupied one side of the cavernous, barnlike interior and a saloon the other. At the bar stood a tall man, with one foot on the rail. He watched Dixon cross the room and address the clerk.
    â€œI’d like three rooms,” Dixon said. “My family and I need a place to stay until our house is finished.”
    â€œThree rooms?” the clerk said. “Well, I don’t know if I can do that. I only got six and four are occupied. I guess I can let you have the two for a time. When will your house be done?”
    Dixon smiled. “I hired Jim Kidd and his boys about a month back, but I haven’t heard from him for a while. I’ll be going out there tomorrow. I’ll let you know.”
    The tall man put his drink on the bar and crossed the room, his boots loud on the uncarpeted floor.
    â€œSo,” he said, “I’m guessing you’re the new doctor. Dixon, from Bozeman?”
    â€œYes, I’m Daniel Dixon. And you are . . . ?”
    â€œFrank Canton.” He offered his hand with a smile, studying Dixon with clear blue eyes. “Welcome to Buffalo, Doctor. You are most welcome. This town needs a good medical man; we have for a while now.”
    The clerk smiled for the first time. “So, you’re the doctor we been hearing about? Well, you’ll have plenty of business here, though maybe not so many bullet holes now that Frank, here, is sheriff. Things have calmed down considerable.”
    Canton ran a hand through his straw-colored hair. “Slow