I opened the door and went into the quiet space of the spotless kitchen. The scent of breakfast lingered, but nothing else. After spending time with the Lenox women, they could easily be their own army platoon. Surely if they'd been in charge Indian negotiations would have gone much more smoothly and with many fewer casualties.
A grandfather clock ticked in the front parlor. I listened intently and no sound came from upstairs. Slowly and quietly I ventured up the steps, never having breached this women-only area of the house. The home was large to accommodate such a big group and it seemed all of the bedroom doors were open. Within, bits of individual feminine touches abound—ribbons, a dress over the back of a chair, a colored quilt, dried flowers hanging on the wall. I walked to the end
