Call slept a distance out of camp, as was his habit. She loved to read aloud, and she read snatches of them to her daughters as soon as they were big enough to listen. Any inconvenience made Sean think of home, and the mosquitoes were a big inconvenience. Now he penned the mares and loped over to be sure she wasn't threatened by whoever was coming in the wagon.
To his surprise, it tasted fine, though mostly what tasted was the molasses. As she was wading out, feeling clean and light, she got a scare: a big snapping turtle sat on the bank right where she had entered the river. He had a white body, like all the rest, and was so excited he was hardly with her any time. He never whittled them into anything, just whittled them away, and the habit had come to irritate July.
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