Jane eyed three mounted Indian braves conversing with a half-Indian fellow she had seen around town. She must have stared at the little group for too long, for one of the Indians turned his horse her way, erect and proud as he approached. He had the look of a warrior, armed only with a knife at his waist, a mixture of dignity and ferocity in equal parts. He pulled his horse to a halt, raised his chin, and pointed to his chest. “Me,” he said with a pause, “Clark.” Having seemingly exhausted his English, he nodded to Jane and sauntered away, collecting the other two braves as he did, and they continued up the street.
The half-Indian smiled at Jane’s perplexity and approached her. “My name is John Innis,” he said.
“I know you,” said Jane. “They say you are a first-rate tracker. They call me Calamity Jane.”
“Pleased to make your acquaintance, Calamity. The Indian brave wanted to tell you that his father was Clark, the explorer,” said Innis.
Jane’s eyes went wide. “Of Lewis and Clark?”
Innis nodded. “He’s the only blue-eyed Indian I ever met.”
“No way!” Jane said. “Lewis and Clark!”
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