Then she gasped. Just over Corporal Wardlaw’s shoulder there was an Indian dressed in buckskins. “There is a...”“My companion,” the Corporal...said. “John Hamm is my translator and friend.”“I am pleased to meet you, Corporal. Mr. Hamm. I am Miss Miranda Lewis. Again, thank you for your intervention. It would be a shame to have bloodied his uniform before he had blooded his weapon.” I know the Indian saw me slip the knife back into her boot sheath and the hint of a smile crossed his face. Miranda. Mary smoothed her skirt down as she stood up to sing the last hymn, watching as her father walked down the aisle to the door, taking up position so he could show his parishioners out, shaking hands with some, adding a further admonishment to others when they eventually left, all the while she would be standing dutifully to one side.It was when the church warden, Peter Groves, opened up both sets of doors that everyone noticed the fog that had appeared during the service. From her position Mary. More

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