Two Crow Omen

Looking back- I blame Fate, that devious bitch; she never gives anyone a heads up, her ways mysterious. It was a Wednesday afternoon when I walked into Violet Two Bear Paw's room, never dreaming I'd be stepping into the middle of a tribal war. Violet spat, 'Goddamn dog-eaters.' Her venom caught me off guard. I hesitated. 'What'd you say, Violet?' 'You deaf, Bryn?' She glared. 'That damn girl's an Apache and so she's a dog-eater.' 'You talking about Prita?' 'Who do ya think I'm talkin' about, white woman?' 'Do you have something against Apaches?' 'The whole filthy tribe are dog-eaters. Comes from way back.' I shook my head. 'You're kidding, right?' 'Makes 'em no better than animals.' 'So you're saying Prita eats dog?' 'No, Bryn. You stupid or what?' Her eyes narrowed. 'I'm saying those heathens bring trouble of the worst sort. Always have. Always will.' I said, 'And you're blaming Prita for?' Violet sighed. Looked exasperated. 'You ignorant Twinkie. Prita's Apache and so she's bad luck.' Violet had Blackfoot heritage and wouldn't you think all Indian tribes stuck together? shoulda, woulda, coulda. And so begins, a Montana romance about people who live in Haywire, Montana with Native American myth and ritual.