Cogewea, the Half-Blood by Mourning Dove

But she heeded not the warning, / Heeded not those words of wisdom, / Hiawatha

The streets of Polson bore an air of desertion, as Cogewea wended her way down the board walk in the early morn, nodding to an occasional chance acquaintance. Indecision and anxiety suffused her usually serene face. The girl felt at a loss and the question had come to her often: