| On the first of the month, Lewis Cedar Creek, a gray-haired Karuk Indian
with caterpillar eyebrows and deep creases in his forehead that
formed a stern expression even when none was intended, stepped
out onto what was left of his front porch. He shucked his sweatshirt
and tossed it back inside before the screen door shut behind
him. The morning was a sizzler and only going to get worse. The
brown grass curled against the dirt in defeat. |