The Girl in the Torch by Robert Sharenow

finale.”
    â€œI don’t understand what this is.”
    â€œThe Indians and the white man, they had lots of wars over here. And Buffalo Bill kind of does a make-believe version of the war. You understand what ‘make believe’ means? It’s when you pretend.”
    â€œA pretend war?”
    Sarah shuddered, thinking of the bloody bodies of the men from her village on the night of the attack. She couldn’t understand why anyone would want to pretend to have a war.
    â€œIt sounds strange when you say it like that. But it’s really just like a stage play, only with lots of horses and guns going off. So I guess they were sort of like actors.”
    Sarah tried to see traces of Maryk in the two people in the photo. They seemed so different from him. Yet as she looked closer, she could tell that he was a combination of both, with the almond eyes and serious expression of his mother and the broad body and thick hair of his father.
    â€œYour mother was an Indian?”
    â€œThat’s right.”
    â€œSo you are Indian too?”
    â€œPart Indian. My mother was from the Dakota tribe. Lots of Dakota worked for Cody in those days. My father was a horse wrangler from Sweden. So I’m probably the only half-Dakota, half-Swede you’re ever gonna meet.”
    â€œIs this why the man you work with called you a half-breed?”
    Maryk’s expression darkened and he leaned forward. Sarah pressed herself against the wall as his enormous shadow engulfed her.
    â€œDon’t ever use that word again, you hear?” His sour breath steamed into her face. “Only idiots like Johnson say things like that.”
    â€œI’m sorry,” she stammered.
    â€œIt’s just about the lowest thing you could call somebody like me. So don’t use it. Ever.”
    â€œI won’t,” she said. Her eyes filled with tears.
    Maryk gruffly gathered up his belongings, stopping to pluck the full bottle of whiskey off the top of the dresser along with the photograph. He opened the door but then turned back.
    â€œAnd don’t touch any of my things!”
    He slammed the door closed.
    It took several minutes for Sarah’s heart to stop racing.
    She noticed a lock on the inside that she quickly, but quietly, turned shut. As soon as the door was bolted, Sarah felt her body relax, as if she’d been tensing every muscle the entire time she had been in the apartment building and could finally unclench.
    She changed into some of the clothes that Miss Jean had brought her and sat on the bed. Scanning the bookshelf, she read some of the strange titles: Don Quixote, Moby-Dick, The Last of the Mohicans , and Aesop’s Fables .
    On the top shelf sat a wooden box covered with a layer of dust, as if it hadn’t been touched in years.
    Sarah approached the shelf. Then she guiltily glanced around. She wanted to find out as much about Maryk as she could, because she still didn’t trust him. Maybe the box held a gun or some otherkind of weapon. She needed to know what was inside.
    She stood on her tiptoes and reached up. But just as she grabbed the box, there was a loud rap on the door. Sarah dropped the box back on the shelf and spun around.
    â€œYou come now,” Mrs. Lee’s voice called through the door. “Need you to sweep upstairs floors before make meal.”
    Sarah awkwardly tripped over her feet as she stepped away from the shelf.
    â€œYes. I come,” she said.

The Wok
    S ARAH SPENT THE NEXT few hours dusting and sweeping the upstairs floors. As she finished, she heard a sizzle. Then came a warm, savory smell that made her mouth water.
    She followed her nose down the stairs to the first floor and entered the kitchen to find Mrs. Lee hurrying around, gathering ingredients for the evening meal. An oversized black steel pot shaped like a giant bowl sat on the stove top, flames licking the bottom. Another large pot filled with white rice simmered on the back