One Saturday, I went into town looking for a ribbon for a girl who had attracted my attention. I had no inkling of what was about to happen, but I was...wearing my pistol as a matter of course—no self-respecting Apache warrior ever went anywhere out of the camp without some sort of arms. I went into a general store in Perkins Bluff and began looking at the ribbons. I had just settled on a red one and had picked it up to take to the counter to pay for it when a mocking voice said, "Hey, Injun, ya. ” “Oh,” she said, an exhalation, a realization. “I…” What could I say? Here was the woman I had loved, still loved, and I was telling her that I wasn’t the woman she had been loving all along. “All those nights you said you were busy or tired?” she asked. “I was out, dressed like this, trying to convince the world – and myself – that I could be this,” I replied. “And those clothes I saw in your closet?” “Mine… I lied when I said they were my dads, that I was keeping them as mementos after. More

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