Caleb's Crossing

by Geraldine Brooks

But it was his light temper and his easy laugh that drew me close to him, over time, until I forgot he was a half-naked, sassafras-scented heathen

anointed with raccoon grease. He was, quite simply, my dearest friend.

There was a little ember of anger inside me when I thought

this: a hard black coal that could be fanned into a hot flame if I chose to let my thoughts give it air.

some learned men think that the Indians are the lost tribe of the ancient Hebrews, because of this similarity in the tongues.