House of Purple Cedar. Tim Tingle

to the reins and steered Whiteface in the direction of the train station.

      “Might as well start at the beginning,” he said aloud. He lightly touched his cheek and laughed a nervous laugh. As he neared Spiro he heard the morning sounds, the cranking and rising of a store-front awning, the whish and whomp of a silver-haired woman beating dust from a floor rug.

      Nahullos, thought Amafo. Some good, some bad, like Choctaws.

      At the train station, Amafo tied Whiteface to the hitching post and stepped onto the platform. He walked past the tables and chairs lined up against the wall. When he came to the second table nearest the door, he stopped.

      Two feet from the floor he saw traces of his own blood. Someone had scrubbed the wall where he had brushed up against it, but streaks of blood still shone from grooves in the wood.

      He peered through the window and saw the clerk and a waiter sitting at a table, drinking coffee and reading the newspaper. Amafo sat in the same chair he had occupied only two days earlier, with his back turned to the stationhouse. Ten minutes later the clerk glanced up and spotted him. He spoke to the waiter and the younger man strode through the door.

      “Excuse me, I didn’t see you. What can I get for you?”

      When Amafo turned and the waiter saw his face, he stepped back. “Oh. I’m sorry. I mean…I didn’t see you were hurt. May I help you?”

      He stared at Amafo till a look of recognition crossed his face. “You were here Saturday with those children. That was you, wasn’t it?”

      Amafo nodded.

      “I’ll get you coffee.” The waiter touched his own face without realizing it, then retreated inside. A large bearded man soon appeared, holding two cups of coffee.

      “I am John Burleson. I’m the stationmaster. May I sit with you?”

      Amafo gestured to the empty seat in front of him. Burleson set the cups down and settled his bulky frame into the chair facing Amafo. Everything about him was massive, his hands, his prominent forehead, his large ears.

      “We are sorry about what happened Saturday.”